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parties, the wine and
women, the grandeur. The boxing.
    The day was still warm but a touch of fall was in the air—it
was her favorite season. And amongst the falling leaves and crisp air, she’d
had one perfect night with Sebastian.
    Even now the thought of his touch was enough to cause a
physical ache. A pain so all-encompassing and deep, she would willingly beg for
it and gladly die for it.
    She caught sight of the horse off to her right. Sebastian
was riding one of her stallions in a full gallop across the meadow toward her.
She tugged on the reins, drawing her horse and gig to a halt, and waited for
him.
    He had been very aware of her scars, always approaching from
her good side. How did he know to do that?
    Recklessly, he pulled the stallion, Alcindor, to a quick
halt—hooves churning up dirt and his head fighting against the bit. Alcindor
had always been a handful. Just like Sebastian.
    His darkness, his recklessness were on display in the way he
held the reins and held his seat. He was without a hat and his dark hair was
tousled. He was unshaven, a consequence of going without his valet.
    For Sebastian, roguish appeal went beyond his appearance.
When he looked at her, he made her feel…deliciously desirable.
    “You have a nice stable, Duchess.”
    “A gift from my departed husband. He always had a good stable
master here in Cornwall,” she said.
    “And you are still handy with the reins, I see.”
    “I had a skilled teacher.”
    He leaned against the pommel of the saddle, cocksure and
determined. “Did you tell the vicar no?”
    Again she chafed that no one could keep a secret. “I don’t
see it is any of your business.”
    “His sights were rather lofty, thinking he could capture a
duchess’s heart,” he said.
    “Albert is a kind man.”
    “Then he can still come to supper once a month after we
marry.”
    “I haven’t said yes.”
    “But you did tell him no.”
    She lifted the reins. Sebastian reached out. “Don’t go.”
    “You have been here two days and already you’ve disrupted my
carefully ordered life.”
    “I promise it will only be more exciting from now on. Walk
with me, Grace.” He dismounted and tied the stallion to the back of the gig.
    Again he approached from the right. She held out her hand
but he reached for her waist, lifting her and setting her to her feet, pulling
her close as he did so. She had to turn away. There was too much light and too
much closeness.
    “It’s time you showed me. You aren’t going to say yes until
you do and you can’t hide forever.”
    “Don’t be so cavalier. It didn’t happen to you.”
    “Yes, it did.”
    It couldn’t be in some dimly lit room. He had to see her in
full sunshine, where not only her scars would be seen but her reaction to his
perusal.
    Even as she steeled herself, a single tear dripped down her
cheek.
    She turned toward him, closing her eyes while she did so.
She turned her head, tilting her face so the sun displayed all of her ugliness.
    He growled and said, “If Hammond weren’t dead, I would kill
him with my bare hands.”

Chapter Three
     
    Sebastian cupped her cheeks and pressed his forehead to
hers. “I am sorry, Grace.”
    “I thought I was helping Hammond but he was drunk and angry.
I didn’t even have time to deflect the blow. He laughed afterward. He laughed.”
She gripped his wrist, her nails biting into his flesh.
    Hammond was a fool.
    “Let me look at you.” No matter how he had prepared himself,
the first sight shocked him. On a man, the marred skin would have been nothing,
but this was Grace. Delicate, beautiful and feminine. He schooled his features,
unwilling for her to see anything that might appear repulsed.
    “Not again,” she said.
    She turned from him but he kept a gentle grip. “You don’t
have to hide from me. Not now. Not ever.”
    He tilted her chin then traced a finger along the longest
scar running the length of her jaw. A second deeper scar ran parallel to it,
stopping about an