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here, Michael."
    She led him to a sunny chamber that looked on to the side street. "Kenneth is across the hall. There's already fresh linen on the bed, since we knew it would be occupied soon."
    She turned to face him. The movement brought her into the sunshine that poured through the window. Limned by light, she was like a goddess, too beautiful to be of the earth. Yet she also had a warm ability to create peace and happiness around her that reminded him of Clare.
    Behind her was the bed. He had a brief, mad fantasy of stepping forward, taking her in his arms, and sweeping her down across the mattress. He would kiss those soft lips and explore the hidden riches of her body. In her arms, he would discover what he had been yearning for…
    Her gaze met his and there was a strange moment of awareness between them. She knew that he admired her. Yet though she was surely used to male appreciation, she quickly looked down and concentrated on peeling off her gloves. "If you need anything, just ask Anne or me or Rosemarie, the head housemaid."
    He forced himself to look at the gold band that glinted on her left hand. She was married. Untouchable. The wife of a brother officer… and he must get her out of his bedroom
now
. "I'm sure I'll be very comfortable. I won't be here for dinner tonight, but I look forward to meeting the rest of the household later."
    Not looking at him, she said, "I'll send a maid with a house key later." Then she vanished into the hall.
    He carefully closed the door behind her, then dropped into the armchair and rubbed his temples. After the disaster of Caroline, he had sworn that never, under any circumstances, would he touch another married woman. It was a vow he was determined to keep at any price. Yet Catherine Melbourne might have been designed by the devil to tempt him.
    The sheer egotism of the remark brought a reluctant smile to his lips. If there was a lesson in his meeting Catherine, it was a reproach for his own smugness. He had been so sure that age and experience would protect him from the follies of infatuation. Not for him the idiocy of becoming entranced by a lovely face.
    Obviously, he'd been a damned fool to think himself immune. Yet while it might not be possible to control his reaction to Catherine Melbourne, he could, and would, control his behavior. He would say no word, make no gesture, that could be interpreted as improper. He would behave toward her as he did toward Clare.
    No, not like that—there could be no casually affectionate kisses or hugs between him and Catherine. This billet was unlikely to last more than a few weeks, and certainly he could control himself that long. After all, by tomorrow afternoon he would be too busy for infatuation.
    Yet a sense of disquiet lingered. He rose and went to stare out the window. All soldiers had a streak of superstition, a belief in the unseen. Perhaps the lovely Catherine really was a test. He had thought he'd come to terms with the past, but maybe some divine judge had decreed that he must confront the same situation in which he had come to grief before, and this time master his dishonorable impulses.
    On one thing he was grimly determined: he would not make the same mistake he had made before.
     

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Chapter 4

     
    Catherine walked slowly down the hall, not noticing her surroundings. After all her years among soldiers, she should be used to the fact that almost every man was handsome in a uniform. When Colin was in full dress regimentals, susceptible young girls had been known to swoon in admiration.
    Even so, there was something particularly attractive about Major Kenyon. The dark green Rifleman's uniform was more austere than the garb of other regiments; however, it did wonderful things for his eyes, which were a rare, striking shade of true green. The uniform was equally complimentary to his broad shoulders, chestnut hair, and lean, powerful body…
    But he was more than merely good-looking; like Wellington, he had the kind of