She looked down at Oliver's hands. They didn't look abused, but one of the knuckles looked a little bit red. It might have been her imagination, but still...

She needed to talk to Phillip. As soon as she was able.

Phillip hummed to himself as he carefully transplanted a seedling, well aware that prior to his marriage, he had always labored in complete and utter silence.

He had never felt like whistling before, he realized, never once wanted to sing softly to himself or hum. But now ... well, now it seemed as if music were simply in the air, all around him. He felt more relaxed, too, and the constant knots of tension in his shoulders had started to dissolve.

Marrying Eloise was, quite simply, the best thing he could have done. Hell, he'd even go so far as to say it was the best thing he'd ever done.

He was, for the first time in recent memory, happy.

It seemed such a simple thing now, to be happy.

And he wasn't even sure that he'd realized he wasn't happy before. He had certainly laughed on occasion, and enjoyed himself from time to timea"it wasn't, as it had been for Marina, that he'd been completely and constantly unhappy.

But he hadn't been happy. Not in the way he was now, waking up each day with the feeling that the world was indeed a wonderful place and that it would still be a wonderful place when he went to bed that night and still yet again when he got up the following morning.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like that. Probably not since his university days, when he'd had his first taste of the thrill of intellectual discoverya"and he was far enough away from his father that he didn't have to worry about the constant threat of the rod.

It was difficult to count the ways that Eloise had improved his life. There was, of course, their time in the bedroom, which was quite beyond anything he might have imagined. If he'd even dreamed that sexual intercourse could be so splendid, there was no way he would have remained celibate for so long. No way he could have, quite frankly, if his current appetite was any indication.

But he simply hadn't known. Lovemaking certainly hadn't been like that with Marina. Or with any of the women he'd fumbled with as a university lad, before his marriage.

But if he were honest with himselfa"and that was a difficult task, considering how completely besotted his body was with Eloise'sa"the intercourse wasn't the main reason for his current sense of contentment.

It was this feelinga"this knowledge, reallya"that he had finally, and truly, for the first time since he'd become a father, done the absolute right thing for the twins.

He'd never be a perfect father. He knew that, and even if he hated it, he accepted it. But he had finally done the next best thing, and gotten them the perfect mother.

It was as if a thousand pounds of guilt had been lifted from his shoulders.

No wonder his muscles finally felt unknotted and relaxed.

He could go into his greenhouse in the morning and not worry. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done that, simply gone in and worked without cringing every time he heard a loud noise or shriek. Or been able to concentrate on his work without his mind wandering into guilt, unable to focus on anything other than his lacks as a father.

But now he walked in and forgot all his cares. Hell, he had no cares.

It was splendid. Magical.

A relief.

And if sometimes his wife looked at him as if she wanted him to say something different or do something differenta"well, he chalked that up to the simple fact that he was a man and she was a woman, and his sort would never understand her sort, and truly, he ought just to be grateful that Eloise almost always said exactly what she meant, which was a very good thing, since he wasn't constantly left guessing what was expected of him.

What was that thing his brother had always saida" Beware a woman asking questions. You will never answer correctly.

Phillip smiled to himself, enjoying the memory. Put that way, there was no reason to worry if occasionally their conversations dwindled off into nothingness. Most of the time they dwindled right into bed, which was perfectly fine by him.

He looked down at the bulge forming in his breeches. Damn. He was going to have to stop thinking about his wife in the middle of the day. Or at the very least, find a way to get discreetly back to the house in his condition and find her quickly.

But then, almost as if she'd known he was standing there thinking how perfect she was, and she wanted to prove it one more time, she opened the door to the greenhouse and poked her head in.

Phillip looked around and wondered why he'd built the structure entirely of glass. He might need to install some sort of privacy screen if she was going to come visiting on a regular basis.

"Am I intruding?"

He thought about that. She was, actually; he was quite in the middle of something, but he realized he didn't mind. Which was odd and rather pleasing at the same time. He'd always been irritated by interruptions before. Even when it was someone whose company he enjoyed, after a few minutes he found himself wishing they would just leave so that he could get back to whatever project he'd had to put aside for their benefit. "Not at all," he said, "if you are not offended by my appearance."

She looked at him, taking in the dirt and mud, including the smudge he was rather certain he sported on his left cheek, and she shook her head. "It's no problem at all."

"What is troubling you?"

"It's the children's nurse," she said without preamble. "I don't like her."

That was not what he expected. He set down his spade. "You don't? What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know exactly. I just don't like her."

"Well, that's hardly a reason to terminate her employment."

Eloise's lips thinned slightly, a sure sign, he was coming to realize, that she was irritated. She said, "She rapped the children across the knuckles."

He sighed. He didn't like the thought of someone striking his children, but then again, it was just a knuckle rap. Nothing that didn't occur in every schoolroom across the country. And, he thought resignedly, his children were not exactly models of good behavior. And so, wanting to groan, he asked, "Did they deserve it?"

"I don't know," Eloise admitted. "I wasn't there. She said they spoke to her disrespectfully."

Phillip felt his shoulders sag a bit. "Unfortunately," he said, "I do not find that difficult to believe."

"No, of course not," Eloise said. "I'm sure they were little beasts. But still, something didn't seem right."

He leaned back against his workbench, tugging her hand until she tumbled against him. "Then look into it."

Her lips parted with surprise. "Don't you want to look into it?"

He shrugged. "I'm not the one with concerns. I've never had cause to doubt Nurse Edwards before, but if you feel uncomfortable, by all means, you should investigate. Besides, you're better at this sort of thing than I am."

"But"a"she squirmed slightly as he pulled her against him and nuzzled her necka""you're their father."

"And you're their mother," he said, his words coming out thick and hot against her skin. She was intoxicating, and he was aching with desire, and if he could only get her to stop talking, he could probably maneuver her to the bedroom, where they could have considerably more fun. "I trust your judgment," he said, thinking that would placate hera"and besides, it was the truth. "It's why I married you."

Clearly, his answer surprised her. "It's why you ... what?"

"Well, this, too," he murmured, trying to figure out just how much he could fondle her with so many clothes between them.

"Phillip, stop!" she cried out, wrenching herself away.

What the devil? "Eloise," he askeda"cautiously, since it was his experience, limited though it was, that one should always tread carefully with a woman in a tempera""what is wrong?"

"What is wrong?" she demanded, her eyes flashing dangerously. "How can you even ask that?"

"Well," he said slowly, and with just a touch of sarcasm, "it might be because I don't know what is wrong."

"Phillip, this is not the time."

"To ask you what is wrong?"

"No!" she nearly shrieked.

Phillip took a step back. Self-preservation, he thought wryly. Surely that had to be what the male side of marital spats was all about. Self-preservation and nothing else.

She began waving her arms in a bizarre fashion. "To do this."

He looked around. She was waving at the workbench, at the pea plants, at the sky above, winking in through the panes of glass. "Eloise," he said, his voice deliberately even, "I am not an unintelligent man, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

Her mouth fell open, and he knew he was in trouble. "You don't know?" she asked.

He probably should have heeded his own warnings about self-preservation, but some little devila" some annoyed male devil, he was surea"forced him to say, "I don't read minds, Eloise."

"It is not the time," she finally ground out, "to be intimate."

"Well, of course not," he agreed. "We haven't a bit of privacy. But"a"he smiled just thinking about ita" "we could always go back to the house. I know it's the middle of the day, buta""

"That is not what I meant at all!"

"Very well," he said, crossing his arms. "I give up. What do you mean, Eloise? Because I assure you, I haven't a clue."

"Men," she muttered.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Her glare could have frozen the Thames. It quite froze off his desire, which irritated him no end, since he'd been looking forward to getting rid of it in another fashion altogether.

"It wasn't meant as such," she said.

He leaned back against the workbench, his casual posture meant to irritate her. "Eloise," he said calmly, "try to afford a small measure of respect for my intelligence."

"It is difficult," she shot back, "when you display so little."

That was it. "I don't even know why we are arguing!" he exploded. "One minute you were willing in my arms, and the next you're shrieking like a banshee."

She shook her head. "I was never willing in your arms."

It was as if the bottom dropped out of his world.

She must have seen the shock on his face, because she quickly added, "Today. I meant just today. Just now, actually."

His body sagged with relief, even as the rest of him seethed with anger.

"I was trying to talk with you," she explained.

"You're always trying to talk with me," he pointed out. "That's all you ever do. Talk talk talk."

She drew back. "If you didn't like it," she said in a snippy voice, "you shouldn't have married me."

"It wasn't as if I had a choice in the matter," he bit off. "Your brothers were ready to castrate me. And just so you don't paint me completely black, I don't mind your talking. Just not, for the love of God, all of the time."

She looked like she was trying to say something utterly clever and cutting, but all she could do was gape like a fish and make sounds like, "Unh! Unh!"

"Every now and then," he said, feeling quite superior, "you might consider shutting your mouth and using it for some other purpose."

"You," she fumed, "are insufferable."

He raised his brows, knowing it would irritate her.

"I'm sorry you find my propensity for speech so offensive," she ground out, "but I was trying to talk to you about something important, and you tried to kiss me."

He shrugged. "I always try to kiss you. You're my wife. What the hell else am I supposed to do?"

"But sometimes it's not the right time," she said. "Phillip, if we want to have a good marriagea""

"We do have a good marriage," he interrupted, his voice defensive and bitter.

"Yes, of course," she said quickly, "but it can't always be about... you know."

"No," he said, deliberately obtuse. "I don't know."

Eloise ground her teeth together. "Phillip, don't be like this."

He said nothing, just tightened his already crossed arms and stared at her face.

She closed her eyes, and her chin bobbed slightly forward as her lips moved. And he realized that she was talking. She wasn't making a sound, but she was still talking.

Dear God, the woman never stopped. Even now she was talking to herself.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked.

She didn't open her eyes as she said, "Trying to convince myself it's all right to ignore my mother's advice."

He shook his head. He would never understand women.

"Phillip," she finally said, just when he'd decided that he was going to leave and let her talk to herself in private. "I very much enjoy what we do in beda""

"That's nice to hear," he bit off, still too irritated to be gracious.

She ignored his lack of civility. "But it can't be just about that."

"It?"