Nicholas shook his head. "It isn't just that," he said. "I've said it before, and I mean it. I cannot pass this nightmare on to any offspring. I would rather cut off my cods than risk that."

"Right now, we must set that issue aside; there are other ways of dealing with it," said the doctor. "We need to concentrate upon my cordials and treatments to train your mind to reject the transformations, and worry over passing the condition on once we've conquered that."

"What 'other ways'?" Nicholas cut in. For the first time since the treatments began, there was true hope in his heart, and in his voice.

"Patience, my lord," said the doctor. "No stone shall be left unturned, I assure you. We shall talk on this topic again, but first we need to take care of the business at hand before we move off in another direction."

"Anything," said Nicholas. "I cannot lose her, Dr. Bree-den. She is no jinglebrain. She's hardly ignorant of the law. She wants me to petition the Archbishop of Canterbury for an annulment, or Parliament for a bill of divorcement."

"Can you do that? Do you have the connections?"

"I do," said Nicholas, "but either would be a lengthy process, and difficult. It could take years. She means to go to a distant cousin in Shropshire meanwhile, and take a situation as governess or companion, or even marry again after all is said and done in order to pay back what I've spent on her. I cannot let her go. If I do, I'll never see her again. I would not be able to go after her. What am I going to do, Dr. Breeden?"

"We'd best be about our work," said the doctor. "There's only one thing to do in order to put paid to that plan, my lord; you've got to turn my lady's head around so that she doesn't want to leave you. You've got to consummate your marriage, and quickly."

Chapter Twenty.

"If you will not go with me, I shall go alone," said Sara to Nell, who had dug in her heels refusing to show her any more architectural oddities in the Norman manor. "There is no danger of being caught out, Nell. His lordship and Dr. Breeden repaired to the library right after dinner. They will be closeted there half the night, and it's impossible to do it during the day. There are too many servants about."

"The master'll sack me for fair if he finds out, my lady. I'm supposed ta be keepin' an eye on ya so ya don't come ta harm."

"Which is just what you will be doing, because I'm going off exploring-with or without you, so, if you want to do as he bade, you'd best come with me right now. No one else in this house seems interested in finding Mr. Mallory, and since my future here depends upon it, I must take the responsibility upon myself."

"Depends upon it, my lady?" said the maid, nonplussed.

"Never you mind. Just do as I say."

"What if you do find Mr. Mallory?"

"You let me worry about that. Now, take that candle branch and light out way."

Sara had no idea of the mission she'd undertaken until an hour had passed and they hadn't gotten below the first level of Ravencliff's meandering corridors, and rooms within rooms. They avoided the third floor altogether, as well as the wing that housed the library. It wouldn't do to tempt fate.

Most of the secret rooms were on the seaside, and all were reached through actual suites by surreptitious means: false wails, dummy fireplaces-one even had a wardrobe, whose rear panel gave access. Obscured by the buttressed seawall, a narrow passageway on the far side of these hidden rooms ran parallel to and slightly below the main corridor, joining them like links in a chain that led to the cliff through yet another rear entrance to the house. This she assumed was one of the smuggler's tunnels Nicholas had spoken of. The house was a literal maze of hiding places. How many more could there be? Would she ever find them all?

She unearthed several more priest holes as they progressed. These, however, were level with the entrance, not sunken lower as the one she'd fallen into. Nevertheless, she approached them with caution, and did not venture past their thresholds. The last one, however, impressed her as the most perfect hiding place of all, since it was nearly invisible hewn in the arch of a recessed alcove. It marked the yawning entrance to a tunnel-black as coal tar pitch-that sloped farther downward. Nell stopped in her tracks when they reached it.

"No, my lady," she said. "I won't go another step. The dungeon's down there, and there's ghosts and devils in it." She leaned close, whispering, "We hear them in the servants' quarters sometimes-whistlin' like the wind and howlin' like wolves. You'll not get me down there. I'll give my notice first!"

"That is ridiculous, Nell," Sara scoffed. "There are no such things. If you're hearing sounds from down below, they're no doubt coming from drafts seeping in from the outside. Don't you feel them? My ankles are freezing."

"You ain't getting' me down there, and if ya set foot in that tunnel, I'll go straight ta the master, I swear it, I will."

Sara breathed an exasperated sigh. She had no doubt that the frightened little maid meant what she said. She couldn't risk it. Now that she knew the way, she could come on her own. Vowing to do just that, she conceded mock defeat, and turned back along the corridor.

They hadn't gotten past the priest hole when a rumble of discordant sound exited the tunnel, a bloodcurdling, heart-stopping howl.

"Nero!" Sara cried. "So this is where he goes."

Nell ran back along the corridor the way they'd come, taking the candle branch with her, a troop of screams exiting her throat. Sara raised the hem of her skirt and dashed after her, while she could still see. There were too many twists and turns in the passageway to risk becoming separated from the abigail in the deep dark. Her heart was hammering in her breast. When she reached the girl, she spun her around and clamped her hand over the abigail's mouth.

"Be still!" she said, shaking her. "You will bring the whole house down here. It's only Nero. There's nothing to fear." The howl came again, more distant. "See? You've scared him more then he scared you. You've driven him deeper in now. I can hardly hear him anymore."

"That nasty old dog!" Nell snapped. "I wish the master would hurry up and get shot of him. He came after me, ya know, a few days back. He come tearin' outta your rooms just as I was comin' up from the servants' hall-soakin' wet he was. I told him ta shoo, and he come at me-showed me his teeth, and growled at me, he did. He was droolin' all over the carpet, too. I thought sure he was goin' ta bite me, but he run off growlin', when I stamped my foot at him."

Cold chills raced the length of Sara's spine. That must have been the night she'd doused Nero with water -so much for teaching him a lesson.

"Have you seen him since?' Sara asked.

"No, my lady, but I'm goin' ta tell the master first chance I get. That dog useta be a nuisance, poppin' up outta nowhere and scarin' us half outta our wits, but he never harmed nobody. Now he's gone bad, and he could be dangerous."

"Don't tell the master," Sara said. "Nero hasn't been himself since Mr. Mallory shot him. I'm sure that's all it is. You'd be out of sorts if you were shot, too. I haven't been able to get close enough to see if the bullet is still lodged in him. He is probably in much pain."

"That may be, but I still think the master ought ta know."

"You just leave Nero to me," said Sara. "Whatever the master needs to know, I will tell him. Now, we'd best hurry. Do not dare run away and leave me again! The candles are nearly burned to the sockets; hasty motion will snuff them out altogether, and I do not relish the thought of groping through these passageways blind in the dark."

Whimpering, Nell scurried along the dank corridor, despite Sara's warning. Did the girl not hear a word she'd said? The candles began to flicker, their feeble flames drowning in the melted wax with the abigail's haste. It splashed on Sara's frock, and on the bare skin of her hand and forearm, as she tugged on Nell's sleeve, slowing her pace. It was too late, one candle expired, and then another, spreading the acrid odor of smoke and burnt tallow. Only one candle remained lit, and Sara jerked the girl to a standstill.

"Now look what you've done," she snapped, trying to steady the candle branch in Nell's trembling hand. "No! Don't tilt it! The tallow will extinguish the flame."

"Oh, my lady, it's goin' out!" the abigail shrilled.

"Be still!" Sara seethed. "Give it here!" Snatching it from her, she held it upright, a close eye on the fading wick. The candle was disappearing into a pool of wax in the socket.

There was precious little time left, and the passageway was unlit. "Why couldn't you have chosen a branch with fresher candles?" she scolded.

"They was fresh when we set out, my lady," the abigail defended.

"Never mind," said Sara. "Where are we? Which of these panels did we come through? They all look the same to me."

"This one, I think," said Nell. "No... that one there on the left. Oh, I dunno, my lady. I'm all mixed up!"

"Well, you'd best un-mix yourself posthaste, my girl. Dawn will shed no ray of light here, and this last candle is spent in seconds!"

Nothing would quiet the abigail. She was clearly struck with terror, whining and trembling-rooted to the spot. Another sound bled into the noise, stopping Sara's free hand in midair as she felt the damp wall for an exit from the passageway. A low, guttural growl behind them spun her around to face two shiny eyes glowing red-gold with reflected light from the candle before her motion snuffed it out. Nell screamed, and started to run. The last thing Sara saw was the flashing gleam of sharp fangs. The last thing she heard was the patter of the animal's feet, its long nails clacking on the flat stones underfoot, before she darted after the hysterical abigail, seized her arm and drove her through the panel she'd been searching for. It opened to the safety of one of the inner chambers, and swung shut behind them. Above Nell's shrieks, Sara could still hear the whines and growls on the other side, and the frantic scratching as if the animal were trying to dig its way through stone a foot thick.

She sagged against the wall. The candlestick lay somewhere on the other side, where she'd dropped it. It didn't matter. It couldn't help them now, with the candles all snuffed out.

"Will you stop that infernal caterwauling!" she snapped, giving Nell's arm a shake. "This is serious here. I have no idea how to get through to the other side. You brought me into this secret chamber. You have to collect your wits and get us out of this!"

"I... I can't see!" the girl wailed. "Tis black as sin in here. I'm afeared o' the dark, my lady."

"That is unfortunate," said Sara. "There is nothing in the dark to harm you, Nell. We've left the danger behind. And that's another thing. Never run from a threatening animal. Never show your fear. That poor dog is in pain. This is evidently his domain, and we have intruded upon it. Dogs can be very territorial, but Nero would never harm me. You, however, do not seem to share that distinction, since you say he snapped at you once already. He probably tastes your fear. He knows I do not fear him, and I mean him no ill."

"Then, why is he scratchin' and growlin' like that, my lady?" said Nell.

"I shan't presume to get inside the mind of a pain-crazed dog," Sara responded. "He is probably trying to get to me. I'm the only friend that poor animal has in this house. There isn't time to puzzle it out. Stop that sniveling! We have to get out of this maze of smugglers hideaways, and back to the house proper before we're missed."

Sara took off her shoe and set it on the floor against the panel they'd just come through. "Start feeling your way along the wall," she said. "Once we reach my slipper, we'll know we've come full circle. That way at least we will know where one exit is."

"That won't matter a whit ta me, my lady," snapped the abigail. "I ain't never goin' back inta that dog's domain again!"

"Then help me find the way back into the outer chamber," said Sara, nudging her along.

The room was sparsely furnished, though each time they bumped into a table, or settle, Nell's whimpers became outcries. Sara had long since given over trying to silence the girl. It wasn't until they reached the back of the armoire they'd come through earlier, and pushed through it into one of the legitimate chambers, that the abigail quieted. Light from the full moon flooded the room, and while Nell held the armoire panel open, Sara ran back for her shoe.

"Hurry, my lady!" Nell cried. "Just, please hurry."

Sara needed no prompting. It had grown late. All she could think of was getting back to her suite before one of the servants, or Nicholas himself, caught her out. Once safely inside, Sara's hand hesitated, hovering over the doorknob.

"You ain't thinkin' o' leaven that open, are ya, my lady?" Nell breathed. "Not after all o' this just now!"

"I am," said Sara, "and it's nothing to you, Nell." She glanced down at her frock. It was splotched and streaked with mildew and dust. Her hands and arms were likewise decorated, and she could only imagine the state of her face, and her hair, which was hanging on one side where it had come loose from its combs. "I know it's late, but I shall want a good soaking," she said. "Have the hip bath filled, and then you may retire. I shan't need you again tonight. I shall manage on my own. This frock will have to go straight into the dustbin. It's beyond saving."

"Beggin' your pardon, my lady," said Nell, pulling herself up to her full height, "but I won't be goin' back inta them passages again, no matter what ya say I owe ya. I'll give my notice first, or ya can sack me as ya like."

"I shan't need you to, now that I know my way," Sara returned.

The girl gasped. "Ya can't mean you're goin' back down there?" she cried.

"If needs must, but not tonight. The only place I intend to go now is into a nice hot bath, and then to bed."

Rose oil never smelled so sweet, and silkened water, fragrant with the woodsy aroma of rosemary, never felt as delightful as it did that night. Sara nearly dozed in the bath. She hated to leave it, and she didn't until the water began to grow cold around her. Nell had left a stack of towels on the chiffonier, and she dried herself, and towel-dried her hair, but when she turned to collect her nightdress and wrapper, it was to find that she had an audience. Nero was sitting in the doorway, his head cocked to the side, his long, pink tongue hanging down in a manner that almost made it seem as though he was smiling at her.

"Nero!" she gushed. Though she'd left the door ajar, this was the last thing she'd expected. He seemed docile now, but dared she trust that deceptive image? She took a cautious step closer. "Have you quieted down?" she crooned. "Yes, I see that you have." She braved another step nearer and he rose, wagging his long, bushy tail as he pranced in place.

Sara discarded the towel wrapped around her, and wriggled into her nightdress-a gauzy shift of butter-colored lawn, so fine it was almost transparent-and squatted down, stroking Nero's damp, shaggy coat.

"You've been outside, haven't you?" she said. "The sea air seems to have calmed you. You took another route back into the house proper, too. You know them all, don't you, boy?"

The animal whined and shook himself, nuzzling her hand, licking it with that soft, warm tongue.

She braved a look at his wound. Inching her fingers along his foreleg, she spread the fur and found it higher up.

"It is in your shoulder," she marveled. "Why, it's nearly-healed. This doesn't hurt you, does it? Then, what on earth was wrong with you before? Was it Nell? You don't like her, do you, Nero? I wonder why? Maybe you sense that she isn't all that fond of you." She surged to her feet. "Well, that's no excuse for being rude. You frightened her half out of her wits. You won't do that again, will you, boy?"

If a dog could look nonplussed, this one did. His expression extracted the closest thing to a giggle that had passed her lips in days, and she ruffled the thick fur about his neck.

"All right, play dumb," she said, "but I'd better not have a pitcher of water handy if you do it again. You need to learn some manners, boy-though I'm not surprised, considering the fine example your master sets for you."

She nudged him aside, and walked into her bedchamber. Nero padded after her, gazing at her in the oddest way before loosing the most mournful howl she had ever heard. It sent the fingers of a crawling chill along her spine and puckered her scalp with gooseflesh. All at once, he bolted and streaked into the sitting room, and out through the open foyer door.

Sara had had quite enough roaming about for one day, but she poked her head out into the corridor just the same to follow his direction with her eyes. To her amazement, he didn't head straight for the landing as he had in the past. Instead, he disappeared in the shadowy recesses of the green suite across the way.

Sara stared after him. What on earth was he doing in there? Should she investigate? It was only across the hall. She shifted from one bare foot to another, deliberating for several moments before throwing caution to the winds and venturing out into the deserted hallway. It was only a few short steps, and she entered the darkened chamber. She found herself in a well-appointed sitting room. Soft, diffuse light coming from the bedchamber beyond showed her that the room was empty, and she followed the shaft of moon-glow,, taking slow, measured steps.

"Nero?" she called. Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. Suppose Mallory were hiding there? She almost turned back at the thought, but it was too late for that. Instead, she crossed the bedchamber threshold only to pull up short at sight of Nicholas standing in the middle of the Oriental carpet. He was naked and aroused.

Chapter Twenty-one.

Sara gasped aloud. Nicholas stood rooted to the spot, his hypnotic obsidian stare riveted on her.

"N-Nero?" she stammered. "Where-"

"Gone," said Nicholas. "I chased him off."

"W-what are you doing here like... like that?" she said, stumbling over every word.

"Preparing for bed," he snapped, grabbing his shirt off the floor in a vain attempt to cover his nakedness.

"Here?" she said. "Why here? Why aren't you preparing for bed in your own suite?"

"Because I cannot keep an eye on you from my own suite," he pronounced.

"Oh!" Sara seethed in exasperation, slapping at her nightdress with a balled-up fist. She spun, making a dash for the door, but he threw down the shirt, reached her in two strides, and spun her toward him.

"You don't think you need watching?" he asked, close in her face. "Look at yourself! Wandering the halls half-naked in that nightdress. It's as transparent as a cobweb. You may as well be naked. What if you'd come upon Mallory?"

"You're a fine one to speak of going about naked, my lord!" she retorted, struggling in his arms. "You seem to be separated from your clothes again, yourself. And I wasn't wandering the halls. I merely stepped across the corridor because I saw Nero enter here. He had just left me, if you must know, and I wondered what he was up to. He hasn't been himself of late, and I'm concerned about him. It's a good thing, too, because no one else seems to be. Everyone wants to be rid of him-you want to shoot him. Don't dare deny it! I saw you, remember. Perhaps you've already disposed of the poor animal. Oh, my God, if you've harmed that dog-"

"What do you mean, he hasn't been himself?" Nicholas interrupted.

Sara's mouth dropped open. There he was, in the altogether, gripping her upper arms like a madman as though he hadn't the slightest notion that he was stark naked, and what had gotten his attention? Nero's peculiar behavior.

"Answer me, Sara!" he said, shaking her gently.

"Nicholas, please..." she murmured.

Steering her to a wing chair beside the unlit hearth, he sat her in it. "Don't move," he cautioned. Snatching his dressing gown from the bed, he shrugged it on with rough hands. It was too late. She'd already seen what lay beneath-the broad shoulders, the lightly furred chest, the narrow waist, and well-muscled thighs, the magnificence of his sex. His body was burned into her memory, just as his scent was. Every instinct urged her to vault out of that chair and run, but she could not-would not. Her body was on fire for him.

"How is Nero... different?" he persisted, standing over her, arms akimbo, his broad chest heaving.

"For the most part he's been playful and loving," she said. "There's no question that he's protective of me. It's just since he was shot that there seems to be a change."

"What kind of change?"