Lisette Hamilton never saw him coming.

Later on she supposed that because she was rushing it was her own fault.  But still he was just as much to blame. A man should always be mindful of where he is going and should take more care when rounding a corner and not throw himself about like a cannon out of barrel. None of it would have happened at all if she had simply stayed in the carriage. But no, she had stopped for a moment to visit with Mrs. Brooks.  Since Lisette was planning to marry the woman’s son, of course she had to stop and speak with her.  It was Henry’s mother, after all.  Yvette had already been complaining of a headache, so Lisette had instructed their carriage driver to take her younger sister home while she remained.  She chatted with Mrs. Brooks longer than she intended before realizing how late she was. Lisette detested being late.  Hated to think that anyone was waiting for her or inconvenienced in any way by her tardiness.  It was the height of rudeness.

Consequently she was walking as fast as she could, her little black boots clicking along the cobblestones of the neat alley behind Devon House.  The alleyway was empty of people except for Lisette that chilly November afternoon, and the sky was heavy with dark clouds. She pulled her muff closer to her for warmth.  Just as she reached the corner, bordered by a high brick wall covered in a thick blanket of ivy –BAM – she ran smack into a wall of another kind. 

Knocked flat on her back with an impossibly tall man on top of her, she could not breathe. 

When Lisette opened her eyes, she found herself drowning.  Drowning in a pair of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Not just a regular, ordinary blue, but the clearest, purest sky blue.  The word cerulean came to mind.  The color of the sky on a clear spring morning.  At first they were wide with surprise but then they narrowed their focus on her.  Her heart seemed to stop and the world faded around her.  Neither she nor the man spoke or moved for a full minute. 

They simply stared in mute fascination of each other.

Oh, but the rest of him was fine also. His face was arresting in its perfection.  A strong jaw.  An aquiline nose with just the slightest tilt at the end.  A mouth that looked as if it smiled easily.  He was not smiling now though.  No, but his lips were close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek.  A lock of his light blonde hair fell across his forehead in a boyish way.

She wondered if she knew this gentleman. The familiarity of him called to her, but she could not place him.   Had she met him recently?  At the book shop perhaps? No. No, Lisette had never met this man.  She certainly would have remembered him.  And how wonderful he smelled, like spices and bayberry.

As she lay with this handsome stranger, Lisette completely forgot where she was going and why she was in such a hurry to get there.  She lost herself in the feel and the weight of the length of his muscular body pressed against hers, barely noticing the cold cobblestones beneath her. His long legs nestled intimately between hers. The heat and strength emanating from him kept her quite warm.  A strange lethargy crept over her as her body melted with his.

The gentleman gently touched his gloved hand to her face in a soft caress.

“Are you all right?” His voice fell in a silky whisper around her, as he traced the side of cheek.

Even speaking could not break the strange spell she was suddenly under. Lisette  only nodded her head in response to him.  Her heart pounded wildly. 

He leaned even closer to her, placing the lightest of kisses on her cheek.  The brush of his warm lips on her skin sent a shaft of pleasure coursing through her entire being. Lisette thought she would faint. This was mad!  She did not even know this man, yet here he was… His lips moved closer to her own, and she held her breath, hoping against hope that he would kiss her.  Heaven help her, she desperately wanted this man to kiss her.  Wanted to feel his lips pressed against hers.  She yearned to kiss him.

The barking of a dog in a nearby yard pierced the air around them, breaking their intimate reverie.

Suddenly aware of their awkward position, they both roused themselves in a fluster. The gentleman made a move to stand up.  Lisette, her cheeks burning, took a shaky breath as she rose on her elbows. Taking her gloved hand in his, he helped her to her feet.  As she stood, he did not release her hand.  Nor did she pull away from him.  Something about him holding her hand felt natural and she did want to let go.

“Are you quite sure you are all right?”

“Yes,” Lisette murmured in a whisper, but she was not all right.  Far from it.  She had never felt less like herself.

“I am terribly sorry,” he began again.  “Forgive me.  I did not see you.”

She had to tilt her head back to look up at him.  Again she felt lost in those blue eyes.  Was it a figment of her imagination that he had kissed her cheek?  Had she dreamed that he almost kissed her lips a moment ago?  “I did not see you either.”

He still held her hand, and he pulled her slightly closer.  “Oh, but we have seen each other now.”

“Yes,” she breathed. The sound of his voice, low and husky, made her shiver with delight. “Now what?”

He smiled at her. It was if the sun suddenly burst through the clouds. Lisette could do nothing but smile back helplessly in response.

“Now I believe we ought to introduce ourselves.  I am Quinton Roxbury.”Quinton Roxbury.  His name repeated over and over in her mind.  Who was he?  And why should this man have such a tremendous effect on her?  Quinton Roxbury.  She suddenly had butterflies in her stomach.  “I…”  She had to pause a moment to recall her own name.  “I am Lisette Hamilton.”

“Well, Miss Hamilton, please forgive my clumsiness.  In my haste I seemed to have knocked us both off our feet.  Are you sure you are not hurt?”

Lisette shook her head.  No, hurt would not be the word to describe how she felt. Mesmerized.  Enchanted.  Awestruck.  Those were better words.

“May I escort you home?”

Again, she shook her head. A strange sense of loss surged through her realizing that their astonishing encounter was coming to an end.  She did not want him to leave.  She glanced across at her hand, still clasped firmly in his.  That reassured her somewhat.

He looked disappointed by her refusal.  “No?”

“I am already home.”  Lisette gestured to the tall white house just beyond the brick wall.

“Devon House?” he questioned, his brows raised.  “You live here?”

“Yes.”

He smiled and then explained, “I was just there, meeting with Lord Waverly.”

“He’s my brother-in-law.”  She felt a little better that Lucien knew him.  He did not seem like such a stranger to her now.  Not that he had right from the start.

“Well, I can at least escort you to the door.”

He released her hand and took her arm.  As long as he was touching her Lisette did not care what he did.  At this moment she would have followed him across London if he wanted.  Instead she walked with him to the front of Devon House.  Her heart fluttered against her chest at the feel of his strong hand on her arm.  Good heavens!  What was wrong with her? 

“Once again, I offer my sincerest apologies for knocking you down, Miss Hamilton.”

“It’s quite all right,” she murmured, as they stood in front of the gate, noting with some satisfaction that he did not apologize for kissing her cheek.  She stared into his eyes.

“I must be on my way,” he said.

“Yes, of course.”

“It was a pleasure running into you.”  He laughed, deep and throaty, and her heart skipped a beat at the sound.  He released her arm.  “Good afternoon, Miss Hamilton.”

“Good afternoon,” she whispered while her eyes followed him as he walked away.  She stood outside the gate, immobile.  She did not even hear the footsteps coming up behind her.

“Lisette!”

She turned around at the sounds of her name.  Henry Brooks stood beside her.  Henry.  “Henry!”

“Who was that gentleman you were talking to?”  His kind face stared at her in obvious concern.

Lisette blinked.  “I don’t really know.  I just met him.”

But she had the strongest feeling