that gave her a slightly exotic look. A wide, full mouth that lifted faintly at the corners.
Her riding habit was of the first stare, although it was doubtful any modiste had ever dreamed any of her creations could be so flattered, or look so circumspect and so wanton at one and the same time.
As a package, taken altogether, Ethan decided, this woman was Original Sin. And Adam had his full empathy.
He amazed himself at his almost embarrassingly poetical mental impression of the female, although he was not surprised to feel eminently attracted to her face and form. This female was fashioned to be alluring. This female who, he finally realized, was so blatantly ignoring him.
“Alejandro, you’re being admired, you lucky bastard,” he drawled quietly. “Bow to the lady.”
Morgan, still fairly oblivious to anything save the magnificent horse, stopped short when the stallion turned toward her, then slowly, gracefully, bent his left knee to the ground as he extended his right leg and lowered his head.
“Oh, you brilliant, handsome boy!” Morgan walked straight up to the horse and placed her gloved hands on either side of its muzzle before planting a kiss between his ears. “What’s his name?” she asked, looking adoringly at the stallion.
“Alejandro,” Ethan answered. “And damn me if I don’t find myself jealous of a horse. Here now, up, you toadeating sycophant.”
Alejandro smoothly stood up once more, and swung his handsome head toward Ethan, showing his teeth in a horsey smile.
Morgan laughed in genuine delight, neither seriously considering the hinted flattery nor insulted by the swear word. After all, she knew who she was, how she looked, and she had grown up at Becket Hall, with brothers who rarely watched their words around her. “It’s as if he understands you,” she said.
“If so, he’s got the advantage of me,” Ethan said, his gaze still drinking in the sight of this gorgeous woman. This gorgeous, well-dressed, unchaperoned woman who didn’t seem to entertain the slightest hesitation to speak with an unknown man.
“Is he Andalusian? I’ve seen a few drawings, but this is the first time I’ve ever—”
Morgan had at last drawn her attention away from Alejandro, to speak with his owner. Whatever she’d planned to say—had she planned to say anything?—became lost as she looked at him.
Simply looked at him. As if she’d never seen a male of the species until that moment.
His eyes attracted her first. Nearly straight brows, low over long, green eyes, with the whites accentuated by thick, dark lashes, those eyes seemed amused and unreadable at one and the same time, as if the laugh lines that fanned from the outside corners could be genuine, or were just a clever facade meant to keep anyone from looking any deeper.
His nose was magnificent. She’d never thought a nose could be described that way, but this one could be—so wonderfully straight, the nostrils slightly flared above a most…a most intriguing mouth. Even his ears seemed perfect, lying flat against his head and visible because his darkly blond hair had been ruthlessly combed straight back off his only slightly lined forehead to brush at the collar of his shirt.
His long, leanly muscled body was clad seemingly carelessly in that open-necked white shirt, a dark leather vest, fawn buckskins and high-topped riding boots.
Her brothers dressed much the same way at Becket Hall. But this was different. This was…this was dangerous. Personally dangerous.
And she was being silly! She wasn’t intimidated by a man. Why would she be? Men were intimidated by her.
But not this one. He was the most man she’d ever seen.
A dangerous man. Definitely dangerous; a clear warning positively radiated from him. She could all but see it, an aura of deep red ringed with yellow surrounding him, which could be some trick of the sun but she was certain was not.
Years earlier, Odette had told her about such things, how certain creatures, human or beast, stood apart from others merely by being alive. Their power was stronger, for good or for evil, and a wise person who encountered one of these creatures recognized that and made subsequent choices, decisions, accordingly.
Odette had told her that Ainsley Becket was one of the dangerous ones. Odette had seen that in an instant and she had followed him, because to be with him was much preferred to being against him, as she had also sensed his good heart.
“But he’s only Papa, he’s not dangerous to me, not at all. What should I do, Odette?” Morgan remembered asking the voodoo woman. “If I ever see one of the dangerous ones, I mean? What should I do?”
Odette had laughed, that deep, rich laugh that came from somewhere deep inside her. “Child, you already know the answer. You are one of them, one of the dangerous ones. You do not pick the danger, it chooses you, and only a foolish woman would deny that truth. But, inquisitive child, to answer your question…the good Virgin only knows what would happen if you ever came up against one of your own kind, one with your own powerful will.”
Morgan wondered what the good Virgin might be thinking if she chanced to be looking down from heaven at this moment.
She really should stop staring at him. But he was staring at her, and fair was only fair.
He waited, watching her look at him, enjoying the luxury of looking at her, then finally broke the silence. “You were about to say something?”
Morgan raised her chin slightly, refusing to be embarrassed that she had been staring, and instinctively went on the attack. “And who, sir, are you?”
“Me?” His grin was boyish, unaffected, carving long, slashing dimples into his lean, tanned cheeks—which made him seem even more dangerous than before. “Why, I’m abashed,” he drawled, slowly advancing toward her. “Bedazzled. Enchanted. And, for my sins,” he added, bowing from the waist, while keeping his amused green gaze on her, “I am also Ethan Tanner, Earl of Aylesford, at your service and your every command, madam.”
“Really,” Morgan said, wishing her heart would show some sympathy and slow from its furious gallop. She’d already half expected him to be somebody important, as he was dressed well, if casually, and his horse was not the possession of a simple country squire.
As the stallion nuzzled her shoulder, she schooled herself to calmly raise one hand to stroke Alejandro’s strong neck, never realizing how striking woman and animal looked together. “How wonderful for you.”
Ethan tipped his head slightly to one side, looking at her quizzically. How wonderful for him? Harriette Wilson wouldn’t be so bold, and she was a practiced courtesan. And damn Alejandro for the traitor he was.
Who did this luscious woman belong to? And how much would it cost him to take her away from any fool so stupid as to let her roam free? Half his fortune didn’t seem too much to pay.
“Yes, thank you,” Ethan said, “I am rather pleased my mother had the good sense to marry well. And, if I may be so bold, as no one else seems to be present to do the honors, may I ask your name, beautiful lady?”
Should he have called her a beautiful lady? Morgan doubted that he should. She more than doubted it, after enduring long hours of Eleanor’s lessons on how one behaves in society. Still, he intrigued her, and
