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flowing through her veins, the sweet ache that settled between her thighs.
    The wonder of Edmund's kiss made Kate lightheaded just to think of it!
    But this is where she felt torn.
    What gave Edmund the right to take such a liberty? Did he believe just because he was the Earl of Stamford that he could have his way with her? Did he think of Kate as simply some old possession of his that belonged, like the rose garden, with his country estate? 'Twas no way to treat an old friend. His high-handed arrogance appalled her!
    To make matters worse, she'd made a fool of herself by abandoning herself to the moment. Instead of fighting off Edmund's improper advance, she had surrendered to the utter delight in his kiss. He might now be under the impression he could take such liberties with her whenever he chose. If he ever chose again.
    Judging by his hasty flight back to Rose Hall, she thought it highly unlikely.
    Alas, Kate could not be dangling after Edmund. There could be no future for her with the Earl of Stamford.
    She strolled the narrow rear path through tall, deep green boxwood hedges to the clearing where the maze began. Even from the rear approach, Rose Hall loomed as grand as any country estate in England. Its beauty struck her anew each day. Walls of windows, projecting bays and classical ornamentation enhanced the towering brick building. Four solid floors surrounded a courtyard of eglantine roses. She failed to understand why Edmund spent so little time here when he had loved his country home as a boy.
    Kate entered by a side door and hurried through the cavernous main hall, larger by far than her papa's cozy thatch-roof cottage, to the low parlor chamber.
    "Kate." Lady Cordelia greeted her on a feeble note.
    "Good day, Lady Cordelia."
    With a rabbit fur draped across her lap, Edmund's aunt lay supine on a daybed of loose purple velvet cushions. A fire burned in the massive fireplace.
    "I burn with fever," she complained. "I think I have caught a chill."
    If anyone had caught a chill, it would be Kate, riding in the rain yesterday with Edmund.
    Kate placed the back of her hand over Lady Cordelia's brow. "Nay, you are not feverish. Mayhap the fire burns too bright?"
    "Aye?"
    "Aye."
    "How fares your dear papa today?" Cordelia asked, in a tone eager to compare ills,
    "I am happy to report he is at work in the north gardens."
    John Beadle's heart had broken when her mama, Nell, died. Kate had begun to wonder if it would ever mend. Sometimes, when she thought of how very dearly her papa had loved the woman he'd lived with for over twenty-five years, Kate wondered if any man would love her as much. The planets were yet to promise her a love match.
    " 'Tis heartening to hear someone is well, eh? The pain swells up in me and will not go away, no matter how much sack I swallow."
    "I shall play my lute for you." Kate never played for long. Lady Cordelia usually fell fast asleep during the first melody.
    Edmund's aunt had come from London to live at Rose Hall upon the death of Oliver Wydville, her brother and Edmund's father. Kate long suspected it might be country life that did not agree with the long-suffering woman.
    "Kate?"
    "Aye?"
    "Do you have a black eye?"
    "Aye."
    "How did you come by a black eye?"
    "I... I walked into a low-hanging bough."
    "Were you not looking?"
    "My mind was elsewhere."
    "Aye."
    Miracle of all miracles, the old woman let it go. Kate could only think Lady Cordelia was eager to nap.
    "Play something soothing, Kate."
    She was.
    With a sigh of relief, Kate took up the lute. At least she did not have to explain the lump on her head. Lady Cordelia's failing eyesight kept her ignorant of small things such as dust, mites, and lumps.
    Kate knew the music so well she did not even have to think about the notes or strings. Her fingers struck the notes as if they had a mind of their own. "Rose, rose, rose red, will I ever see you wed?"
    Lady Cordelia had just begun to snore when the door burst open.
    Startled, Kate