Missed his kisses and hugs.

Missed his deep voice whispering in her ear as he moved seductively within her.

Lilac missed his arms about her in the night and the little lap under her ear when she fussed in her sleep.

Lilac gazed out the window morosely, the dismal day reflecting her heavy heart. Since that fateful night something had changed in Nickolai.

That night he had frightened her; he had been wild and out of control. His lovemaking seemed to be born of eroticism and fury mixed together in a potent brew. He had been more than she could handle; nevertheless, he hadn't hurt her.

Looking back on it Lilac could remember only the intense pa.s.sion in him overwhelming her in his embrace; crashing over her like waves of a storm-tossed sea; pulling her under its voracious current. Nickolai had been the tempest.

Suffering a change into something rich and strange...

Lilac did not have a great deal of experience in this area but she suspected most men did not make love with Nickolai's intensity. It was something she had sensed when she was speaking with the women at Lady Whitney's and later, had come to believe as she got to know her husband better. Nickolai was a most pa.s.sionate man.

At least he had been.

She glanced over at his brother Traed, wondering if the trait ran in the family. The ambient firelight reflecting off his strong, chiseled features cast him in a different light. For one thing, the glow softened his visage and Lilac could see at once the sensual side he tried so desperately to hide. Why? What pain was this brother running from?

Auntie shook her from her reverie by casually saying, "Did you hear about that loathsome Lord Rotewick? It seems he was killed in a duel last week. Served the rotter right, I say! Past time for the likes of him. Never could quite stand the fellow ... something about him gave me the megrims!"

Rejar's hand stilled over the board.

"Who killed him, Auntie?" Lilac continued on with her needlework, not really interested in the topic, but knowing Auntie expected her to ask. It never ceased to amaze her how her aunt was able to obtain all her information on the ton since she rarely left the house.

"No one seems to know."

Pausing in the midst of his move, Rejar pierced Traed with a glittering glance. {Why did you do it?} Traed sat back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. "Your move."

So his brother was not going to answer him.

Fine. If that was the way he wished it! Rejar moved his chip, overturning an entire row of Traed's. He exhaled noisily. {He was mine to deal with! You should have left him to me.} Traed did not even flick an eyelash in response.

Auntie stopped reading, glancing up from her book. "Most odd that part of it... Neither the butler nor that fencing instructor, Herr Schimmer, could remember what the man looked like even though both had seen him."

The Familiar's eyes dilated fractionally, then veiled. He watched Traed speculatively. A vein throbbed in the other man's temple as he bent over to casually make his move.

Rejar was not fooled by the disinterested action; Traed had not wanted him to learn of his involvement in the matter. Now why was that?

"Have you heard about Madeline Fensley, Lilac?" Auntie went on with her sporadic gossip as she read. "Rumor has it she has come down with some type of ague. The servants aren't talking, of course, but-"

"Madeline Fensley? I recently saw her; it was the night we all went to Lady Harcorte's."

"Really? Well, I hear she is quite ill. Why I remember one time, back in ninety-eight when half the city fell victim to a noxious fever ..."

Auntie rambled on about a shortage of leeches in the city. Lilac stared pensively down at her hoop. Should she add a row of purple chain st.i.tches?

She did not notice Agatha had stopped her diatribe to train her lorgnette on the embroidery her niece held in her lap; nor did she notice the elderly woman gape at the hopelessly jumbled ma.s.s of tangled knots and st.i.tches.

When she glanced up, her aunt's attention had quickly shifted back to her book.

Lilac decided to make the chain st.i.tches green instead of purple. She began embroidering, her mind once again going to her dilemma with Nickolai. She sighed. If only he would-Strange; her embroidery seemed stuck.

She could not turn the hoop in her hand!

Surrept.i.tiously, she lifted a corner of the wooden frame. Oh, no! Somehow, she had st.i.tched the sampler to her dress!

She gave it a sharp yank.

The blighted thing wouldn't budge! It was sewn fast to her lap.

What am I going to do now?

Covertly, she scanned the room, making sure no one was watching her. How embarra.s.sing! Here she was trying to impress Nickolai with her st.i.tchery skill and she had gone and done this stupid thing!

It would not make a very artisanlike impression on him, she was sure.

Maybe she could snip it loose with her scissors....

But if she did that, how would she explain a gaping hole in the front of her gown the size of a Portuguese cake?

Somehow she was going to have to escape the room.

Thinking quickly, she suddenly stood, grasping a corner of her skirt with the edge of the hoop in one hand. "I think I shall go up to check my st.i.tching by the light of the window in my room. Auntie."

"Don't be silly, my dear; why not just stand by the windows in here?"

"Be-because the windows in the bedroom face the-the light better." She stumbled over the ridiculous excuse.

Agatha frowned. "Whatever are you talking about? Lilac, really-"

"I shan't be a minute. Auntie!" Lilac raced from the room.

Rejar watched her leave, wondering what was causing her strange behavior. When the game ended in the next couple of moves, he excused himself, following after her.

Lilac was just coming out of the dressing room when Nickolai entered the room.

"Is something amiss. Lilac?" He noted immediately that she had changed her dress.

Color heated her cheekbones. "No, no, everything is fine. I was a bit chilly so I decided to get my shawl."

"But you have changed your dress."

"Yes, well, that works just as well, doesn't it?" She looped her arm through his, leading him back downstairs. Away from the dressing room.

Rejar gave her an odd look.

"How did your game turn out?" She tried to sound very nonchalant.

He smiled. "I won." Rejar was very pleased with his victory; Traed was notoriously clever with games of strategy.

"Is Traed going to demand a rematch?"

"Most likely; however, I thought we might do something together."

Lilac's breath caught in her throat. Her heart speeded up. Finally. "Yes, Nickolai?"

"I want you to teach me to read in your language."

"What?"

"What part do you not understand?" He took her elbow, steering her toward the library.

"I-you mean you cannot read English?" She was appalled. And acting as if there could be no greater crime in existence.

Rejar chuckled. Surely there was no other place like Ree Gen Cee Ing Land. "I realize you are much more civilized than I am, Lilac. Perhaps you will have mercy on my barbarian self." He raised a mocking black eyebrow.

His pithy comment struck its mark; Lilac realized how patronizing she must have sounded. She hadn't meant to-it was just that she was so disappointed by his unexpected request. She had hoped ...

Lilac got a sudden idea.

She would teach him to read and at the same time perhaps she could stimulate more than his mind. It was certainly worth a try. After all, her husband could be very stimulating around books. Look what he'd done for The Tempest.

"Very well, Nickolai." She walked over to the bookshelves and made her selection. Then she went over to the desk for a quill and paper.

"Let's sit here." She patted the spot next to her on the oversized chair.

He hesitated a fraction of a second before joining her, his large frame barely making the snug fit. The adjacent position put her husband in satisfying proximity. In fact, it was the closest he had come to her since that night.

Rejar glanced over at his mate and swallowed. Her flowery scent teased his nostrils. Tiny beads of sweat broke out across his brow. He was already semi-erect. Perhaps this was not such a good idea.

This had been the worst week of his life! He didn't know how much longer he could last. Traed.

Lilac seemed oblivious to his discomfit as she scribbled across the pages of paper, then tore them into smaller squares.

She placed each piece down on the table in front of him, reciting the name of the letter she had written there. "These are the letters of the alphabet; there are twenty-six all together."

"Only twenty-six?" The Aviaran language contained three hundred and thirty-three.

Thinking he was being sarcastic, she replied. "Yes; I have no doubt it will be difficult. However, you will need to memorize these letters first before-"

"A, B, C, D-" He pointed to each appropriate letter as he spoke its name.

Lilac's mouth dropped. "That's amazing! Are you sure you don't know how to read?" She looked at him suspiciously.

He shook his head. "No. I just speak this language. Did I do something wrong?"

"No ... it's simply ... never mind." She wiggled in the seat.

Rejar gritted his teeth.

"Now these letters are called consonants, and these over here are the vowels. ..."

For the rest of the afternoon Lilac instructed her husband, who seemed to be vastly interested in letters and not in the least interested in his wife. Although said husband was failing miserably in the boudoir department, he was proving himself a superior student.

"Nickolai?"

"Yes?" He did not look up from the letters spread before him on the table.

Unconsciously, Lilac poked her little finger again and again through a small hole in the seat of the chair while she thought of a way to phrase what she wanted to ask him.

Rejar noted her action out of the corner of his eye. He tried not to groan.

"Do you think we shall have children soon; I mean ... well, because of what we've done." There! That brought the subject up. She patted herself on the back for her cleverness.

Her unexpected question on a topic he least wanted to discuss at that moment took Rejar by surprise. His jaw clicked audibly. He was not about to discuss Familiar procreation with her. Especially not now. By Aiyah, she would run screaming from the room!

"No," he snapped.

No? This was not what she expected to hear. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "But I thought-"

"I will explain it to you later. Lilac. Now what is this word you have made here?"

"Frolic," she said glumly. "The word is frolic."

Rejar studied the letters carefully.

Fretting over his lack of inclination, Lilac again poked her finger through the small hole in the fabric of the chair. Repeatedly.

Rejar abruptly stood, calling an end to the lesson. "I wish to bathe. I will see you at the evening meal."

He stormed out of the room, leaving her sitting there by herself, staring dumbfounded at the empty door he had just walked swiftly out of.

How odd. He had been doing remarkably well; in fact, he was actually reading entire sentences. She had never heard of anyone doing that so swiftly before. Lilac had to admit that Nickolai was exceptionally bright.

Why had he left like that?

This past week it seemed as though he kept leaving her to ... bathe. Several times a day, if she recalled. And he never requested any hot water. Why would he want to take cold baths? Over and over again? The man was decidedly strange.

Lilac's shoulders sagged. He hadn't appeared affected by her nearness. He seemed no more interested in her than he had been all week. A heavy sensation settled around her chest.

It was time to face the truth: Nickolai did not want her anymore.

A tear tracked down her face. If only she were like Leona; she would know what to do to entice him. Leona had so much experience.

Lilac's head snapped up. Of course! She would go to Leona; the woman would be sure to help her. After all, she had said they were friends.

This was the best idea she'd had all week.