EXCERPT

Just then, Ripley, the Crestwood butler, opened the double doors to the salon and announced in his most distinguished, robust tones, “His Grace, the Duke of Weston and Lady Briella Thorndyke.”

Conversation abruptly ceased. All eyes focused on the doorway. Hal quickly stepped forward to greet their guests of honor.

A minor shock sparked through Caroline when she pivoted and spied the Spaniard. He wore evening dress as if he were born to it. But then, what did she expect? He was an English duke, a peer of the realm, just beneath royalty, no longer a callow, moody, Spanish youth.

He was quite disturbing, poised in the doorway like a hawk ready to choose his prey, and more dangerously masculine than she remembered, if that were possible. He needed only to enter a room to set the atmosphere buzzing. Instinctively, Caroline knew she wasn’t the only female who took notice. She, nevertheless, was determined to ignore her mounting nervousness.

The duke’s snowy, ruffled shirt and elegant cravat contrasted against the honey-bronze of his skin. Emerging from his jacket’s sleeves, ruffled lace edged his cuffs. His white brocade waistcoat was embroidered with gold and silver threads and fastened with what appeared to be real gold buttons.

His dark, arresting countenance took Caroline’s breath away. Her lungs emptied while she braced herself to meet him again. Taking a deep breath, she rose slowly, forcing her legs to move and follow her brother to greet their guests. She felt her pulse rate accelerate as she approached Antonio and his sister. The Spaniard’s ebony hair resembled a blackbird’s shiny feathers, cut short and barbered in the current fashion. A deep widow’s peak drew Caroline’s eyes even as his teeth flashed in a haughty smile of greeting.

There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that the Spaniard was more formidable now than when he was younger.