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they'd betrayed her once to the marquess. In fact, she was wearing exactly the same betraying baubles that she'd worn last time she'd welcomed him to Arradale.

He had a reputation for uncanny observation and omniscience, so he should remember every one. He would recognize the challenge. She was a lady, but she was also the Countess of Arradale.

And he was on her land.

Judging the moment, she walked toward the great doors. Her footmen swung them open, letting sunshine flood in, and she saw four grand traveling carriages coming to a halt in front of the double sweep of steps. Three others, doubtless containing baggage and servants, had turned off to go around to the back of the house.

Seven! And outriders, she saw. She traveled in state herself, but this was excessive, even for a whole family. They were also bringing children, which had required an overhaul of the long-unused nurseries. Only the Mallorens would do something so extravagantly absurd.

Just three days, she told herself as she walked unhurriedly through the open doors, concealing a rapid heartbeat. Gracious smile in place, she raised her wide skirts a little and walked down the steps to greet the people climbing out of the carriages. Silently, she rehearsed cool, courteous words of welcome, but then she saw a lady being handed down from the second coach and forgot decorum.

"Rosa!" she cried, and ran forward to meet her cousin and dearest friend in a crushing hug. They'd not met for nine months.

It was some moments before she realized she'd abandoned her hostess duties entirely. Blushing, she dragged her attention away from her happy and healthy friend to apologize. As she wiped some tears from her eyes, she found herself face to face with an amused Lord Brand Malloren.

With russet hair tied simply back, and his tanned face shaped by smiles, he was perfect for Rosa. He had even forgiven Diana for trying to shoot him.

While speaking to Lord Brand, however, Diana found herself hardly able to think or speak coherently. He was nearby. She couldn't see him, yet she knew. Ridiculous, but she felt him behind her as a sudden hot prickle down her spine.

Somehow she made a sensible end of one conversation and turned, hoping she was mistaken, that he was elsewhere and it had been only imagination, or the sun.

Chapter 4

The marquess stood there, however, only feet away and patiently awaiting. Had he always had that kind of effect on her, or was this some new torment?

"Lord Rothgar!" she declared, praying that her racing heart wasn't obvious, and desperately following her script. "How fortunate we are to have you here in Arradale once more."

He kissed her hand. It was the very lightest, proper brush in the air above her knuckles, and yet his fingers on hers were another shocking sensation.

Perdition. This was what came of thinking so much of a man for a year!

"The good fortune is all ours, Lady Arradale. Especially as you are willing to house a massing of Mallorens."

No sign that he was affected. She slipped her hand free. "For Rosa's wedding?" she said lightly. "For that, I would welcome a massing of monsters, my lord."

"Then you should manage to survive us. Permit me to introduce you."

With a light touch on her elbow he directed her to a family emerging from a coach beyond, but even that formal touch seemed to cause sparks. Seeking help, she cast a look toward Rosa, but her cousin was smiling up at Lord Brand, blind to the world.

"Indeed," the marquess murmured as if she'd spoken. "They behave like that all the time. How fortunate are we who have renounced such weakening folly."

If he'd planned to help steady her mind, he could not have found better words. She gathered every scrap of calm dignity as she approached the family.

It consisted of husband, wife, and four children ranging in age from toddler to about eight.

"Lord and Lady Steen," he said, "the lady being my sister Hilda. The infantry are endlessly confusing, so I will let them do the honors."

Despite this, the smallest child, topped with rod-straight brown hair, trotted over with a big smile and open arms, announcing something that sounded like, "Unkabay! Unkabay!"

The marquess astonished Diana by picking him up, though with an audible sigh. "This is Arthur Groves, Lady Arradale, a lad of no discrimination, as you can see. He'd make friendly overtures to a tiger." Certainly the boy, arm confidently around his uncle's neck, didn't seem to be wary of teeth.

Diana almost