Alec didn’t have a poetic soul. A little Sir Walter Scott now and again was tolerable, but Blake was a madman and Byron a self-indulgent ass. Still, maybe he should have known it would all end in poetry. If he’d ever doubted the bard’s genius before, he didn’t anymore.

Love really did make fools of them all.

He would never have admitted it at the time, of course, but he hadn’t known Delia for even a single day before he’d been moved to compose flowery verses about her in his head. He’d begun thinking in poems almost instantly. A smile tugged at his lips. Bad poems. Her lips were pink rose petals. Her eyes sparkled like blue fire. The golden strands in her hair outshone the sun. Her bosom was—

Alec shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. Well, never mind her bosom just now. There would be time enough for her bosom later. All the time in the world.

He’d arrived at the Mayfair town house after midday and stayed just long enough to change his clothes before leaving again to conduct his business. It was a damp and blustery day and Alec usually found the ride from Bellwood to London tedious. He should have been in a foul temper by the time he arrived at the outskirts of town, but instead he was absurdly cheerful. The cold water dripping from his hat down his neck all day? Refreshing. The watery ale and bland stew served at the Leaping Hart Inn? Nectar and ambrosia. The mud flying from Ceres’s huge hooves and splattering his Hessians? Well, Ceres was a fine, strong beast, and surely that was a good thing? He’d ridden many miles before he realized he’d been smiling the entire way. Anyone who passed him on the road would have thought him a fool. At best. At worst, they’d have thought he’d lost his wits.

Maybe he had, but he didn’t give a damn.

Delia would have arrived in London by now. It was nearly five o’clock. The family had still been at Bellwood when he’d left this morning, but if they’d made even decent time … He was a besotted fool indeed, for it felt like years had passed since this morning, and the thought of seeing her now made his heart hammer with anticipation. He needed to make her his bride as soon as possible, because there was no way he’d be able to keep his hands off her over a long engagement.

Alec bounded up the steps to the town house. Rylands appeared at the door before he’d reached the top and Alec almost ran over him in his haste to get inside. “Rylands! Please send James out to see to Ceres.”

Rylands bowed and took the hat and gloves Alec thrust at him. “James is not yet returned from Surrey, sir, but Thomas can see to the horse.”

Alec was halfway across the entrance hall, but he froze at these words. An icy chill shot down his back. “What is James doing in Surrey?” he asked in deadly tones, turning slowly to face Rylands.

The butler blanched at the expression on his master’s face. “H-he’s driving Miss Somerset t-to Guildford,” Rylands stammered, taking a hasty step backward.

Alec’s heart, which had beat with such anticipation only moments ago, pulled in on itself as if wounded, like an open palm closing into a tight fist. It shriveled and contracted until a chasm so deep opened in his chest he feared it would devour him.

“Where is the countess?” His lips had gone so cold and stiff he was surprised the words emerged at all.

Rylands, usually so perfectly impassive, looked stricken. “The whole family and Miss Lily are i-in the drawing room.”

Alec turned on his heel without another word. Rylands hurried after him, Alec’s gloves and hat still clenched in his hands. When Alec entered the drawing room, his mother looked up with a smile, but it faded the instant she saw his face. “My God, Alec,” she cried, going pale. “What’s happened?”

“Delia has returned to Surrey. Why?”

Eleanor shot to her feet at the mention of Delia’s name. Her hand fluttered nervously at her throat. “Alec—”

But Alec’s eyes were fixed on Lily, who sat quietly in a chair in front of the fire, her hands clenched in her lap. “Why?”

Lily paused before answering. “She was needed at home,” she said after a moment, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

Alec ran a shaking hand down his face. “She’s needed here, damn you. I need her.”

Charlotte gasped at this, but Lily didn’t spare her a glance. “I don’t believe Delia thought so.” She looked directly at him this time. “She seemed to think any fleeting regard you had for her would not outlast the ton’s contempt.”

Alec stared at Lily until she dropped her gaze. He was silent for a moment, and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “Rylands, have Thomas saddle a horse for me. Not Ceres. A fresh one.”

“Alec!” Lady Carlisle cried. Her voice was shaking. “Where are you going?”

“Surrey.” He took his hat and gloves out of Rylands’s slack fingers and left the room.

“Oh, thank God,” Eleanor breathed, collapsing back into her chair. Charlotte sat gaping at the place where Alec had stood just seconds before, stunned. Lily turned back toward the fire, but this time a small, satisfied smile appeared on her lips.

“Alec! Wait a moment.” Robyn followed Alec out of the room. He hadn’t spoken a word during the entire exchange, but had kept his dark eyes fixed steadily on his brother. “Alec!”

Alec paused at the end of the hallway, his back to Robyn, waiting.

“It’s true, then? You’re in love with Delia?” Robyn asked.

Alec turned toward his brother, his face drawn. “Robyn. God knows I owe you an explanation. An apology, as well. I hope when I return, you’ll allow me to give you both. But please, not now. I need to go—”

“Eleanor told me everything,” Robyn said, cutting him off. “She said you were in love with Delia.” He shook his head. “I didn’t believe it at first. I’d begun to think you were a cold fish, brother. Ice in your veins. But your face, just now, when you walked into the drawing room? I’ve never seen you look so …” Robyn paused, then shook his head. “Well, I don’t need any further explanation. You can apologize when you return. Who knows? I may even accept it.”

A deep sigh tore free from Alec’s chest as if the great weight that suffocated him had lifted at last. For a moment the two brothers stood silently in the hallway, staring at each other with nearly identical dark eyes. “So it’s true, then?” Robyn asked again after a moment. “You’re in love with Delia?”

Alec looked his brother in the eyes. “Madly. Hopelessly.”

“Ah. Then there’s nothing else for it. Go and get her.”

What a fool she was, to be sure.

Delia was bundled into the Sutherlands’ coach, alone, on her way back to Surrey. Odd, how just two weeks ago all she’d wished for in the world was to return home. It was all she’d wanted.

Well, that was another lesson learned, she supposed. Be careful what you wish for, or you may just find out what it really means to want something. Or someone.

But she didn’t want to think about that. Couldn’t think about it. So instead she was thinking about young ladies. Young ladies and house parties.

Young ladies attended house parties all the time. These young ladies might dance, or play cards, or sketch or walk. Some of the more daring young ladies might even overindulge in punch and wake up in the morning with the headache, or flirt a touch more than was proper with an inappropriate gentleman. That was the worst of their sins.

But not her. Oh, no. That would be far too sensible. Nothing less would do for her than to go to Bellwood and seduce the lord of the manor. Then she had to fall madly in love with him, as well, and turn the entire house upside down in the process. It was lucky the house party had lasted only a fortnight. She shuddered to think of the damage she might have caused had it lasted a month. At least Bellwood was still standing.

She deserved her fate. To be in a coach on her way back to Surrey, minus one sister, minus her virtue, and missing such a large piece of her heart she was surprised it was able to beat at all.

What a fool she was, to be sure.

She gazed listlessly out the coach window, wondering without interest if she’d ever arrive home. They’d been waylaid in a tiny village outside of Horley when one of the coach horses had thrown a shoe. It had taken hours for James to find the blacksmith, and Delia had been obliged to wait for him at the inn. It wasn’t much of a village. The inn, the Rose and something, or the Crown and something, she couldn’t quite recall which, wasn’t much of an inn, either. The esteemed patrons, all male, had eyed Delia as if they were undecided whether to steal her valise or assault her person first.

She hadn’t been much interested in the outcome herself.

Alec would have arrived in London hours ago. He’d have discovered by now she wasn’t there.

You trust me, don’t you, Delia?

Her heart gave a miserable lurch. She hadn’t wanted to deceive him. It hurt her to do it. But it was easier this way, and less painful for both of them. She couldn’t have borne it if he’d made her empty promises out of some misplaced sense of duty, just because he thought he’d stolen her virtue. He’d never see the truth—that she’d simply given it to him. After a little time had passed, he’d realize it was better this way. Indeed, he’d likely feel a sense of relief. It wasn’t as if he loved her, after all.

It wasn’t as if he loved her.

Delia clenched her hands into fists. She hadn’t made a mistake, leaving him, and she would not cry. She would not sit here in this coach and weep all the way to Guildford, for she’d known she’d be riding back to Surrey alone. She’d known how it would end.

What she hadn’t known was how alone being alone would feel.

Yet how could she bring herself to regret making love to Alec? She closed her eyes and thought of his strong, sensuous hands stroking her, his face gilded by the firelight. His voice whispering in her ear. The nearly unbearable pleasure of him as he moved inside her. She could never regret it. It had been the most glorious night of her life.

“Blast it,” she whispered weakly when the first tear snaked its way down her cheek. She needed to be at home. Now. She needed to lay her head on Hannah’s shoulder and scold her younger sisters and sleep in her own room, even if it was lonely without Lily there. Was it asking too much of this blasted coach that it simply get her home?

That thought had no sooner crossed Delia’s mind when, incredibly, she felt the coach begin to slow down. Impossible. Surely she was imagining it? She peered out the window. Deep dusk had descended and she couldn’t see a thing, but the coach was indeed slowing down, and quickly. A second later Delia heard a distant shout and then James’s voice coming from the driver’s box, shouting something back. She couldn’t make out what he said, but he sounded stunned. A few moments later the coach came to an abrupt stop.

A highwayman. Of course. Delia tried to work up the requisite terror, but the best she could do was a tepid sort of annoyance. She hoped he’d be quick about it. Perhaps if she explained she really was in a tearing hurry to get home …

The door to the coach flew open.

Delia gasped. Alec stood there, covered from his boots to his cravat in mud, his hair matted with sweat and rain and his chest heaving with exertion. “Get out of the coach,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

His wild appearance was startling enough, but it wasn’t what made Delia gasp. It was his eyes. They glittered and flashed with rage. She’d never seen him so angry. “Alec! What—”

That was as far as she got. When she didn’t move at once, he reached in, grasped her around her waist, and jerked her from the coach. He set her on her feet, but his hands clutched her shoulders as if he were afraid she was about to disappear into the dusk. “Where the devil do you think you’re going?”

Delia gaped at him. Her mouth opened and her lips moved but it was some seconds before any words emerged. “Surrey?” she finally managed to squeak.

Alec’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Why?” He shook her a little.

Delia tried to twist out of his grasp, but he held her fast. “Um, because I live there?”

Alec’s mouth was a grim line. He released her shoulders only to grip her upper arm and march her toward his horse. “Not anymore, you don’t. Take the coach and horses back to Horley,” he said curtly to James, without releasing his hold on Delia’s arm. “Wait for us there.”

“Yes, my lord,” James said, his eyes wide. Within seconds he’d wheeled the coach around, back in the direction of Horley. The coach and horses were quickly swallowed by the night.

Delia began to think she’d prefer a highwayman, especially when Alec clearly intended to throw her over his horse’s saddle as if she were a sack of potatoes. She dug her heels into the ground and began to resist him in earnest. “Alec! What do you think you’re doing? Stop this!”

But he didn’t stop. He only hauled her closer and glared down at her, breathing in harsh, ragged pants. “What am I doing? I’m taking you back to London.” He lost his last shred of patience. “Where you should have been in the first place! Why weren’t you there, Delia? You lied to me,” he added in a low, furious tone.

“I didn’t. I didn’t lie, Alec.”

If anything, this seemed to make him even angrier. He dragged her roughly against him. “All right. Then you neglected to give me a crucial piece of information. Does that make you feel better? No?” he seethed when she looked away from him. “I thought it might not. For it amounts to the same thing as a lie, doesn’t it, Delia?”

“I should have told you,” she whispered. “I—I’m sorry, Alec.”

“Not as sorry as I was when I arrived at the town house to find you weren’t there.”

Delia heard the break in his voice and all at once the fight went out of her. She’d thought she’d never be in his arms again, and now that she was, all she wanted in the world was to melt against him. She hid her face against his chest, unable to speak.

“Can you imagine how I felt, Delia, when Lily told me you’d left for Surrey? She said you didn’t believe my regard for you would outlast the contempt of the ton.” Some of the anger had drained from his voice, but he grasped her chin in his hand and forced her to face him. “Look at me. You told me you trusted me. You lay naked in my arms just this morning, and you told me you trusted me.”

“I—” She was about to say she did trust him, but she looked into his eyes and the words died on her lips. She hadn’t trusted him. Not really. She’d told herself she’d risked everything for Alec, but in truth she’d behaved like the worst kind of coward. She’d fled Bellwood as if she were a condemned criminal facing the noose. She’d given him her virtue, but she’d withheld the truth. She’d given him her love, but she hadn’t trusted him with it. “I was afraid,” she said at last. “The ton, and Robyn …”

“I don’t give a damn about the ton, or anyone else. Can’t you see? None of that matters anymore. I thought you understood.”

Oh, God. She’d made an awful mistake. She had only to look at the anguish that dimmed his dark eyes to see it. She’d been terribly unfair to him, and she wasn’t sure she could repair the damage now. Had she hurt him too much? She searched his face, trying to read his expression to see if there was any hope at all.

He stared back at her for a moment without speaking, then, “Why did you make love to me, Delia?”

Was he giving her a second chance? Oh, she didn’t know! But maybe he was, and this time she was going to seize it with her bare hands and hold on to it with every part of herself. Just as her mother had done. She placed her hands on either side of his face, took a deep breath, and laid her heart at his feet. “Because I want to give everything I have to you. I love you, Alec.”

For a moment he didn’t move or speak or even seem to breathe; then his eyes dropped closed, the long dark lashes she loved so well sweeping across his cheekbones. Delia knew she’d never forget the look in his eyes when he opened them again, for they glowed so fiercely they sent a warm tingling heat rushing over her entire body.

He took a deep shuddering breath and clasped her hands in his own. His were shaking. “And why,” he asked urgently, pressing one of her hands hard against his chest, over his heart, “would I allow you to give everything to me? Why would I take such a gift from you?”

Delia felt the strong beat of his heart under her palm. She searched the dark pools of his eyes, and what she saw in them thrilled her.

“Because I love you, you maddening woman.” He brushed his lips tenderly against hers.

“Enough to chase me all the way to Surrey?” She gave him a tremulous smile.

“Much farther than that.” His dark eyes grew serious. “I would chase you to the ends of the earth, Delia.”

Then his mouth was on hers in earnest, desperate and demanding, and Delia held him as tightly as she’d ever held anything in her life, her mouth melting under his.

He finally released her lips to press his forehead against hers. “You’ll marry me, of course. You have to.” He laid a possessive hand on her belly. “I’ve compromised you, and since I plan to do it again and again, you’d better become the new Countess of Carlisle as soon as possible.”

Delia leaned back in the circle of his arms so she could see his face. “What a scandalous thing to say, my lord. Why, the ton would be shocked. They’ll gossip for months about us, you know. They’ll claim the Somerset women have put a curse on the Sutherland men. They’ll say I bewitched you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest.

Alec tightened his arms around her. “You have bewitched me. I’m utterly and completely in your thrall.” He pressed his face into her hair, closed his eyes, and drew in her honey scent. “It must be the eyes of blue fire.”