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A ND THAT’S WHEN MICHAEL did what so many men are notorious for but he had never once in his life considered doing. He left her without a word.

His body turned to the door. His mouth clamped shut. And his feet bolted out of there. He didn’t stop until he had entered his room and locked his bedroom door. He looked around. Yes, this was his room. He double checked the lock. Yes, it was locked.

But who needed the lock? She hadn’t been the one initiating wickedness. He had…he leaned against the door and sunk to the ground. Draping crossed hands over bent knees, he banged his head against his forearms.

And of course, besides his conscience, what should plague him now but philosophy.

Aristotle said that virtue was the golden mean between two vices, one to excess and one of deficiency.

Given the excesses of legalism and recklessness and their deficient counterparts of corruption and cowardice, Michael was all over the map.

Excessive in his recklessness and deficiently corrupt.

There was no golden mean of integrity and love to be found in him.

His mind was an absolute mess. He had been in her room? How was that possible?

He had swatted her bottom, soothed her. Mauled her with his mouth. He was an animal. There was no excuse. Hadn’t he learned the consequences of acting impulsively? His poor brother. Michael wasn’t even supposed to be the duke.

His eyes burned in remorse. He was a better man than this. He needed to act like it.

The tornado of emotions that had swept through him left him exhausted. He ambled over to his bed and crawled in. Fully clothed.

He closed his eyes and willed away the guilt.

The reprieve was instantaneous. For now.

The next morning was abuzz with women flitting about and carriages being readied for a trip to the village. It was Hope’s idea that everyone needed more Christmas spirit.

His only saving grace was that he hadn’t shared a carriage with Astrid. Had he have known that was to be his only beacon of salvation in the day, he might have been inclined to pack a flask. Or two.

When everyone alighted the carriages, he couldn’t help but smirk.

Hope was correct in thinking that this small trip could imbue more holiday spirit.

The shops were decorated with holly and mistletoe, and the scent of cinnamon was in the air.

Being the attentive hostess that she was, Hope pointed out a few places for various individuals in the group.

It was considerate of her to indicate the bookshop to him. Surely he would pop in there.

At the moment though, he was preoccupied with Astrid. She was standing in front of a trinket store peering in the window. She was alone. Where was her brother?

Michael clenched his fists. The woman exuded raw sensuality. Looking at the sway of her hips, and the swish of her skirts. He could feel the smooth touch of her skin beneath all the layers. So many layers.

A coy smirk tugged the corner of her lips. She was coquettish, wasn’t she? Like she knew something no one else did. She definitely had her secrets. He knew that much.

He was about to go looking for her brother and give him a piece of his mind when he caught a handsome fellow approaching Astrid.

Michael’s fists froze.

The man must have made a joke, probably some ridiculous pun that any monkey brain could come up with.

Astrid threw her head back and laughed. That glorious sound flooded Michael’s senses.

She wasn’t supposed to be laughing with another man.

Especially not that man. He was…well, he was overdressed to be frequenting a village.

And who was he here with anyway? A man didn’t visit a village alone for Christmas shopping. Where were the women in his life?

Michael watched in horror as Astrid’s hand descended on the man’s forearm. He hoped the wool was itchy on her fingers.

This was enough. He had to stop that vulgar disregard for propriety. Astrid looked up at him and winked.

The man turned his head and caught sight of Michael.

Midstride in Astrid’s direction, Michael watched as the man pulled up his collar and quickly disappeared. Just before Michael reached Astrid’s side, Mavis darted out from behind him and took Astrid’s hand in hers.

Michael stood directly behind the dowager as she said, “Astrid, I just wanted to thank you again for your generous donation to the orphanage. You met a rather urgent need. Your magnanimity is unparalleled. You are always so open-handed with your pin money and liberal with your time.”

Michael watched as Astrid flushed under the compliment. She lowered her voice, but he thought he heard her say, “You and your family are the real heroes. I just do what I can.”

Mavis patted her hand. “Some heroes wear masks, my dear, but it doesn’t make them any less a hero.”

“Thank you,” Astrid said.

“Now, who was that fine looking gentleman? Oh, Michael, I didn’t see you there.”

Astrid demured, “I have no idea. He didn’t give me his name. I—”

“What were you two talking about?” Michael demanded in a harsh tone.

She glared at him. “Not that it’s any of your business…but he mentioned an excellent apothecary shop just down the road. He thought that the women in our group might appreciate it.”

Michael grunted. He wanted to press for more details. For example, what was so funny that she had to laugh loud enough to rival the church bells?

But he withheld his interrogation. Mostly because the dowager duchess jumped in.

“Astrid, you must stop by the shop and pick up a tincture for me. See what they have for megrims, please. I must find another footman to help load some packages into the carriages.”

“Of course—”

“Michael, do be a dear and go with her, please.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Michael ground out.

They walked to the apothecary in a strained stillness, but when they entered the store, they both abandoned the silent stand off.

“The gentleman stated that the rose oil sold here was particularly well made,” Astrid said.

“I’ll just bet he did.” What was the man doing advising Astrid to buy an oil used to heighten romance?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. The man looked like a rat.”

“Michael, you didn’t even see his face.”

“I could tell.”

“How?”

“He stunk.” He hadn’t meant it as a joke, but Astrid laughed all the same.

That’s the way it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be laughing at his non-jokes.

Her laugh was supposed to coat his soul in warmth and…

something like goodness. He waited for her touch.

His forearm aching for her delicate fingers to grace his coat.

He even lifted his arm a touch, oblivious to how foolish he might look standing with his arm propped up in the open space.

His heart pounded as he watched her fingers fall into place.

Magic. It was magic. She was pure magic.

And that’s when Michael knew his heart was in trouble.

If only the chaos had ended there, perhaps he might have enough time to collect his thoughts and regain control of his actions.

But then the wanton seductress bought the rose oil. Right in front of him. All while bearing a coy smile. She purchased a megrim tincture for The Maven, and then they were off to join the group. He could only hope. But Astrid had other plans.

First, she waved Hope down and told her about the apothecary. “I really think you might enjoy the products in there, Hope.” Showing off her rose oil, Michael looked away pretending not to be giving his full attention to the words dripping off her lips.

That rose oil…it could be used…alone.

God, he couldn’t stop the blood from boiling in his skin. She may be wanton, but did she have to corrupt everyone around her as well?

But was she acting corruptly? The smile on her face lit a flame in his heart. And the appreciation from Hope was genuine. And Mavis had mentioned that Astrid was generous in her donations to the orphanage.

Who was this beguiling woman?

Pockets of heat were exploding all over Michael’s body. He felt like a geyser. Ready to blow.