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caught the lamplight as he turned to speak to his coachman, and Kathryn’s heart tightened within her as she gazed at him, for the feelings that surged through her now were unlike anything she’d ever known before.
    He walked down the alley toward the courtyard, and the closer he came the more clearly she could see his eyes. She knew they were gray, and that there was something in them that hinted at dark secrets; something that was immeasurably exciting. He was the perfect hero, with looks to melt the hardest female heart, and a commanding air she found both arousing and intimidating. Each step he took brought desire and hazard nearer, and the blend was exhilarating. On the one hand she found him more sexually attractive than any man she’d ever seen before; on the other she could sense the alarm the real Rosalind would be feeling now on being so nearly caught with her lover. But the latter feeling was only fleeting, for Kathryn Vansomeren found him devastatingly desirable, a man in an entirely different league from the dull and rather ordinary Thomas Denham, and certainly a world away in every sense from someone like Richard, or even Harry Swenson, for whom she’d so briefly but tellingly thrown caution and common sense to the winds. Everything about Sir Dane Marchwood drew her like a pin to a magnet.
    He reached the courtyard and seemed to sense she was at the window, for he halted and toyed with the spill of lace at his cuff as he looked directly up at her. The hint of latent power surrounding him was like a beacon in the darkness, and when their eyes met, she couldn’t look away. He cast an electrifying spell over her, as if he knew her thoughts and all about the affair with Thomas Denham.
    But it was Alice who knew what she was thinking. “No, Kathryn, as yet he only suspects.”
    Startled, Kathryn looked swiftly around. “You know my name?”
    “Of course.”
    Kathryn’s eyes cleared. “Ah, but this is a dream, isn’t it? So you would know, wouldn’t you? I’m aware that this is all some old plot I’ve read or seen, and that it’s all mixed up with the real me!”
    “Some old plot? I don’t understand you.”
    Kathryn was suddenly less sure of things. Something about the intensity of the old woman’s eyes conjured thoughts of sorcery and ancient magic. No, that was stupid. This was still a dream, probably brought on by jet lag, stress, and British food! Why couldn’t her subconscious light on a story she remembered properly? If she’d turned into someone like Jane Eyre or Scarlett O’Hara, she’d know what happened next!
    Alice smiled. “Don’t look for answers now, my dear, for the rest of tonight could bring you more passion, excitement, and gratification than you’ve ever known before. Sir Dane Marchwood is the lover you’ve always longed for, and he’s within your reach because for this one night you are his wife.”
    “If I am, I’m supposed to want Thomas Denham instead,” Kathryn pointed out swiftly.
    “Then let me put it another way. For this one night, you are Kathryn Vansomeren in Lady Marchwood’s body. Dane suspects his wife of infidelity, but he doesn’t know for certain, and if you wish to enjoy his caresses, you must convince him of your faithfulness and love.”
    “Lie to him, you mean?” Kathryn replied flatly.
    “No, my dear, for although Rosalind has betrayed her vows to him, you haven’t.”
    Kathryn had to look away as Harry Swenson came to mind again.
    Alice smiled. “Oh, I’m not talking about the fleeting affair before you came here.”
    “You know about that, too?” Kathryn gasped.
    “Yes, and when I say that Rosalind has betrayed her vows to Dane but you haven’t, that is precisely what I mean. You, my dear, have never betrayed Sir Dane Marchwood, and that’s what matters.”
    “You’re talking in riddles.”
    “Am I? It’s very simple, Kathryn. Do you want to lie in Dane’s arms tonight?” Alice asked quietly.
    Kathryn glanced down into the