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He swiped her lips, his tongue doing a too-brief slide against hers. ‘Dress up, panties down,’ he ordered and turned to run up the stairs.

‘You touched me so don’t forget to wash your hands,’ he yelled. ‘Your eye make-up is too pretty to sport allergy red eyes.’

Fair point.

* * *

Bythesea Hall and gardens was everything a ducal country house should be: huge, imposing and bloody impressive.

Eden, standing in the rose garden– behind her was a maze and a knot garden– looked up at the Hall looming over them and shook her head.

‘I’m glad I’m not the one who has to clean those windows,’ she murmured. ‘How many are there, Henry?’

Henry, dapper in a grey suit, patterned vest and an open-neck white shirt, slid his hands into his pockets. ‘Far too bloody many,’ he morosely replied.

‘How many bedrooms?’ she asked.

‘Twenty-six,’ he reluctantly admitted. ‘Most of which are closed up.’

‘You have twenty-six beds in that house?’

‘That’s about twenty-three too many,’ Henry said, and Eden saw frustration flicker across his face.

‘Only a duke with a massive house on a huge farm could say that,’ she said, thinking that she’d grown up in a two-bedroom flat and never once had had the room to herself. She’d always been expected to share her room with a child, or two, who needed a bed.

‘It’s not as wonderful as you think it is,’ Henry told her, raking his hand through his hair. ‘It’s a bloody burden, to be honest.’

Yeah, because how hard could it be to have that much room? She patted his arm and grinned. ‘You poor thing, being an actual duke with an actual title and an actual bloody great mansion to your name.’

Henry forced a smile and Eden frowned. Come on, surely he knew she was teasing? ‘Did I say the wrong thing?—’

He shook his head, took her hand and squeezed. ‘No, it’s okay,’ he replied, raking his hand through his hair. ‘Sorry, it’s just been a long week.’

Eden’s eyes drifted over the hundred or so guests who stood around, sat on sofas, lounged in deck chairs or on garden benches.

Waiters circulated with trays of nibbles– sushi and teeny-tiny sandwiches, one-bite sausage rolls and quiches– and endless trays of champagne.

Soft drinks and hard liquor were available from the bar set up under the white, exquisite nomad tent.

Staging this party had to have cost a fortune, Eden mused, but it was great publicity for next weekend’s polo match.

Inevitably, it would take a hefty chunk out of Henry’s bank account, but the publicity value was through the roof. She was so grateful, so she stood on her heels, took his hand and kissed his cheek. She squeezed his fingers. ‘Thank you for doing this, Henry. You’re pretty amazing.’

He sent her an uncomplicated, friendly grin. ‘I think you’re pretty amazing too.’

How could she feel absolutely zero for such a good-looking guy, when Jed just had to look at her and she melted into a puddle at his feet?

Like earlier… After his shower, and super quick, freakin’ mind-blowing sex, he’d dressed swiftly.

When she took in his outfit, her jaw had dropped a little. Okay, maybe a lot.

Jed in jodhpurs and jeans was sexy, but clean-shaven, and wearing beige trousers, an open-collared white shirt under a milk-chocolate linen jacket and trendy trainers, he looked like he’d stepped out of a photoshoot.

A blue-and-brown patterned handkerchief peeked out of his jacket pocket, and she was reminded that, while he loved being in the saddle and his workshop, he’d grown up with wealth and was stylish to his core.

Talking of Jed, where was he? Her eyes scanned the crowds. He was tall, so he wasn’t hard to find. Footballer, footballer, footballer’s wife, fashion designer, Vince and Tara.

She gripped Henry’s hand so hard he gasped.

Henry tugged his hand from hers and shook out his fingers. ‘Jeez, Eden, you nearly broke my fingers.’

To hell with his fingers, he’d recover. The Bancrofts were here.

This party wasn’t big enough for her to hide from them, so she needed to leave now , before they saw her.

And because Henry was the Duke and a drawcard, she needed to get away from him as soon as possible.

Putting her back to where they stood, she looked up at Henry.

‘I’ve got to go,’ she told him. ‘I need to leave. Right now. ’

He threw up his hands. ‘But why? What’s wrong?’

‘I can’t be—’ She pulled back her words and shook her head. She touched her temple with the tips of her fingers. ‘I have a headache and need to go.’

‘A headache? It came on so quickly?’ Henry asked, sounding sceptical.

Eden thought fast. ‘I think it might be the start of an allergic reaction,’ she lied. She hated lying but it was the only valid excuse she had for leaving the party so abruptly. ‘I’m going to have to take an allergy pill, but I didn’t bring any with me.’

‘I’m sure I have some?—’

She shook her head, quite violently. ‘No, Mick told me I have to be quite careful about what I take.’ Now she was dragging Mick into her subterfuge.

She laid a hand on Henry’s arm. ‘Do me a favour, please?’ When he nodded, still looking unconvinced, she continued, her words coming fast. ‘Please tell Jed that I’ve taken his car home and ask him to hitch a lift with one of his sibs or Troyden. ’

Henry grimaced. ‘Even I know that Jed hates anyone driving his E-type.’

Right, that. Eden winced. She’d been surprised when, instead of leading her to his Land Rover, Jed steered her toward a garage behind his workshop and lifted the door to reveal a stunning cream, vintage Jaguar.

It was a sexy car, perfect for a guy wearing designer threads to drive a post-orgasmic woman to a fancy garden party. And she’d noticed the way his hand drifted over the bonnet, it was the same way he touched her.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eden,’ Henry told her, heart attack serious.

Well, running into the Bancrofts would be worse and she was out of options. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘It’ll be fine, Henry,’ she assured him. ‘And if he kills me, say nice things at my funeral, ’kay?’

Not giving him a chance to respond, she spun around and sped off toward the car park to put herself behind the wheel of Jed’s treasured car. She hadn’t driven in four years, and it had been a decade since she’d last driven manual.

She could either stay and have a confrontation with Tara and Vince, after the police raid, or take her chances with Jed’s car. The choice was really easy to make.

* * *

Jed made it to the car park just in time to see his beloved car– and the woman he was beginning to realise he was crazy about– passing through the ornate gates of Bythesea Hall. She took the corner too fast, the car had a lot of power, and even from a distance, he knew she was in the wrong gear.

Fuck. Fu-uck.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled, his temper heating rapidly. He loved his car, but Eden’s safety was his priority. If anything happened to her, if she so much as broke as nail…

Her phone rang and rang, and eventually went to voicemail.

He had enough sanity left to be happy that she had both hands on the wheel and wasn’t trying to handle the car and answer her phone.

‘You’d better have a damn good explanation for this, Eden,’ he said, when her bog-standard ‘leave a message’ voicemail ended.

‘And you’d bloody well better text or call me when you get home. I want to know that you are in one piece.’

He rammed his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and linked his hands behind his head, staring at the long driveway leading to the road.

Should he call a taxi? Ask one of his sibs to run him home?

But that would raise their curiosity, and he’d have to answer questions about what was wrong with Eden and why she’d bolted.

What was wrong with Eden, and why did she bolt?

He’d been on his way to join her and Henry, unhappy at their hand-holding. But because he’d been caught in a conversation with a wealthy team owner who’d just pledged a significant amount to Hope Harbour, he couldn’t immediately disengage and plant his fist in Henry’s face.

Metaphorically.

Maybe.

It had taken him ten minutes to cross the garden and when he did, he hadn’t bought Henry’s explanation of Eden’s sudden disappearance due to an allergy attack.

He’d been sleeping with her for a few weeks now, and brief contact and a kiss with his horse-dander-covered self wasn’t enough to bring on an allergic reaction.

She was a lot better than she’d been initially, and he knew she took a daily dose of antihistamines and that her allergy was under control. No, whatever had sent her bolting wasn’t an allergic reaction. But what?

Henry came to stand next to him and Jed whirled around, happy they were alone and that he had a target for his anger. ‘What the fuck did you say to upset her?’

Henry lifted his hands, palms up. ‘Nothing, I swear. She was happy, then she said she had a headache, then an allergic reaction. Then she bolted.’ He looked genuinely confused and Jed remembered that he’d had his hands on his woman.

And wasn’t that a stupid word for whatever Eden had come to mean to him?

It was too weak, too pale, too bland. Too everything.

‘Last warning,’ he said, wrapping his hands around the lapel of Henry’s jacket. ‘I’ll rearrange your face if you put your hands on her again.’

Henry broke his hold with more ease than he expected. ‘Oh, get over yourself, you prick. Everybody can see that she doesn’t have eyes for anyone but you.’