The large, handsome house was surrounded by a wall. Michael opened the gate for Catherine, then beckoned to his servants, who were ambling quietly behind them. His young batman, Bradley, had eyes as large as saucers as he stared at Catherine. Michael could hardly blame him when he himself felt the same way.
Calmly ignoring the boy's smitten expression, Catherine described the household, then waved the two men toward the stables behind the house. The vulnerability she had shown earlier was gone, leaving her a well-organized army wife again.
As she led Michael inside, three children and two dogs came sweeping down the stairs in a stampede of small but astonishingly noisy feet. A bright soprano said, "We've finished our lessons, Mama, so can we please play in the garden?"
While the children and a long, low-slung dog swirled around Catherine, the other dog, a splotchy beast of indeterminate ancestry, began barking at Michael. Laughter in her voice, Catherine said, "Silence, please, or we'll drive Major Kenyon to another billet. Clancy, stop barking." Michael's opinion of her went still higher when not only the children but the dog fell abruptly silent.
Catherine put an arm around the taller girl, who appeared to be about ten. "This is my daughter, Amy. Amy, Major Lord Michael Kenyon. He will be staying here."
He bowed gravely. "Miss Melbourne."
The girl gave a graceful curtsy. She had her mother's striking aqua eyes and dark hair. "A pleasure, Major Kenyon."
Catherine continued, "And this is Miss Molly Mowbry and Master James Mowbry."
Both children had red hair and lively expressions. Mary must be eight or nine, her brother a couple of years younger. Like Amy, they had impeccable manners.
After curtsying, Molly said, "You're a lord?"
"It's only a courtesy title," he replied. "My father is a duke, but I won't be a real lord, since I have an older brother."
"Oh." Molly digested that. "Captain Wilding is teaching us to draw. Do you know anything useful?"
Amy elbowed her and hissed, "Don't ask such questions."
Molly blinked her large hazel eyes. "Was that rude?"
Michael smiled. "Only because I'm afraid I don't have any interesting skills."
"No?" she said with disappointment.
He tried to think what might interest a child. Certainly not mining or investment strategy. "Well, I can tell when a storm is coming, but I don't think I can teach it to anyone else."
Her face brightened. "You could try."
Catherine intervened. "The major needs to get settled. You three go outside, and take Clancy and Louis the Lazy with you."
Michael watched in bemusement as the children and dogs obeyed. "Louis the Lazy?"
A voice from the stairs said, "He's the long, lethargic hound. Mostly he sleeps. It's his only talent."
He looked up to see a small-boned, pretty redhead descending the steps. With a smile, she said, "I'm Anne Mowbry."
After the introductions, they talked for a few minutes, until Anne said candidly, "Please excuse me. I'm in the family way again, and at the stage where all I want to do is sleep."
Michael was amused by her frankness. She was attractive, friendly, and charming. And, blessedly, she didn't scramble his wits the way Catherine did.
After Anne took her leave, Catherine began to ascend the stairs. "Your room is up here, Michael."
She led him to a sunny chamber that looked on to the side street. "Kenneth is across the hall. There's already fresh linen on the bed, since we knew it would be occupied soon."
She turned to face him. The movement brought her into the sunshine that poured through the window. Limned by light, she was like a goddess, too beautiful to be of the earth. Yet she also had a warm ability to create peace and happiness around her that reminded him of Clare.
Behind her was the bed. He had a brief, mad fantasy of stepping forward, taking her in his arms, and sweeping her down across the mattress. He would kiss those soft lips and explore the hidden riches of her body. In her arms, he would discover what he had been yearning for…
Her gaze met his and there was a strange moment of awareness between them. She knew that he admired her. Yet though she was surely used to male appreciation, she quickly looked down and concentrated on peeling off her gloves. "If you need anything, just ask Anne or me or Rosemarie, the head housemaid."
He forced himself to look at the gold band that glinted on her left hand. She was married. Untouchable. The wife of a brother officer… and he must get her out of his bedroom now. "I'm sure I'll be very comfortable. I won't be here for dinner tonight, but I look forward to meeting the rest of the household later."
Not looking at him, she said, "I'll send a maid with a house key later." Then she vanished into the hall.
He carefully closed the door behind her, then dropped into the armchair and rubbed his temples. After the disaster of Caroline, he had sworn that never, under any circumstances, would he touch another married woman. It was a vow he was determined to keep at any price. Yet Catherine Melbourne might have been designed by the devil to tempt him.
The sheer egotism of the remark brought a reluctant smile to his lips. If there was a lesson in his meeting Catherine, it was a reproach for his own smugness. He had been so sure that age and experience would protect him from the follies of infatuation. Not for him the idiocy of becoming entranced by a lovely face.
Obviously, he'd been a damned fool to think himself immune. Yet while it might not be possible to control his reaction to Catherine Melbourne, he could, and would, control his behavior. He would say no word, make no gesture, that could be interpreted as improper. He would behave toward her as he did toward Clare.
No, not like that-there could be no casually affectionate kisses or hugs between him and Catherine. This billet was unlikely to last more than a few weeks, and certainly he could control himself that long. After all, by tomorrow afternoon he would be too busy for infatuation.
Yet a sense of disquiet lingered. He rose and went to stare out the window. All soldiers had a streak of superstition, a belief in the unseen. Perhaps the lovely Catherine really was a test. He had thought he'd come to terms with the past, but maybe some divine judge had decreed that he must confront the same situation in which he had come to grief before, and this time master his dishonorable impulses.
On one thing he was grimly determined: he would not make the same mistake he had made before.
Chapter 4
Catherine walked slowly down the hall, not noticing her surroundings. After all her years among soldiers, she should be used to the fact that almost every man was handsome in a uniform. When Colin was in full dress regimentals, susceptible young girls had been known to swoon in admiration.
Even so, there was something particularly attractive about Major Kenyon. The dark green Rifleman's uniform was more austere than the garb of other regiments; however, it did wonderful things for his eyes, which were a rare, striking shade of true green. The uniform was equally complimentary to his broad shoulders, chestnut hair, and lean, powerful body…
But he was more than merely good-looking; like Wellington, he had the kind of compelling presence that enabled him to dominate a room without saying a word. She suspected that quality came from bone-deep confidence.
Though she had enjoyed talking to him, he was unsettlingly perceptive. She must take care that Major Kenyon did not get a chance to see below the polished surface she had worked so hard to perfect.
Odd that she was thinking of him so formally. Usually she preferred being on first-name terms with the officers around her. Her instincts must be saying that she should lot let him get too close. Luckily she was an expert at keeping men at a safe distance.