What Gemma Oakes required in her life was someone strong, someone quick of mind and thoroughgoing. It occurred to him that she would not, in fact, prefer the old Zander to the new one. He had been light-minded, despite his intensive if outlandish education. Not weak, but yes, lazy and careless. He'd laughed at his sisters when he'd frustrated them to fury, he gambled when he knew perfectly well that old Philpot was struggling to stretch the meals to feed nine bellies. He'd not been cruel, nor corrupt. Simply, tragically convinced of his own immortality, never understanding that there were many kinds of death.

Foolish youth.

He was much wiser now. Wise enough to see into the widow's clear gray eyes and glimpse a future worth fighting for.

That was the man he would be for Gemma Oakes.

All that depth of understanding occurred in a matter of seconds as Lysander slid his hand down Gemma's back to rest there, palm inward. He could feel every ripple of movement through the diaphanous gown as they swayed into the steps of the dance.

GEMMA HAD BEEN WRONG. When she'd stepped through the rose arch, she'd thought it the most romantic moment of her life. What a drab existence she'd had to think so highly of strolling under a charming arch with a handsome man. It did not compare with dancing high on a grassy hillside under a full moon, with the strains of a distant fiddle guiding their steps.

This is definitely the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me.

Abruptly, Gemma decided to stop thinking so much. In fact, she vowed to stop thinking at all. If this waltz was such a rare and random occurrence, perhaps now was the time to shut it and dance.

This man, this unusual man, gave her leave to be bold. But no one wanted to be bold all the time. She closed her eyes and sank into his large, muscled body as if she were falling and he was her only hope of survival.

Catch me, she thought, and danced.

The cool air on her skin competed with the heat of him against her. Gemma remembered the kiss on top of the fell. Had it truly been so remarkable? Or was it gilded by a lovely day and her feeling of skipping out on her responsibilities? Shouldn't she explore that more thoroughly?

Oh yes. I think I will.

She went up on tiptoe, drove her fingers into his silky dark hair and pulled his mouth down to hers. The spark of surprise at her own impulsiveness disappeared in the detonation that occurred when Lysander pulled her hard into his arms and kissed her back.

Oh my heavens.

THE BREEZE PICKED UP slightly and the tall grass on the hillside turned to rippling pewter waves in the moonlight. Lysander breathed deep of the clear air and sweet grass — with just a hint of roses — and her.