Chapter 8

England

Hastings Park

A Few Weeks Later

Io had known that her brother had inherited a castle. But there was knowing something, and then there was seeing.

Hastings Park, the ducal seat, was enormous. In fact, it was a small city. The entire community of Canoga could fit into one wing of it with room to spare.

And yet it still was not large enough to keep Io away from her brother's fiancée.

"The clothing you are wearing," Edith said, sweeping Io with a scathing look, "is barely adequate for the country. You need to learn to dress appropriately."

The three of them—Edith, Io, and Eva—were sitting in one of the dozens of common rooms in the castle. The first week had passed in a blur as Io found her bearings in this strange, extravagant new world in which she and her siblings were aristocrats and everyone around them bowed and scraped.

Io now had a personal servant—a young woman named Moira. When she had resisted engaging one, Edith had threatened to find one for her. When Io had continued to refuse, she'd been summoned to the duke's study. Again.

"You must have a maid," Zeus had said, his tone weary but firm. "You will not be able to launder and mend and do the hundred other small tasks that will be necessary."

"I did them all at Canoga."

"But you are no longer at Canoga," he had explained with exaggerated patience. "And if you will recall, you were the one who agreed to come to England." His eyelids lowered over his gemlike eyes. "When in Rome, Io…"

Io had smiled tightly, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from lashing out. He was right; she had agreed.

And so she now had a maid.

On the subject of her clothing, however, she would stand firm.

"I will purchase more when we move to London for the Season," she said to Edith. "And everything I buy will conform to my own principles. My clothing is not negotiable. And I'm sure you recall Zeus agreeing with me on this matter."

Edith opened her mouth.

"I read that the Countess of Fenhurst is an adherent of Dress Reform," Eva piped up.

Io bit back a smirk. Her sister had become an expert at defanging Edith by bringing up the name of some lord or lady to back up her arguments.

Edith did not answer, but she did move on to another subject. "We have been in residence for ten days and many people have left their cards. Eva and I will return calls beginning tomorrow. You will accompany us and we will—"

"I will not accompany you on morning calls."

"I am sure His Grace will have something to say about that."

"Probably," Io agreed. "But I already have plans for my day."

"And those are?"

"I am meeting the village schoolteacher, Miss Amelia Temple, and we are discussing how I might volunteer my time."

"Teaching?" Edith all but shrieked.

One would have thought that Io had suggested whoring her way through the male servants the way the other woman repeated the word.

"Yes."

"That is most inappropriate. His Grace will—"

Io smiled. "Let us go and see my brother now, shall we? But first, let me ring for Mrs. Dryden."

***

"Yes, it is true the former duchess volunteered at the village school," Mrs. Dryden said, visibly bewildered to be summoned to the duke's study to confirm such a simple fact.

Io smirked at Edith, who fumed and glared at the ethereally lovely housekeeper.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dryden. That will be all for now," Zeus said, gently dismissing the poor woman, who looked like she wanted to sink through the floorboards.

Io felt a pang of guilt at putting her in the middle—it was already clear that Edith didn't care for the beautiful servant—but the fact was that Mrs. Dryden had a cool dignity that lent credibility and Io needed that credibility to put a stop to Edith's attempted control of her entire life.

Teaching was a noble profession, and Zeus obviously felt the same.

"Io will cause no harm teaching a few days a week. Indeed, she will likely do a great deal of good," Zeus said to his fiancée, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else than in the middle of yet another argument.

Io felt the exact same way.

Edith stared at Zeus for a long moment, as if she could, by sheer force of will, make him change his mind.

But Io's reserved brother could sometimes be as immovable as a block of granite.

"I will leave you," Io said, eager to get away from the odd atmosphere between the two.

The meeting had convinced Io of what she had suspected since New York: she could not live in a house with Edith. She would go mad. She could not pull up stakes and move into other lodgings here in the country, but when they all went to London at the end of the year, Io was going to have her own place to live.

On that matter she was unshakable.

***

Over the next few weeks, Io combed the newspapers Zeus had delivered to the castle every morning. She took them to her chambers after everyone else had already read them. That way, she could make notes directly on them, circling lodging possibilities.

The allowance Zeus gave each of them was exceedingly generous and more than enough to hire five large houses with a dozen servants each. But that was the last thing Io wanted.

She would have liked to live on her own, but that would never be allowed. Besides, with the current demands on her time, she would need somebody to cook and clean. And, of course, she could not live on her own without a male to protect her. She grudgingly conceded that fact. At least until she became accustomed to her new environment.

She did not want to live in a castle large enough to house a village. Larger, actually.

And she did not want to live anywhere near Edith.

Volunteering at the village school had been the first thing to happen that gave Io hope for her new life since leaving Canoga.

Amelia Temple, the teacher at the tiny schoolhouse, had been delighted to have her help.

"We have twenty-two students between the ages of seven and sixteen, my lady. I've been teaching them in two groups, but it has been difficult to give the older students the grounding they require in mathematics and English."

Miss Temple was obviously uneasy to be talking to a lady. Io had wanted to ask her to call her by her Christian name, but she knew such a gesture would only make Miss Temple more nervous.

Instead, she had said, "Would you like me to take the older children three days a week?"

Miss Temple's eyes had widened. "I thought you could only come two days?"

I could come five days, she'd wanted to say, but she suspected that Zeus would not support that much work, which would come dangerously close to sounding like a job, something the sister of a duke was not allowed to have.

"Yes, I can do three," she'd said, smiling at the other woman.

And so Io was now teaching the nine older children—from twelve to sixteen—three days a week.

And she loved it.

But even with teaching, she still had too much time on her hands.

Io was just coming home from her sixth day of teaching, and considering asking Balthazar if there was some way she could help with the harvest—she knew that Bal, Ares, and Pol had been volunteering at the various tenant farms—when she encountered Mr. Masterson.

Io had avoided even looking at him since their last encounter onboard the ship, but as he was going up the stairs, and so was she, she could scarcely ignore him now.

Especially not after he said, "Good afternoon, my lady."

Io grunted, decided that was too rude, and said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Masterson."

"How is your teaching progressing?" he asked blandly, his slate gray eyes as opaque and unreadable as ever. He looked healthy and virile, his illness on board the ship clearly something he had put behind him.

Io examined his face for signs of disapproval—he was, after all, Edith's creature—but saw nothing to confirm her suspicion. "It is going well, thank you."

When they reached the second-floor landing, he turned right, which was the same direction she was going.

Io bit back a sigh of irritation.

"His Grace mentioned that you took Tuesday's London Times," Masterson said. "I wondered if you still had it?"

"I do. Why?"

"There was an article in it that I wanted to show him. Might I borrow it? I will return it after he has read it."

Io wanted to say no, just because she didn't want to prolong their exchange, but even she knew that would be unacceptably churlish.

"Of course," she said. "Shall I bring it down to—"

"I have time to come and fetch it right now. If you are returning to your chambers, that is?"

Io sighed. "Of course."

They walked the rest of the way in uncomfortable silence, at least on Io's side. She could not stop remembering that she had all but thrown herself into this man's arms the last time they'd spoken.

And he had rejected her.

Masterson reached for the door handle to her chambers and opened it. Io considered pointing out that she was capable of opening doors herself, but the sooner he got what he came for, the sooner he would leave.

She went to her desk and rooted through the various copies, which were not in order, looking for the one he wanted.

"Are you saving all those newspapers for a purpose?"

Masterson's voice came from right behind her and Io jumped.

She ignored his question and finished sifting through the pile. "Here it is." She turned and handed him the folded newspaper. "Please do bring it back when you are finished with it." Not that she really needed it. The same listings tended to appear every day.

His gray gaze went from the newspaper in his hand to the ones on her desk. Io could see he wanted to repeat his question.

"If you will excuse me, Mr. Masterson—"

He tucked the paper under his arm. "Of course. I am sorry to keep you from…whatever."

Io ignored his sly dig and waited until he'd left before letting out the breath she'd been holding. Honestly. She could never decide whether she wanted to hit the man or kiss him.

Neither action was appropriate.

The less time she spent around Corbin Masterson, the better.

***

"Where did you find the newspaper?" His Grace asked Corbin. "Somebody appears to be searching for a house to lease."

Corbin stared at his employer and scrambled to come up with an answer that would not implicate Lady Io, who already hated him.

"I believe it went through several hands before Lady Io ended up with it." That was not a lie.

Hastings's brow furrowed as he examined the notations.

Corbin recognized her handwriting because he had stolen that note she had written to him. To his shame and discomfort, he had stared at the brief missive more than a few times. It was the least ladylike handwriting he had ever seen and something about that fascinated him.

Liar. She fascinates you.

Based on the stack of newspapers he had seen on her desk, Corbin knew exactly who had circled all those listings and why. Lady Io Hale was planning to jump ship when the family moved to London.

That could not be allowed to happen. Corbin could just imagine the chaos an utterly unrestrained Io Hale could generate.

Still, Corbin was not eager to tattle on her, as she liked to accuse him of doing.

After a moment the duke appeared to put aside the matter of the notations and turned his attention to the bank merger story in the foreign section.

While His Grace read the article, Corbin thought about Lady Io. Did she really believe her brother would allow her to take separate lodgings in London? And why would she want to? What sort of activities was she planning that required her own establishment?

Corbin's mouth tightened. Nothing good, he would wager. Based on her antics in New York, the woman had no qualms about exposing herself to all sorts of danger.

Based on her antics with you aboard the Petrel you should know exactly what she has planned.

He grimaced. He did not want to think about Lady Io seeking sensual satisfaction in some man's arms.

Not unless the arms are yours.

Corbin brushed aside the voice and considered Lady Io's plans to rent her own lodgings. He would need to tell the duke—eventually—but first, he would try speaking to the woman herself and reasoning with her.

Because that is something you've been so successful at in the past.

Corbin would talk to her tonight after dinner.

Dinner.

He scowled at the thought of the evening meal, which had become grimmer by the day as Miss Barrymore and the duke's siblings' clashes grew both in regularity and acrimony.

It wasn't only Lady Io who argued with Miss Barrymore. Some of the worst disputes occurred between the duke's fiancée and the younger twins. Or at least they were disputes on Miss Barrymore's side.

Lords Ares and Apollo were less likely to openly rebel against Miss Barrymore's strictures, but also less inclined to go along with them—even less than Lady Io—instead passively resisting her commands.

It was a state of affairs that did not make for a happy household or a comfortable meal.

That night at dinner the twins were once again absent.

And Corbin was not the only one to notice.

"Does anyone know if Ares or Apollo plan to come to dinner tonight? This is the third time this week they have failed to appear," the duke said in a tight voice, his gaze drifting over his younger siblings.

"Oh, dear! I am so terribly sorry, Zeus," Lady Eva said. "I'm afraid I got so caught up in my work that I forgot to pass along the message Ares asked me to give you. The twins went to a horse auction."

"Where?" the duke asked.

Lady Eva's forehead furrowed. "Goodness! They told me the name of the town earlier today, but it has slipped my mind."

Zeus eyed her with mild skepticism but seemed willing to accept her excuse.

Miss Barrymore, unfortunately, decided to challenge the issue. "You may think you are helping your brothers by offering excuses for them, Eva, but you are merely encouraging their mischief, my dear."

Lady Eva's lovely face seemed to harden, even though her smile remained. "Dear Edith, I hope you do not think the twins are doing snooks."

Miss Barrymore's eyebrows descended. Before she could speak, the duke intervened.

"Doing snooks? Is that an ancient phrase from your lexicon, Eva?" Hastings asked, an amused glint in his normally frosty eyes. Corbin had noticed that Eva was always able to melt the ice around her oldest brother's heart. He was delighted the duke was friends with at least one of his siblings. And Corbin had to admit that Lady Eva really was a darling.

"It is actually a brand-new term. Jeremy, one of the new grooms, is from Manchester and he shared it with me. It means to do this"—Lady Eva put her thumb against the tip of her pert little nose and then wiggled her fingers.

A grin flashed across the duke's face—the first Corbin had seen in ages. "I daresay that will come in very…handy."

Lady Eva's eyes widened and she gave a gurgle of laughter. "Very good, Zeus. I adore puns."

The duke's other siblings chuckled.

Corbin breathed a quiet sigh of relief that the youngest Hale had deescalated what could have become an ugly scene.

But then Miss Barrymore cleared her throat and Corbin wanted to lower his head in his hands and groan.

"This sort of behavior is bad enough in the country with only the family at dinner. But when we go to London and move in elevated society—"

"What sort of behavior?" Lady Io interjected. "My brothers have gone to a horse auction. It is my understanding that horse auctions are something aristocratic men spend a disproportionate amount of their time attending. It seems to me that Ares and Pol should fit right in when we move in elevated society."

"What you think hardly matters," Miss Barrymore retorted.

Lady Io's eyes widened, and she laughed. "I see. But what you thinkdoes?"

Miss Barrymore opened her mouth.

"Please leave us," the duke said, his frigid gaze on the line of footmen listening with ears that were practically on stalks.

Once the door shut behind the last servant, Hastings looked around the table, his gaze lingering longest on his sister and betrothed. "I would prefer not to air our family differences in front of the servants."

Miss Barrymore's pale cheeks turned a dull red at what was obviously chiding, no matter how gently spoken.

Hastings fixed his fiancée with a stern look. "If my sister says the twins are at a horse auction, that is an end to the subject."

Miss Barrymore wisely nodded and said, "Yes, Your Grace."

Lady Io was smirking when her brother turned to her. "I would like to see you in my study after dinner."

His sister's face fell. "Of course, Zeus."

Miss Barrymore did some subtle smirking of her own, not willing to miss her opportunity to gloat.

Corbin could not wait for the meal to be over.

***

Io tarried more than an hour after dinner before dragging herself to Zeus's study to face whatever judgment awaited her.

"Please have a seat," Zeus said when Io entered.

Rather than sit behind his desk, Zeus took a chair beside her and crossed one long leg over the other, regarding her steadily for a moment before speaking. "It has come to my attention that you are seeking another house in London."

It wasn't a question, but Io nodded. "Yes. I have been looking for a property to lease." She hesitated and then boldly added, "Your allowance is so generous that engaging lodgings of my own is feasible."

He tilted his head slightly. "You must know that I cannot allow you to live on your own in London, Io."

She opened her mouth to say something foolish and antagonistic, but he was not finished.

"If you are so unhappy here, then I will send you home to your commune if you wish. But you will not use your allowance to rent separate lodgings in London.

"So what you are saying is that the allowance you give me is mine, but not to spend as I wish?"

His eyes narrowed slightly at her combative tone. "In this instance, yes. That is exactly what I am saying."

Io opened her mouth, preparing to rail against this stranger who now controlled her life.

But when she looked into his eyes, her anger faltered. For the first time since she had met him, Io did not see the reserved but benevolent face of a brother.

Instead, she saw the pragmatic, implacable man of business who had amassed a fortune equal to the likes of Stanford and Morgan.

She saw the officer who had won the Medal of Honor for charging directly into enemy fire to rescue one of his men.

She saw the Duke of Hastings.

And she knew that he would not be moved by harsh words, recriminations, or threats.

Io could not recall feeling quite as powerless as she did at that moment. Never in her life had her choices been taken away from her so blatantly and utterly.

That's not true. Have you forgotten about Lamar? Or the baby? Zeus is merely holding you to a promise you made. The elders at Canoga took away more than he ever has.

As it always did when any memory of that time in her life arose, her mind skittered away from it like a startled spider.

When she looked up, it was to find that the man across from her was no longer terrifying and stern, but once again Zeus, her brother.

He was regarding her with a notch of concern between his eyes. "What can I do to make your life in my house more pleasant, Sister?"

You could start by jilting your fiancée.

"I cannot think of anything right now," Io lied. And then she stood. "If you will excuse me," she said, before she opened her mouth and made an already tense situation worse.

Io might not be free to lash out at the Duke of Hastings, but that was not true for his tattletale, Corbin Masterson.

***

Corbin was sitting in the library looking over the furniture and drapery inventories that Mrs. Dryden had drawn up. It was his job to approve her recommendations and then contact the various vendors to set up accounts so she could take care of the actual purchasing.

More than anyone except Hastings himself, Corbin knew how rich the new duke was.

But as wealthy as his friend was, bringing a behemoth like Hastings Park up to snuff was going to cost a fortune—perhaps even two.

It boggled Corbin's mind to contemplate how much money would need to be spent over the next few years to make even basic repairs to the vast, rambling structure. And that would only be the beginning. Hastings would have to maintain the castle for the rest of his life. Honestly, Corbin was not sure it was worth it. But then his friend didn't really have a choice. The property belonged to the dukedom. Hastings could not sell it, even though that would be the wisest action.

He sighed and turned back to the stack of papers on the desk.

When he finished with Mrs. Dryden's lists, he turned to the roof estimate, wincing at the price of lead, which was—

Corbin jolted when the library door suddenly flew open and slammed against the wall.

Lady Io whirled into the room like a velvet tornado. "Just who do you think you are?" she shouted, coming to a halt in front of his desk.

Her scent—something clean and citrusy and far too appealing—had a deleterious effect on both his hearing and comprehension.

"I beg your pardon?" Corbin said stupidly.

She thrust her index finger at him, coming so close that she almost touched the tip of his nose. "Don't act the fool with me, Mr. Masterson!"

Corbin's temperature spiked at having a finger shoved in his face. "Evidently I really am a fool, because I have no clue what you are in such a twist about."

"You told Zeus that I was looking for lodgings in London."

Corbin opened his mouth to tell her that—against his better judgment—he had done no such thing. But she was not interested in hearing from him. Judging by the sparks flying from her eyes and her heaving bosom, Lady Io was on a full-blown tear.

"Don't even try to deny it!" she said in a ringing voice.

Corbin made no such effort.

Instead, he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. He might as well be comfortable while he endured what would doubtless be an extended rant.

"You, sir, have thrust yourself into my business since the first day we met."

Corbin blinked.

"Why you believe that you possess the right to have any say at all in my affairs, I cannot guess. How would you like it if I decided to root through your life like a pig through a pile of scraps?"

Corbin opened his mouth but then paused, taken by that graphic image.

"I'll tell you how you would react," she raged on. "You would be furious and tell me where I could put my nosy curiosity. You would—"

"My interest in your activities is not nosy curiosity, it is part of my job," he said coolly. "A job as defined by my employer, who just happens to be your brother. If you don't care to have me thrusting and rooting around in your pile of scraps then you should be railing at His Grace right now rather than me. Trust me, I would be ecstatic if you could convince him to award the task of keeping you out of trouble to some other unfortunate soul."

Her jaw dropped.

Somehow, they had ended up almost nose to nose. Or chin to nose, rather, Lady Io glaring daggers and breathing heavily while Corbin kept his seething on the inside.

"I have a theory, Mr. Masterson."

How did she manage to make Corbin's surname sound so… naughty?

"Do you know what I think?" she asked.

"I suspect you are about to tell me."

"I think you cannot keep your nose out of my business because you have no life of your own—at least nothing of any interest."

Corbin bristled. "I could say the same thing about you." Damnit! Why do I allow her to goad me into incivility?

"What are you talking about? I have never once meddled in your affairs."

"I am talking about the fact that you are constantly seeking out conflict, strife, and danger to give your life meaning."

Corbin immediately wished he could take the words back. Not only was it unprofessional of him to squabble with his employer's relatives, but something like pain flickered in her expressive eyes.

But she was the indomitable Lady Io Hale and rallied quickly. "I suppose you would suggest a husband and a half dozen children to make my life more meaningful?"

He shrugged. "That would certainly be a more productive, safe, and less contentious way of spending your time."

Yet again Corbin cursed his tongue. Being illegitimate, he had learned early on that he had to be twice as wary as any of his peers, always weighing his words and making damned sure they were the correct ones before he opened his mouth.

He never spoke thoughtlessly—or he never had before—and yet this woman had him striking out like a startled snake, over and over again.

She shook her head in disbelief. "You really are amazing."

Why did Corbin think that wasn't meant as a compliment?

"You needn't worry about reporting anymore to Zeus about my London plans. He has effectively quashed them by threatening to take away my allowance if I disobey him."

"Are you really surprised by that?"

"I thought you were the one who said he never went back on his word?"

Corbin sighed. "Surely you can see that a lady of your station could not live alone without attracting speculation?"

"What sort of speculation?"

"Are you being willfully obtuse?"

"No, I am not."

Corbin was not sure he believed her, but he explained anyhow. "You are a young unattached female who is, thanks to His Grace's financial endowment, wealthy. That makes you a target for unscrupulous men, who would have a far easier time compromising you if you lived without the protection of a male relative. Living alone at your age shows a lamentable independence that will mark you as a woman of questionable virtue in ton circles, which will make finding a suitable husband far more difficult." Corbin bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood, but the prudish words were already out.

"You sound exactly like a male version of Edith," she said, shaking her head in amazement and eyeing him with revulsion.

He could not deny the accusation; he really did sound like a moralizing, pompous prig.

But no matter how Corbin's words mortified him, that did not diminish the truth of them.

Strangely, Io didn't hurl the marble paperweight on the desk at his head. Instead, her eyelids lowered, making her appear even more sensual than she normally looked. And then she stepped closer, not stopping until they were almost touching.

Corbin uncrossed his arms and opened his mouth to ask what she was doing, but she stroked a finger across his lower lip and the question died an instant death.

"Just look at you, Mr. Masterson." Her voice was low and sultry.

Step away—no run away, a voice shouted inside his head.

Corbin told himself that the reason he didn't back away was because he refused to allow her to push him around.

But that was a lie.

"What about me, my lady?" he asked in a gruff voice.

Her nostrils flared slightly, as if she were scenting her prey, her heavy-lidded gaze on his mouth. "You are an exceptionally attractive, masculine, and virile man Corbin."

Her audacious words, along with the sound of his Christian name on her tongue, sent a thrill up his spine.

And another directly to his cock.

She leaned even closer, until he could feel the heat of her body. "Have you ever considered that instead of dancing attendance on my brother's virago of a fiancée you might be better served finding a female of your own to please?" She paused and then added, "Someone who would give you pleasure in return."

Get the hell away from her! A voice like a klaxon blared in his head.

But Corbin could not have moved if she'd struck a match and set fire to him.

Her finger dragged down his lip, over his chin, and then down and down to his chest, where she splayed a hand over his heart. The entire time, their eyes were locked.

"Mr. Masterson your heart is racing," she said in a tone of mock surprise.

That was no exaggeration; his heart was pounding like a bloody war drum.

After a moment, her hand continued its southerly journey.

Corbin's eyes bulged. She wouldn't. No… She could not be so—

He hissed through clenched teeth when Lady Io's palm stopped on top of his erect cock.

By some miracle, he rediscovered his ability to speak."What do you think you are do—"

"Shhhh."She squeezed him lightly and he gasped.

Io leaned close enough that her breath was hot on his chin. And then she began to firmly stroke his aching rod. "You are tumescent, Mr. Masterson. Magnificently so if I may be so bold."

Corbin's brain was trapped between utter incredulity and arousal so fierce that he was a hair's breadth from ejaculating in his trousers.

"Here I am, an unmarried gentlewoman—in my brother's library—and the man in front of me—my brother's own secretary—has an erect penis pressing against my palm." Her lips brushed his chin. "My reputation, once so sterling, is now surely tarnished beyond repair. Isn't it?"

You are a disgrace, Corbin Masterson, a disgusted voice in his head shouted.

He was a disgrace; he could not deny it.

Nor could he step away from her hand.

"Are you going to report this little interlude to His Grace, I wonder? Tell him how unsafe my virtue is under his very own roof."

Her words—and his own shame—were, thankfully, finally, enough to break her spell.

Corbin closed his hand around her wrist and gently, firmly, and reluctantly lifted her palm off his cock.

And then he stepped away.

She was smirking up at him. "It seems to me that young ladies of gentle birth can find themselves compromised just about anywhere, Mr. Masterson. I don't even need to rent my own house." Still smiling, she brushed past him and sauntered to the door.

Rather than leave, she paused and turned to him. "But I discovered that I was wrong about one thing tonight."

"What?" he asked despite his better judgment.

"I once accused you of beinga neutered, domesticated lapdog." Her catlike eyes dropped to his tented trousers. ‘I was decidedly wrong about at least part of that."

Corbin was so addled that he didn't even think of opening the door for her until she was already closing it behind her.

He sank into his desk chair with a groan of disbelief at what had just happened. At what he had allowed to happen without even a token act of resistance.

The woman was a bloody menace and it was time for him to admit that he had no backbone where she was concerned. The best thing to do—for everyone—was to give Hastings his two weeks' notice and run as fast as he could away from Io Hale.

Liar. You want to run toward her.

He ignored the taunt.

Unfortunately, Corbin also had to ignore the urge to run.

He had given the duke his word that he would stay for a year.

Io Hale might be able to drive Corbin's temperature up—and cause his body to respond in ways he could not control—but he would be damned if he'd let her outrageous taunts and lascivious needling cause him to behave like anything less than a gentleman ever again.

Today was the last time he would allow the woman to get under his skin.

Ever.