Secret Ways

287 Pages·2003·1.09 MB·English

by  Kat Martin

v1.5
July 31, 2008

Secret Ways
Kat Martin
I'm not afraid, she told herself.
I'm Vermillion. I'm not afraid of any man,
and especially not Caleb Tanner.
She tossed her head, wishing her hair was fashionably done up and she was
wearing rice powder and rouge. "Don't be silly. I wasn't afraid. I was enjoying a
bit of sport, is all. I wanted to see what it might be like to kiss you."
He stiffened and a muscle tightened in his cheek. "That's what you were
doing? Having a bit of sport?" Caleb stalked her, looking hard, even dangerous.
"Then tell me, Miss Durant, did my kisses meet with your approval?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose so. Andrew's kisses are a bit more
forceful. Yours were—"
Caleb jerked her hard against him, cutting off her words. "So you like things
rough—is that it? Then rough is what you'll get."
She tried to turn away, but he caught her jaw, holding her immobile, and his
mouth crushed down with brutal force.
It was a hard, taking kiss. A fierce, plundering kiss with none of the
gentleness he had shown her before and yet her whole body went liquid with
heat. Her fingers dug into the front of his shirt and she wasn't sure if she were
trying to pull him closer or push him away…
contents
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24
25 26 Epilogue
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead,
is entirely coincidental.

An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS

Pocket Star Book published by POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the
Americas, New York, NY 10020

Copyright © 2003 by Kat Martin

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 0-7434-1917-0

First Pocket Books printing April 2003

POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Front cover illustration by Tom Hallman; tip-in illustration by John Ennis

Printed in the U.S.A.
To my mother.
For her years of love and constant encouragement,
and for always being there when I needed her.
I love you, Mom.
1
^ »

Outskirts of London
May 1809
H
er name was Vermillion. It came from the Old French, a color, a bright
Chinese red; cinnabar, some called it.
Vermillion. The word conjured sultry, mysterious images. Hot, lurid, untamed
images.
She had always hated the name.
In private, she called herself Lee. Simple. Straightforward. The middle name
she carried that was more like the person she was inside. Vermillion Lee Durant,
a pretty name, she supposed.
If only it belonged to someone else.
"Hurry, Vermillion, darling. We mustn't keep the colonel waiting."
Lee sighed. No, one must never keep a gentleman waiting. At least not here,
in the world of the demimonde, where every man was king, or at least made to
believe he was.
Lee paused in front of the tall cheval glass to check the fit of her scarlet
velvet gown, a complement to the thick dark red curls swept up on her head, the
style not really à la mode, as was the gown, but softer, more alluring, more
pleasing to the gentlemen.
The elaborate coiffure was laced with gold ribbon to match the trim beneath
the high waist of her gown, which was cut shockingly low, displaying an
abundance of cleavage. The slim skirt, slashed nearly to the knee, was the height
of London fashion, though hardly suitable for a young unmarried woman of
Lee's mere eighteen years.
Still, she was used to the clothes and her sophisticated appearance. She stood
patiently as her little French maid, Jeannie, swung the gold-lined, red velvet cape
around her shoulders and fastened the diamond and garnet pin at her throat.
" 'Ave a good time, chérie," the woman said, though surely by now she knew
it wouldn't be the least bit of fun for Lee.
"Good night, Jeannie." Pasting on the practiced, enigmatic smile her aunt and
her admirers expected to see, she paused at the bedchamber door. "I'll be late
coming home. I'll ring if I need help getting out of the gown."
Her artificial smile firmly in place, Vermillion swept out into the hallway and
descended the curving staircase into the entry of her aunt's elegant mansion in
Parkwood, a small village on the outskirts of London. Gowned in sapphire silk
scattered with brilliants, Aunt Gabriella waited at the bottom of the stairs, her
own, far more sincere smile in place.
Gabriella Durant was forty-six years old, taller than Vermillion and more
slender, her breasts still high, her blond hair thick and luxurious, woven with
only a few strands of silver gray. But fine lines had begun to appear around her
mouth and eyes, and the flesh had loosened beneath her jaw. Though Gabriella
loathed each small flaw, she was still a beautiful woman.
"You look lovely, darling." Aunt Gabby surveyed the ruby velvet gown and
the upsweep of Vermillion's flame-red hair. "More beautiful every year."
Vermillion made no reply. The Durant women were known for their beauty. It
was a simple statement of fact that Lee saw as more of a curse than a blessing.
The butler, Wendell Perkin Jones, a thin, elegant little man who wore his dark
hair parted down the middle and curled at the sides like an emperor, pulled open
the door, and Vermillion caught a glimpse of the carriage, a sleek black barouche
pulled by a pair of matched gray horses, a gift from the Earl of Claymont, her
aunt's current cher ami.
"The coach is waiting," Aunt Gabby said. "Claymont is meeting us at the
theater." Gabriella smiled, looking forward to the evening with a relish