Pulling her woolen cloak closer about her shoulders, she hugged her arms around her waist. The nights were colder as autumn advanced. The inky expanse overhead, dotted with sharp points of stars, held a promise of frost before dawn. Where the devil is he? Even as she thought about taking herself back to the house, a shadow separated from the darkness enveloping the gardens. He strolled forward in his easy, languid gait, and starlight glimmered on the epaulets decorating his shoulders. His scarlet jacket became visible as he drew closer. Cold starlight paled his wheat-blond hair to silver, closer in color to her own. “At last.” She released the words in a white fog breath. He climbed the steps, his muscular thighs straining the pale whipcord. His handsome face held a smile of welcome, but his eyes were flat. She clutched her cloak and deciphered his expression. “You are late and, from the looks of it, I assume your mission was unsuccessful.” His sensual smile spread into a lopsided grin.
