Prologue
Lady Georgiana Flora Aileen Harrington—“Gigi” to friends—skipped through the autumn-kissed woods. Beneath her feet, the mossy floor was plusher than an Aubusson, and sunlight dappled through the leaves like a natural chandelier. She breathed in the scents of the forest, feeling more at home here than in the ballrooms of London. From the moment she’d arrived at Chudleigh Bottoms, she had experienced a sense of belonging. Her brother Ethan had taken up residence in one of the local manors, and while many viewed “Chuddums” as being downtrodden—local lore even claimed it was cursed—Gigi had instantly fallen in love with the village and its people.
She’d become great friends with Miss Leticia Caldecott, a lovely spinster who owned Chudleigh Bottoms’s World Famous Roman Bath. Contrary to its name, the spa had been fading into obscurity, and Gigi had suggested refurbishing the place. Miss Letty had embraced the idea, and today the pair had cleaned out a room that generations of Caldecotts had used for storage space. Afterward, seeing that her maid had fallen asleep on one of the spa’s benches, Gigi had decided to slip away to the nearby stream. She inhaled the forest scents as she passed by curious squirrels and scurrying partridges. In the distance, a woodpecker tapped out an enigmatic message. For a little while, freedom was hers.
Arriving at her destination, Gigi took in the scene with delight. The stream was clear, diamonds sparkling on its surface. Along its banks, wildflowers had lost their bloom, but the grass remained stubbornly verdant. An ancient yew tree, its gnarled trunk swirling with the secrets of time, stood like a sentinel. Boulders dotted the water’s edge, some of them large enough to lay upon while one basked in the sun.
The beauty and warmth of the day was too splendid to ignore. Gigi adored swimming, and moreover—she gave herself a discreet sniff—a wash was not entirely optional. Glimpsing her reflection in the water, she smiled. Letty had loaned her a stained and threadbare frock to wear while cleaning, and with her raven hair plaited and covered by an old kerchief, Gigi looked more like a country maid than the daughter of a marquess. It reminded her of the carefree summers spent at the family estate, where she’d grown up swimming and climbing trees with her three older brothers.
She followed the brook to a secluded pool surrounded by large rocks. There, the water had a sudden drop, resulting in a small but delightful waterfall…perfect for rinsing off. She was untying her kerchief when a splash startled her. Her gaze flew to the liquid curtain of water, behind which a dark shape suddenly lurked. It was massive…monster-like.
Instinctively, she took refuge behind the nearest boulder. Her heart pounding, she counted to ten before daring to peer around it. The shape had disappeared. Had she imagined it? The form suddenly broke the surface of the pool, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp. Then she realized how fanciful she’d been.
Why, it is not a monster. It—he—is just a man.
Although only the fellow’s head was above the water, the refined savagery of his features caused her heart to thump against her ribs. His broad, slashing cheekbones and light, piercing eyes belonged on a Viking crusader. His nose was bold and arrogant, his jaw hewn with an unyielding edge. With a rough gesture, he swiped back the dark-blond hair plastered to his brow before diving under again.
Her pulse racing, she watched his shadow glide below the water. Suddenly, he surged upward, standing below the waterfall and giving her a view of his profile. Her heart broke into a gallop as, through the rushing curtain of water, she glimpsed a naked male for the first time.
Oh my stars.
He was exceedingly tall, and his taut, grooved derriere—just thinking the word made her blush—was visible above the pool’s surface. Even though she knew she should look away, she didn’t. She couldn’t. His blatant virility was like a magnet to her curiosity. He was lean and muscular, with the kind of honed strength that did not require bulk. As he rinsed himself, cascading water sluiced off his broad shoulders, giving her peekaboo views of his contoured back.
He turned, facing her, and her lungs emptied in a dizzying whoosh.
Oh my stars and garters.
Her eyes widened at the sight of his manhood…because, of course, that was where her gaze went. Ogling a naked stranger was beyond improper, yet curiosity and fascination kept her gaze riveted. She’d seen the male anatomy depicted in classical paintings and sculpture and always thought this part of a man looked, well, a bit silly. Like a worm curled upon a wrinkly plum. Yet there was nothing silly at all about this fellow, and his thingamajig wasn’t a worm but more of a…a snake. Thick and long, it swayed sinuously between his muscular thighs.
In truth, this part of him matched his outsized masculinity. Chiseled blocks covered his chest and narrowed into tight bands upon his torso. His hips were topped with a vee of sinew. Whorls of hair adorned his chest, narrowing into a trail down his abdomen that pointed straight at his… At that instant, he wrapped his hand around his thingamabob. It leapt within his fist, rearing up, its crimson head burgeoning beyond the reach of his grip. When he gave it a rough jerk, she squeaked in surprise.
He whipped his head in her direction. “Who’s there?”
Like the crack of a rifle, his voice chased birds into the skies. Gigi ducked behind the rock. She held completely still; it helped that panic paralyzed her. Her thoughts, however, kicked up turf like the horses at the Royal Ascot.
Did he see me? Should I run? Hide?
Being a lady of action, she made a run for it. Staying low and hopefully hidden by the boulders, she moved as quickly as she could. The mud along the bank sucked at her shoes, making squelching noises that she prayed wouldn’t give her away. Nearly at the yew tree, she risked a glance behind her. No sign of the man in the pool. Had he gone beneath the water again?
I’ll take refuge behind the tree and decide my next steps.
Just as she reached the tree, the Viking materialized in front of her. She skidded to a halt, barely avoiding a collision with his dripping form. How on earth had such a large fellow moved with such stealth?
Not that it mattered: she was well and truly caught.
The realization quivered through her, and she trembled, pressing back against the yew’s bark. The stranger faced her, his large bare feet planted in an aggressive stance, his hands braced on his hips. He’d tied a towel around his waist, but it hung rather low and drew attention to the girdle of muscle over his hips. He seemed unconcerned that he was mostly naked and wet, and she wished she could be as indifferent. Up close, she saw his eyes were a riveting sea green. His resemblance to a legendary Norseman was even more evident: he was all twisting sinew and rough edges, battle scars marking his chest and knuckles.
“I thought I heard something,” he said.
His voice was husky and deep, less booming than it had been moments before. This relieved her. She had a talent for reading people, and he didn’t seem angry, which he would have every right to be, considering that she had been spying on him like some Peeping Tom…or Thomasina, rather. Since she didn’t recognize him from the village, she guessed he was passing by: a sailor, most likely, whose ship was temporarily anchored at the Chuddums docks. Yet his polished accent didn’t sound quite like that of a typical seaman…perhaps he was a captain? That would explain his aura of command. Her papa had been a lieutenant-colonel during the war against Boney, and he evinced that same innate authority.
Speaking of Papa, he and Mama are going to murder me if they find out about this.
“What is your name?” the stranger asked.
Apprehension seized Gigi. Everything about the situation spelled “RUINATION” in capital letters. She had to get away as quickly as possible, without this fellow discovering that the only daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Blackwood had shamelessly spied upon him while he bathed.
Think of a plan, Gigi. You’re good at plans.
