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her back to stiffen. But, oh, her treacherous arms wound around his neck, and when he took a step forward, she bent backward like a sapling in a gale.
    He was kissing her and she was letting him. Worse, she was participating. Her heart was furiously beating, her breath coming so fast she wondered if she’d tightened her corset too much this morning.
    She was burning up. It was not yet noon yet she was desperately overheated. The sun wasn’t doing that to her. This annoying, arrogant man was kissing her into a fever.
    Desire spread through her body. Joy, anticipation, the sheer delight of being alive made her tremble.
    What was she doing?
    She was allowing a perfect stranger to kiss her. Worse, if he pushed the issue, she might well succumb on the floor of the gazebo.
    With the last of her reason she pulled back. She placed one hand against his chest, feeling his heart beating as fast as hers. Head bowed, she prayed for some type of restraint as well as the ability to speak.
    â€œVirginia would be miserable worrying about Macrath.”
    â€œLove does that,” he said. “They love each other very much.”
    She nodded. Should he be talking about love to her? Especially when they stood so close and she still tasted him on her lips.
    She pressed her hand against his chest, feeling like he was a wall of brick or stone, something impenetrable and immobile. He must release her. He must step back and remove temptation from her.
    As if he heard her words, he took two steps back, dropping his arms. He didn’t, however, apologize. Nor would she be such a hypocrite to demand it. She hadn’t been a victim but a willing participant.
    She took a step to the left, then another, making here way to the entrance of the gazebo. Only then did she turn and look at him directly.
    â€œYou will be careful, won’t you?”
    â€œI’m normally careful,” he said. “Normally.”
    She was being silly, imagining words that hadn’t been said. But as she left the gazebo, careful not to look back, she could have sworn he said, “Except when it comes to you.”

 
    C H APTER S EVEN
    S he placed herself in exile for the next two days, taking her meals on a tray in the lovely sitting room that was part of her suite.
    When Virginia came to see her after breakfast the first morning, she had no other choice but to assure her sister-­in-­law she was fine, just a little tired from the journey.
    â€œIt’s nothing else, Ceana? Is it the children? Have they been a bother?”
    â€œThey could never be a bother. They’re all wonderful and you know it.”
    â€œMacrath? Has he said something to upset you?”
    She smiled. “No. He’s been Macrath and that’s never upsetting.” She smiled at her sister-­in-­law. “Truly, it’s nothing. I thought being lazy for a day or two might be for the best.”
    Virginia was finally assured of her health and her mood. She didn’t need to know about her confusion or the fact she was perilously close to tears most of the time.
    She missed her girls and she missed Peter, but above all she missed herself.
    Her brothers-­in-­law would have her remain in black, becoming the matriarch of the family. She would be spoken about in whispers. Dear Aunt Ceana, widowed all these years. She never quite survived the death of her beloved husband. Shush, don’t speak so loud. You are in the company of our straight-­laced Aunt Ceana. She is the bulwark of the family, the morality expert. She dictates and passes judgments on others.
    Oh, but she didn’t want to be like Brianag.
    She wanted to live. Dear God, she wanted to feel delight and joy and happiness once again. She wanted to rear her daughters to be strong women. She wanted to show them life was a series of events, some good, some bad, but they could weather them all.
    How did she do that if she retreated into darkness? If she became the black cloud over