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picked up themselves.
    ***
    Cantering his rented mount up to the decrepit building
that fitted the description Miss Wellington had given, Alex had better ideas
than discussing invoices and smugglers. Inside the barn’s interior, he
discovered a fresh stack of hay piled in one corner. He had some very pleasant
memories of haystacks.
    Alex had felt the lady shiver when he had kissed her hand.
Perhaps he had taken her measure wrong. A woman who worked around men all day
might enjoy male company in other ways too. She was much more to his liking
than the mindless maid who had filled his bed these last two nights, even if the
lady had a tongue sharper than the Maclean's sword. If the truth be told, he
could learn to enjoy fencing with her if he thought he had any chance to unlace
her bodice.
    Sunlight filtered through holes in the roof and between
boards missing from the barn walls. Alex watched dust motes caught in a molten
stream of gold. The air was warm, but not unpleasantly so, and he was
half-tempted to discard his coat and hat and sprawl upon the hay for a quick
nap. It had been a long time since he had been in anything so primitive as a
barn, and he could not recall ever being in a barn so primitive as this. The
ones on his mother’s estate had been snug and airless.
    Remembering the maid he had met with frequency in the warm
security of his mother’s hayloft when he was little more than a lad, Alex
glared impatiently at the open door. One little half-witted maid had taught him
the pleasures of the body as well as the deceit of the female sex.
    Women were for enjoyment, nothing more. Miss Wellington put
on prim airs, but no proper lady would meet him in a place like this. It should
be amusing to see how she got around to what she really wanted.
    ***
    When Evelyn finally reached the barn, she was hot, tired,
and dusty. Mr. Hampton was sitting cool and relaxed in his shirtsleeves on a
comfortable bed of hay.
    He rose and offered a polite drawing-room bow. “You will
forgive my not offering you a ride. I assumed our intent was to meet in
private.”
    Irritated that she had not had the sense to ride, she
withdrew her hand. “Quite correct, Mr. Hampton. Let us be done with this quickly.
I have had time to consider several ideas as to how to trace the smugglers.”
    “As you said, let us be quick. I cannot tarry long despite
the pleasure of your company, Miss Wellington. Will you have a seat or must we
remain standing?” He indicated the old blanket he had thrown across the
haystack.
    Evelyn regarded the tattered wool with disfavor, but his
tone offered a challenge she could not ignore. Wrapping her skirts around her,
she took a corner of the disreputable blanket. When Hampton dropped his long
frame beside her, she nearly jumped and ran. His masculine proximity made her
shiver, and she tried not to notice how indecently large he appeared in
sleeveless vest and no coat.
    “I have not yet sent out notices that the shipment has
arrived,” she continued, trying to hide her nervousness, “but everyone is
likely to have heard that the Minerva is in port. I thought we might
have someone follow the wagons that pick up the goods.”
    Hampton crossed his hands behind his head and lay back
against the straw. Evelyn stared at the barn wall so she could not see the
rugged strength of his shoulders or watch the chiseled darkness of his face.
Then he crossed his booted feet, and she could not help but notice the bulge of
muscular thighs in tight breeches as they brushed against her skirts. This was
inexcusable. Stomach in knots, she waited for his reply.
    “Excellent idea, Miss Wellington,” Alex responded
sarcastically. “The man following could pretend he was a dog and trot alongside
the wagon for the fifty or one hundred miles it might take to its destination.
No one would ever suspect a thing.”
    Heat and nervousness ignited her simmering anger. Without
any thought at all, Evelyn turned and pounded Hampton in his damned