He smiled, not triumphant but wistfully grateful, and her heart turned over.

"Mignonne,will you be mine? Will you marry me and be my d.u.c.h.ess-my partner in all my enterprises . . . my wife for the rest of my days?"

Yes seemed far too simple. "You already know my answer."

He shook his head, his smile deepening. "I would never be so foolish as to take you for granted. You must tell me."

She couldn't not laugh. "Yes."

He arched a brow. "Just yes?"

She smiled gloriously, reached up and twined her arms about his neck. "Yes with all my heart. Yes with all my soul."

There was nothing more to say.

In perfect accord they traveled on to Somersham as Sebastian had decreed, but when they arrived, he discovered that, powerful though he might be, there were yet some things beyond his control.

The huge house was full, filled to the rafters with family and friends, all waiting to hear their news.

"Isaid just the usual crowd." He bent a narrow-eyed look on Augusta as, beaming and bright, she kissed his cheek. "You've a.s.sembled half the ton!"

Augusta pulled a face at him. "It wasn't me who sent a notice to the Clerk. After that, what would you? You can hardly expect the tonnot to be interested in your nuptials."

"Indeed, dear boy." Clara was in alt. "Such amomentous occasion! Of course everyone wanted to be here. We could hardly turn them away."

Augusta embraced Helena warmly. "I'm so pleased, as is everyone here! And I hope you won't think us too busy, but Clara and I knew how it would be-my brother would never let a little thing like a wedding gown stand in his way-so we've had a gown, my mother's old gown, remade. It should fit-we used the gowns you left here to match, and Marjorie's been so helpful. I do hope you like it."

"I'm sure . . ." Helena's head was whirling, but she couldn't keep the smile from her face. She introduced Ariele, who Augusta greeted with glee.

"Sixteen? Oh, my dear, you'll do wonderfully well!"

Phillipe, understandably, frowned when he was introduced, but Augusta didn't notice. Ariele flashed him a quick smile, and he brightened. Before Helena could pay more attention herself, Augusta gathered her and Ariele and waved her fingers at her brother. "You'll have to fend for yourself, Your Grace. The ladies have been waiting to meet Helena, and she'll want to change first." She glanced over her shoulder as she urged Helena and Ariele to the stairs. "You might want to check in the library. Last time I looked in, they'd broached your best brandy. You know, that French stuff you had brought in by water . . ."

Sebastian cursed beneath his breath. He frowned at his sister, who paid not the slightest heed. With a muttered imprecation, he set off for the library.

The front hall and all the major rooms were bedecked with holly wreaths and evergreens, the bustle and cheer of the season augmented and heightened by the excitement of their wedding. Huge logs burned in every grate; the smell of yuletide baking and mulled wine spiced the air.

Christmas was upon them; a time to trust, a time to give. A time to share.

Everyone gathered in the great house felt the inexorable rise of the tide, experienced the welling joy.

So it was on the morning of Christmas Eve, with snow covering the gra.s.s, crisped by a hard frost and scattered with diamonds, a gift from the sun that shone in the clear sky, Helena stood in the chapel in the grounds of Somersham Place and took the vows that would bind her to Sebastian, to his home, to his family, for all time. Heard him take the corresponding vows to protect and cherish her, now and forever.

In the atmosphere of blessed peace, of joy in love, in the time of the year when those emotions held sway and touched every heart, they were married.

She turned to him, set back the delicate veil that had been his mother's, noting the jeweled lights playing over them as the sun shone in benediction through the rose window. She went into his arms, felt them close around her. Knew she was safe.

Knew she was free-free to live her life under the protection of a loving tyrant.

She lifted her face, and they kissed.

And the bells rang out, joyously pealing in salute to the day, in salute to the season-in salute to the love that bound their hearts.

Frost etched the gla.s.s in myriad patterns in the window beside which Sebastian sat writing. It was the next morning, and the huge house lay still, slumbering lazily, the guests too worn out by the revelry of the day before to bestir themselves so soon.

In the large, luxuriously appointed ducal bedchamber with its ma.s.sive four-poster bed, the only sounds to break the silence were the scritch-scratch of his pen, crossing and recrossing the parchment, and an occasional crackle from the fire. Despite the freeze that had laid siege beyond the gla.s.s, the temperature in the room was comfortable enough for him to sit and write in just his robe.

On the desk, beside his hand, lay a dagger, old and worn, sheathed in leather. The hilt was gold, ornate, supporting a large, pigeon's-egg-size star ruby. Although worth a small fortune by weight alone, the dagger's true value could not be measured in any scale.

Reaching the end of his missive, Sebastian laid down his pen, then glanced at the bed. Helena hadn't stirred; he could see the tangle of her black curls lying on his pillow, just as he'd left them when he'd slipped from her side half an hour before.

She'd been welcomed into the Cynster clan with a joy that had transcended even the joy of the season. During their wedding breakfast, which had lasted all day, he'd seen her blossom-shackling Martin and George with her eyes, with her laughter and her smiles, making them forever her slaves, exchanging glances with Augusta, conspirator and companion, already firm friends. He'd seen her deal calmly and graciously with Almira, with an understanding he lacked. Watched her charm Arthur, the most reserved of them all.

As for the rest-the wider family, friends, and connections gathered to witness and pa.s.s judgment-as Therese Osbaldestone had baldly informed him, they all thought him a lucky dog.

Little did they know-much less did they see, except perhaps for Therese. Helena, after all, was too much like him.

He'd never be able to take her love for granted, to expect her love as his due. Powerful he might be, n.o.ble and wealthy, yet there remained one thing he could not command. So he would always be there, watching, always ready to protect her, to ensure that she remained forever his.

Such was the vulnerability of a conqueror.

Therese would doubtless say he'd got all he deserved.

Lips curving, he looked back at his letter. Read it through.

I am returning with this an item to which I believe you are ent.i.tled. You will recall the circ.u.mstances in which it came into my hands, seven years ago. What you never knew was that in sending me to the Convent des Jardinieres de Marie, you set me in the path of your ward, then staying there.

That, my friend, was the one piece of information you lacked. We had met before you sent her to retrieve your item, met and exchanged a promise. In sending her to me to secure that item, you gave us the chance to revisit that earlier promise, to explore it as we had not had a chance to do before.

We have now explored the potential fully and have reached our own agreement. I am now in possession of something worth inexpressibly more than your item-and for that I must thank you. Our future, hers and mine, we owe to you.

Pray accept the enclosed item-yours once again-as a token of our thanks.

You will be interested to know that your ward was not seriously inconvenienced by the accident that unfortunately marred our recent visit. Her energy and inventiveness are undimmed-to that I can personally attest.

And yes,mon ami,she is now the d.u.c.h.ess of St. Ives.

Bonne chance-until next we cross swords.

Sebastian smiled, imagining Fabien reading it. He signed the letter, then sanded it; as he replaced the shaker, a rustling had him turning to the bed.

Brushing back her mane of hair, Helena smiled, languid and sultry, and sank back on the pillows. "What are you doing?"

Sebastian grinned. "Writing to your guardian."

"Ah." She nodded, then lifted one hand and beckoned. The gold band he'd placed on her finger the day before glinted. "I think now that it is I you should deal with first, Your Grace."