Lady Juliette Pemberton fervently prayed he would not be the last. Standing unclothed in the water herself, she knew no lady of breeding would dare ogle a naked man, but any lady who always did the expected had a very dull time of it. There, across the pond, was the most splendid example of manhood that she had ever seen. Up until this moment, she had thought the Earl of Devonshire’s wickedly tight breeches the height of male magnificence, but now she realized there was a higher level. Not being one to pass by any of life’s offerings, she felt not one shred of embarrassment as she gaped like a rustic. A situation such as this was simply too good to be missed. After all, her own father had sent her from her home in England to marry the most dreaded man in all of Scotland. And he’d done it by quoting Pittacus. “Daughter, know thine opportunity,” he had said. Well, obedient daughter that she was, she was taking advantage of an opportunity right now. Juliette stared into the mist that hung over the pool, considering her good fortune.
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