"The game's not been taken?" Julian asked, shocked.

John shook his head. "None that I can tell, and there's been no attempt to hide his deeds-it is as if he wants his foul handiwork found."

Julian stared hard at John's weather-ravaged face. Leaving the game behind was unheard of...No poacher would do so. And no poacher with any sense would brave running into John by returning time and again. Yet, someone, Julian admitted, was entering his land at will, and if John was to be believed, senselessly slaughtering his game.

Rising to his feet, Julian said, "Take me to the most recent site."

Julian had hoped that John had exaggerated the situation, but riding home after accompanying John to the latest kill, he knew that his gamekeeper had not exaggerated. The deer had been savaged as if by a wild beast. A wild beast armed with a knife...Julian felt the bile rise in his throat. Good God! What sort of monster could be responsible for the carnage? And how, he wondered, was he to find him and stop him?

Lady Diana might very well be a silly woman, but she was not a stupid one and it had only taken her a matter of days to realize that while Nell was everything that was kind, this was the younger woman's home now. Of a docile nature and never one to pout or repine long on events unchangeable, Lady Diana had instantly turned her attention into making the Dower House into an elegant home for herself and her daughter.

The Dower House, situated a scant mile from Wyndham Manor in the middle of its own pretty park, had sat empty for the past twenty years or so, ever since Julian's great-grandmother had died. The sprawling house, built on the site of a much older building, was two storied, with a steep tiled roof and tall, arched windows, and surrounded by several terraces adorned with shrubbery that was overgrown. The entire place had received only a minimum of upkeep over the years and the renovations, both inside and out, would be extensive. Nell, after walking through the shadowy, echoing house with Lady Diana and Elizabeth, and seeing the changes that needed to be wrought, resigned herself to having Lady Diana and Elizabeth living at the manor for the foreseeable future.

Julian had promptly hired local builders and craftsman for the project but the weather delayed many things. Though the physical renovations were progressing slowly, there was much the ladies could do to help things along and Nell threw herself into the agreeable task of helping select fabrics and furnishings.

Gratified by Nell's interest in the project and discovering that her new stepdaughter-in-law had a good eye for color and style, Lady Diana was delighted to include her, and along with Elizabeth, they were deep into the changes that she had planned. Swatches of fabric, catalogs of furniture styles and advertisements for carpets filled Lady Diana's sitting room and, as winter deepened and the rain beat itself against the windows, seated near the cozy fire, there were intense discussions about wall coverings and fabric and color schemes for the Dower House.

Remembering Lady Diana's coolness to her the few times they'd met prior to the wedding, Nell had not been certain how she and Lady Diana would coexist in the same household together. It took Nell less than twenty-four hours to discover that though Lady Diana could be annoying and bird-witted, there was not a mean bone in her body. And as for Elizabeth...Elizabeth was a poppet and made Nell think that if she'd ever had a younger sister, she'd have wanted her to be like Elizabeth.

At Julian's invitation, Marcus came to dine one evening not long after Lady Diana and Elizabeth had arrived. The meal completed amid much lively talk, the ladies departed, leaving the two gentlemen in the dining room to enjoy their port.

Having noted the ease among the women, Marcus raised his glass in a toast. "You always were a lucky devil and if I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would not believe how easily you drive a unicorn. Congratulations!" He grinned over his glass at Julian. "I was certain that you would have been torn to pieces by now and I came, in pity, to dine over your corpse."

"It is my wife you should congratulate," Julian admitted wryly. "When they first arrived all I could do was stand there wild-eyed and wind-broken like a bayed stag at a cliff's edge. It was Nell who saved the situation. She keeps a cool head about her."

"Delightful though the subject is," Marcus murmured, "I have the feeling that she is not the reason for my invitation to dine. Don't tell me that Tynedale is causing trouble?"

Julian shook his head. "No. In fact, the neighborhood has been very quiet. I have neither seen nor heard anything of Tynedale or my cousins' activities. I suppose I should be worried but there is nothing that I can do until they make a move...if they make a move."

"Then if not Tynedale or Cousin Charles, what has you in a fret?"

His expression becoming grim, Julian set down his glass and leaning forward asked, "Have you ever had any troubles with poachers?'

Marcus looked surprised. "None other than the usual incursions one would expect. Nothing serious."

"Never any senseless slaughter? The game left behind?"

"Never," Marcus said, frowning. "And I can't imagine with John Hunter prowling your grounds that there would be a poacher so lost to saving his own neck that he'd risk falling into John's hands."

"Well, you're wrong there," Julian muttered and proceeded to explain the situation.

"An ugly business," Marcus said when Julian had finished speaking.

Julian nodded. "I've given John permission to hire some extra men to help him patrol the grounds at night. He wants to set traps, but I'll not have the maiming and possible killing of any man on my conscience just because he poached some of my game."

"Doesn't sound like he's poaching," objected Marcus.

"You're right there. And damme if I know what to do! My hope is that John can catch the fellow and we can put it behind us." He stared at his glass. "I haven't told the ladies-don't want to worry them and there's no reason they should know. Not hunters."

Marcus grinned. "Now are you so sure? I wouldn't put it past that wife of yours to turn out to be a great huntress."

"Very possibly," Julian admitted with a smile. "She has surprised me more than once."

"But not unpleasantly?"

Julian shook his head. "No. You see before you a grateful married man."

"And a happy one?"

Julian hesitated. "Yes. And a happy one."

Marcus accepted Julian's claim to happiness, but in truth Julian was vaguely troubled, not exactly happy and yet not unhappy in his marriage. The state of his marriage had occupied his mind of late and he could not figure out why there lingered within him a disquieting feeling of dissatisfaction. He had a lovely, responsive wife, one who ran his household with skill and aplomb and whose eager, yielding body filled him with delight and yet...Something was missing. When he entered Nell's bedchamber she greeted him as passionately as any man could wish, yet he sensed that there was a part of her that she held back, a part of her hidden from him. There was, he admitted uneasily to himself, a barrier between them. It was not an obvious one, but it was there. It was there in the way Nell sometimes studied him, as if she was looking for something, as if she found something lacking in him. It was there in the way, with a smile and light comment, she would slip away from him whenever he paid her compliments or attempted to flirt with her. He snorted. It was a sad day when a husband was reduced to flirting with his own wife and his wife would have none of it. She was...elusive...yes, that was it. Elusive, that was the word. He could not explain it, but he felt it, was aware of it and more aware of it with every growing day.

The fear that Julian still loved his first wife had taken a strong hold of Nell. He was everything one could wish for in a husband, but that mattered little if there was no chance for her to ever win his heart. Admittedly she was halfway in love with him, but Lady Catherine's unseen presence haunted her and helped her keep a firm rein on her emotions. She would not wear the willow for a man who could not love her, nor pine over a man whose heart had been buried in a grave. She would be his wife in all ways and take pleasure in his company, but she would not allow herself to love him. Nell saw no advantage in loving a man who loved another, especially a man who loved a dead woman.

Lady Diana and Elizabeth's company made it easier for her to show the world, her husband included, an untroubled face. It was only at night, after Julian had left her and she was alone in her magnificent bedroom that her heart ached and tears clogged her throat. Julian's lovemaking banished her misery for awhile and she could lose herself in his embrace, revel in the joy he brought her body, but when he was gone...When he was gone from her bed, she felt empty, used. What they did was no different from a stallion breeding a mare in heat, she told herself fiercely, scrubbing away the trace of tears. Lust brought him to her. A primitive instinct. The drive to procreate. That was all that existed between them.

It did no good to remind herself how fortunate she was. That disastrous night Tynedale had kidnapped her could have turned out very differently. Tynedale might have succeeded in his wicked plans. Another man, one far less desirable than Julian, might have happened across her. Instead of disgrace and misery, she had a wealthy, aristocratic husband. She was a countess. She had an elegant home. Her husband was handsome, attentive, kind. But it wasn't enough. No, not nearly enough.

Her emotions dragged her down; behind the facade she kept for the world, she felt tired and out of sorts and though she kept them hidden, tears were never far away.

With the holiday season fast approaching, despite the delicious scents of evergreens and spices in the air, Nell's spirits drooped even further. She tried to take pleasure in the holly and mistletoe scattered throughout the house, in the fresh garlands draped along the banisters and over the mantels, but it was no use. This would be her first Christmas without her family and she was horribly homesick.

One morning a few days before Christmas, sensing that Nell's mind was not on the builder's plans they'd been looking at, Lady Diana pushed the paper away and said, "Oh, fiddle! I am sick to death of worrying about the changes to my house. Let us do something different today."

Nell, looking charming in a gown of olive green cashmere, glanced out the window at the spattering of rain against the windows. "Well, a walk, ride or drive is out of the question. The weather is frightful."

Elizabeth lifted her head from the swatches of silk she'd been studying and said, "I certainly agree with Nell. What shall we do?"

Lady Diana pouted for a moment, then brightened. "We can go explore the conservatory. It will be almost as nice as walking outside on a summer day."

"We did that yesterday," Elizabeth pointed out. "Don't you remember?"

Lady Diana made a face. "So we did. Surely there is something we can do besides pour over these boring plans and books?"

"I haven't explored all of the house yet," Nell began uncertainly, "perhaps there's some feature that is unusual you'd like to show me?"

Lady Diana and Elizabeth exchanged impish glances. "Have you seen the dungeons?" Lady Diana asked.

"D-d-dungeons?" Nell repeated, a chill blowing through her body.

"You mean Julian hasn't told you about them yet?" exclaimed Lady Diana. "Oh, it is too bad of him."

Just as if he'd withheld some great treat from her, Nell thought hollowly.

Leaning forward, Elizabeth asked, "Didn't you know that the manor is built on the site of an ancient castle? And that there is a secret passage leading to some old dungeons beneath us?" She gave a delicious shudder. "It is the most wonderfully terrifying place. Cousin Charles gave us a tour once and told us gruesome tales. We enjoyed it immensely, although Mama had nightmares for a week, and Lord Wyndham, Julian's father, was cross with Cousin Charles for scaring us so." She looked regretful. "Lord Wyndham said that all that talk of torture and murder was nonsense and that Cousin Charles made it up."

Nell frowned. "I thought that there was an estrangement between, er, Cousin Charles and Lord Wyndham."

"Well, there is no denying that the rift has gotten wider, but this was just after the late earl and I had married," explained Lady Diana, "and things were not so bad at that time. Charles was here often, although not so much after that."

Tapping a finger to her lip, Elizabeth said, "You know, exploring the dungeons might not be such a good idea. It was summertime when Cousin Charles showed them to us and I vaguely remember him saying something about them being damp, parts of them sometimes flooding in winter."

"Oh, that's right," agreed Lady Diana. "Oh, pooh! We shall have to think of something else."

"What about the gallery?" suggested Elizabeth.

"I think Dibble has shown me that," Nell replied apologetically. "Although it was only a quick tour-I didn't really have a chance to look at all those family portraits-"

Elizabeth jumped up. "Then you shall. It will be great fun. Wait until you see the portrait of the first earl-he looks a villain of the first order."

The first earl did indeed look like a villain, but Nell could see where Julian had gotten his green eyes and black swooping eyebrows. They started in the oldest part of the gallery and spent an enjoyable time viewing the portraits and commenting and laughing over the style of clothing and hair. As they came into the section that held portraits of more recent members of the family, one of them caught Nell's attention and held her spellbound.

It held a place of honor in a small alcove and a bouquet of fresh, sweet-scented lilies from the estate's greenhouses sat on a small shelf below the huge gilt-framed portrait.

Nell noted the flowers, but it was the figure in the portrait that caught her attention and held her frozen to the spot.

The subject was a young woman, wearing a gown of sapphire blue with hair of gold and sky blue eyes. She was the loveliest female Nell had ever seen in her life and she could not tear her gaze away from that heart-shaped face and dainty form that would not have shamed a fairy princess.

Elizabeth noticed her interest and coming to stand beside her, said softly, "Lady Catherine, Julian's first wife. Isn't she just a perfect pocket-sized Venus? She was so lovely. Her death was such a tragedy."

"Lovely, indeed," Nell said in an empty voice. It was one thing to have a faceless rival, another to know that the woman who had taken her husband's heart to the grave with her had been an incomparable beauty. Nell's looks were not to be lightly dismissed, but she believed herself to be no more than passably pretty. Not for her that glorious mane of brilliant golden hair, and she suddenly hated her tawny locks, neither gold nor brown, but something in between. And as for eyes...Who would ever care for sea green ones when they'd stared into big eyes the color of a summer sky? And that rosy Cupid's bow mouth...Torturing herself, she studied Lady Catherine's perfect form. Not for Lady Catherine a tall, slim, boyish figure, no, Lady Catherine was everything she was not-perfect!

Lady Diana joined them and, staring at the portrait, sighed. "Her death was so sad, so terrible-a carriage accident, I believe. She was so young and so very beautiful. My late lord said that something died within Julian when she did. He was so worried about him he said he feared that Julian would throw himself into the grave with her." Her fingers caressed one of the petals of the lilies. "I see that Julian still has fresh flowers set before her. I wonder if he will ever..."

A pinch from Elizabeth reminded Lady Diana who was standing beside her and, laughing nervously, Lady Diana put her arm through Nell's. Patting Nell on the hand, she said, "I never knew her. She was already dead when I married Julian's father and what I know about her I learned from him. I know that Julian was devastated by her death, but now he has you and I am sure will be happy again."

Nell doubted it.

And that night when Julian came to her, she repulsed his advances for the first time. Lady Catherine's beautiful face lodged in her brain, she turned away from him and said in a low voice, "I am sorry, my lord, but I am not feeling well tonight."

Sprawled beside her on the big bed, Julian had already noticed that she seemed unusually quiet this evening and studying her face, he noted the shadows in the lovely eyes and the paleness of her complexion. "A headache, perhaps?" he asked, taking her hand in his.

Nell looked away from his handsome face and gently disentangled her hand from his. "Only a little one."

He studied her profile, conscious of her withdrawal. And the uneasiness that something was very wrong between them grew. "Have I offended you in some manner?" he asked slowly, his green eyes intent.

Her gaze flew to his. "Oh, n-n-no!" she exclaimed. She forced a smile. "I am just a little tired and out of sorts lately."

Julian accepted her words and dropping a chaste kiss on her forehead walked back to his own bedchamber. The door barely shut behind him before Nell buried her nose into the pillow and burst into tears. She was the most miserable wretch alive and she wished she was dead.

Julian did not sleep well that night. Only a fool would not have realized that Nell was unhappy and he was not a fool. Lying sleepless in his bed, he scoured his mind trying to put his finger on the moment that she'd begun to change, when he'd experienced those first twinges that there was something wrong between them. Not exactly wrong, he decided, but different. He could not recall an incident, a word, or an action, no matter how small, that could have brought about the changes he sensed in her. Tonight had brought it home, though, that his instincts were not at fault. Without having ever won her, he had the terrifying feeling that he was losing her. He smiled bitterly. First Catherine and now Nell. Of course, he'd never wanted to win Catherine.

Both times he'd married under pressure from outside forces, neither time had it been because he'd wanted a wife. With Catherine, despite his misgivings, he'd married to please his father. And just look, he thought savagely, how that had turned out! They'd both been miserable, the death of his unborn child adding to his misery. Although he'd vowed never to wed again, Nell's catapulting into his life had turned his world upside down and once again he'd married for all the wrong reasons, if noble ones. But with Nell he'd been...He'd been, he admitted wryly, eager, hopeful...And now, for reasons he could not explain, Nell was drawing away from him, putting him at a distance. What the hell was he to do? He would not again endure the angry fits and starts, the tears, the recriminations, the screaming arguments that had characterized his first marriage.

Comparing Nell to Catherine was unfair, he admitted-the two women were as different as chalk and cheese. With Catherine he'd never, that he could recall, experienced the pleasure, the delight that Nell gave him. Never.

Annoyed with himself, feeling that he'd been lunging at shadows where there were none, he punched his pillow and tried to get comfortable. Tonight was unimportant, he told himself. Nell had a headache and there was nothing in that to fill him with such disquiet. There was nothing in her gentle rejection to make him think that the ground had shifted beneath his feet. But she was...pulling away from him. He could feel it and was powerless to stop it. At least, so far, he reminded himself darkly, she has not started bursting into tears at the sight of me and blaming me for every ill in her life.

The holidays came and went and although Nell missed her family fiercely, she accepted the fact that Julian and Lady Catherine and Elizabeth were now her new family and she could be happy or she could be sad. She chose to be happy.

January began gray and dreary. Nell was surprised by the lack of snow and the temperate climate, but she longed for spring. After several weeks of rain, as January drew to a close, she felt like a caged animal. Oh, how she wanted to escape the confines of the house. She was not alone in this feeling-even Lady Diana and Elizabeth were moping around. Then, to everyone's joy, the rain stopped and the sun began to shine. Three days later the roads had begun to dry and the sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky. Eager to escape the house, in the afternoon, the ladies, accompanied by two grooms, set out on a gentle ride. Julian was away in Dawlish on business.

Nell was riding a restive black mare, the other two women each riding a gentle hack that suited their abilities. The grooms followed sedately behind them.

The day was fine, cool in the shade, but comfortable, almost warm in the sunlight. After weeks locked inside the house, it was wonderful, Nell thought, to be outside and on horseback again. Stifling the urge to let her mare out into a full gallop, she managed to enjoy the plodding pace that Diana chose.

The countryside was not at its best-many trees leafless and barren-looking, and there were muddy, boggy patches in the road that had to be avoided, but still, it was pleasant. Nell had not yet had much of chance to explore and she looked about herself with interest, liking the glimpses of rolling terrain she spied through the various wooded areas. Fields, orchards and pastures lay beyond the trees, deep thickets of forests surrounding them, and she vowed that in the spring she'd spend hours and hours in the saddle acquainting herself with the area.

When Diana declared that she'd ridden enough, Nell sighed. Though they'd ridden several miles, her mare was barely warmed up and, unable to control the impulse, she turned to look at Diana. "If you don't mind, before we head back, I'm going to let my horse stretch her legs."

Ignoring Diana's shriek of dismay, Nell gave the mare her head and with a snort and a half-rear, the mare raced away like the wind, leaving the others behind. Feeling the powerful body surging under her, her face slapped by the streaming mane, Nell let the moment engulf her. It seemed magical as they flew past trees, fences and pastures, the mare actually taking flight as she jumped over the muddy patches in the road. Nell loved every moment of it and she wished she could ride and keep on riding forever. For a little while her melancholy vanished and she forgot her cares. Forgot the portrait of a beautiful woman hanging above a bouquet of lilies and a husband whose heart would never be hers.

Exhilarated and flushed, eventually Nell slowed the mare. Snorting and prancing the horse let her know that another few miles wouldn't come amiss, but laughing and patting the sleek neck, Nell turned her around and began to ride back to rejoin the others.

The mare traveled at a good pace but they did not cover much ground before one of the grooms, Hodges, riding at a mad gallop, came into view. "Oh, my lady! What a fright you gave Lady Diana," he cried when they met and pulled their horses to a stop. "She is convinced that your horse ran away with you."

"I was eight the last time a horse ran away with me," Nell said lightly. Patting the sweaty neck, she added, "And this little mare is far too good-mannered to try such a thing."

Nell ran her gaze over the groom and his mount. She knew Hodges from the stables and knew his reputation for being a neck-or-nothing rider and the neat bay gelding he was astride looked like he'd give the mare a good run. "How far back are they?" she asked thoughtfully.

"A couple of miles."

A mischievous smile lit her face. "Then shall we see which of us has the better horse?"

A light touch of her heels and the mare shot away. With a gleeful shout, the young groom followed.

The mare had a small advantage, Hodges was heavier and Nell had caught him by surprise, but within moments, as they careened down the road, the bay's head was at the mare's flank. They swung around a curve, lined by the forest, the bay fighting to take the lead when three does, eyes bulging from their heads exploded out of the woods in front of them. Nell desperately yanked on the reins trying to avoid a collision. The mare stumbled and the last thing Nell remembered was flying over her head.

She woke lying on the ground, her head cradled against a very broad masculine chest. Nearby she could hear Diana weeping and the young groom trying to explain what had happened. Blearily Nell glanced around and sighed with relief when she spied the mare contentedly cropping grass not six feet away, the bay beside her.

Her head ached and she knew that she'd have some impressive bruises to show for her spill. She struggled to sit up.

"No, lie still," commanded a man's voice, "and let me see how badly hurt you are. And for God's sake, don't wiggle and make things worse-Julian would have my hide if I let anything happen to you."

She jerked her head up. A stranger held her, but she knew him. "Cousin Charles," she said faintly.

He smiled. "Yes, it is indeed wicked Cousin Charles at your service, your ladyship."

Chapter 11.