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riding astride dressed like that. For your own sake, I’m asking you to reconsider. A lady wouldn’t act this way.”
    “You want me to act like a lady?” Alex tossed her curls, the sun picking out the copper highlights. “Then I suggest you start acting like a gentleman.” A slight tug on Blade’s reins, and they were off, racing back toward the manor.
    He let her go. She was right. What had possessed him to practically attack her? The women he knew in London considered him a devil because he wouldn’t allow himself to become enamored of them.
    He’d never met a “Lady” he liked, until now. Why couldn’t Alex act like the other women of his experience? He’d found the Ladies of the Ton tedious, at best. They were all the same, interested in fashion, gossip, and what male they could catch in the matrimonial noose. If it weren’t for his damn title, he’d happily settle for the occasional mistress, and avoid married bliss.
    In trying to teach his ward a lesson, he’d learned one. She was too much of a temptation to have around. Aside from Alex’s beauty, he admired her spirit and determination. If this kept up, he might actually come to like her. God forbid.
    A mental picture of his mother’s portrait came to mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to eradicate the memory. No matter how appealing he found Alex, he would not fall prey to his father’s sin.
    He shook his head, then turned Knight back toward the manor. The only solution was to marry Alex off quickly. She wasn’t going to like his decision. Thank heavens the little hoyden didn’t know she had weapons that would be much more effective than her dagger.

Chapter 3
     
    Alex leapt off Blade’s back before the horse had come to a halt, then flung the reins at John. The propensity of the groom’s straw-colored hair to stick straight up exaggerated the look of surprise on his face.
    “You’ll not be rubbin’ Blade down?” John’s mouth hung open. “But ya always...”
    “Not today,” Alex called over her shoulder as she headed toward the gardens. She lengthened her strides on the well-worn paths edged in boxwood. Spring flowers, not yet in bloom, created a haze of new green everywhere she looked, but she didn’t stop to admire the beauty her mother had designed.
    Her dismal thoughts were like the tangled climbing roses whose barren abundance overwhelmed the statue of Pan looming before her. Alex crossed to a stone bench at Pan’s feet, sat down, and hugged her arms to her chest.
    What the hell was she going to do? Her face grew warm remembering how her arms had brazenly encircled Declan. She had wanted his kiss, relished it.
    Bringing her hand to her lips, she felt the tenderness and swelling that were physical proof of her wantonness. Why had she responded to him like that? Lord Duprey’s kiss had been a mere parody of what she’d felt when Declan had kissed her. How did she expect to gain control of her life, if she couldn’t even control her emotions? She had to find a way to convince Declan to return to London and leave her in peace.
    As if her thoughts conjured him, Declan appeared, silent, like some dark spirit, intent on destroying her world.
    Every muscle in her body tensed. He hadn’t given her time to come up with a plan.
    He just stood there, looking at her. She kept her gaze riveted on him. Handsome, detached, untouchable: all those descriptions fit.
    “What do you want?”
    He raised one finely arched black brow and inclined his head. “We never finished our conversation.”
    “Maybe you didn’t.” She clasped her hands in her lap, trying to show composure she didn’t feel. “I have nothing further to say.”
    He crossed to the bench. “May I sit?”
    She didn’t want him that close, but he’d do what he wanted anyway. “As you wish.” She moved as far from him as possible. His smirk told her he’d noticed.
    He pinned her with his gaze. “About the kiss.”
    She looked down. “We don’t need to discuss