He tightened the belt of his robe, drawing it closer over his erection. "There will be time for that tomorrow," he whispered. Tomorrow, and for a long time to come. He wouldn't make the mistakes with Emily he made with Valentina. He wasn't a foolish, callow youth now, even if it felt like it with his l.u.s.t raging inside him as he stared down at her beautiful face, the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s under the gown.

Their marriage had not begun well, and it was still on unsteady ground. Maybe it would never be the love match he had had with Valentina, that his siblings had with their spouses. Maybe he had made a mistake in marrying her. But at least there was one area in which they were compatible, and it was a start.

He gently kissed her brow, smiling as she murmured in her sleep and burrowed deeper under the blankets. "Sleep well in your new home, Emily," he muttered. He tucked the bedclothes closer around her and silently left the room.

But that unruly desire wouldn't abate so easily, no matter how fiercely he wrestled it down. He feared she was making him feel again, for the first time in a very long while.

Chapter Sixteen.

"Hold it at a slight angle, like this." Nicholas's arms came around her, his hands lightly adjusting hers on the wooden curve of the bow she held. Though his touch was soft, strictly practical, Emily could feel it all the way to the very core of her. Whenever he touched her now, she felt so shy and yet so bold at the same time, even if it was just the brush of his hand as he pa.s.sed her the marmalade at breakfast that morning or helped her try to launch an arrow straight now.

It made her feel terrified-and hopeful. Their marriage seemed to have begun rather well, all things considered. Surely it could go on like this? Maybe even grow better and better?

But she had found that whenever she allowed herself to hope something might change in her life, she was left disappointed. She couldn't bear it if that happened now, with something as important as her marriage.

And she couldn't help but remember waking up alone in her new bed this morning.

She forced away the cold memory of that confusing moment, the instant where she drifted between dreams and waking and couldn't remember where she was, and focused on the cool, sleek bow in her hand. When Nicholas had offered to teach her some archery this morning, she was quite sure it would not end well. The welter of scattered arrows on the gra.s.s, far short of the target, proved her fears right. Yet she wanted to spend this time with Nicholas, show him how hard she was willing to work.

If only the feel of his soft breath on the back of her neck would cease distracting her!

"You're tensing your fingers again," he said gently. "Just relax, like so. Grip the bowstring lightly, about here." He slid her fingers into place, covering them with his own. "Draw back in one smooth, slow movement and-release."

Emily pulled back on the string as far as she could, trying to keep her focus on the target, and let go. The arrow flew straighter than the others, its green-feathered end iridescent in the sunlight, and landed in the target. Still far from the red centre, of course, but definitely in the target and not on the ground.

"I did it!" Emily cried. She dropped the bow to the gra.s.s and clapped her hands in joy. "Look, Nicholas, it's in the target!"

"So you did," he said, an unmistakable note of pride in his voice. "And on your very first try."

"It was my eighth try. But it's lovely of you to ignore that." Without thinking, she spun around and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek over and over, making him laugh. Every moment with him made her feel more confident, more sure of herself and what she could do as a d.u.c.h.ess. "Next time I will hit the bull's-eye itself. And maybe you could teach me to row on the lake, too?"

"One thing at a time," he said. "Maybe some tea now?"

Emily glanced over his shoulder to see some of the servants setting up gleaming silver trays on the shady terrace. They were absolutely polite and professional, but she saw two of the maids smile at their employers' antics.

Emily quickly stepped back from him and smoothed the skirt of her new yellow-muslin gown. "A little refreshment does sound welcome."

She scooped up the bow from the gra.s.s and took Nicholas's offered arm as he led her to the waiting terrace. Cushioned chairs were set up companionably around the damask-draped table, laid out with tiered trays of sandwiches and cakes, along with a delicate Italian porcelain teapot and cups and a crystal pitcher of lemonade. The servants at Welbourne were obviously very thorough.

"Do they always have so much food for two people?" Emily said with a laugh. "Last night could have been a banquet for Henry VIII."

"I don't think Signor Napoli and his staff are quite used to only serving two. Usually when anyone is in residence at Welbourne there's a vast crowd to follow, sometimes at a moment's notice. I suppose they wanted to be prepared."

"It must seem terribly quiet to them now, and to you." Emily poured out the dark, steaming India tea, adding lemon to his as she remembered he liked. "Perhaps you would rather have a party come to join us?"

"And ruin the rare luxury of quiet? Not at all. Unless you are feeling lonely."

Emily took a long sip of her tea. "I am almost never lonely," she said, not quite truthfully. She was often lonely, but that merely seemed the way of things.

She stared out over the rolling lawns of Welbourne, all fresh green and glistening under the sun. They sloped all the way down to the lake, with its tree-lined sh.o.r.e, docks and the little white summer house. Swans glided placidly on those waters, while sheep grazed on the fields nearby.

She hadn't noticed all that perfect loveliness last summer, it had been so crowded with people. Now she saw its true beauty.

"I see why you like it here so much," she said. "I've never seen such a peaceful, pretty place. I'm surprised you and your family aren't here all the time."

"We would be if we could. It's our favourite place- the only place where we can really be ourselves."

"I haven't noticed any of you behaving with particular inhibition anywhere else," she said teasingly.

Nicholas laughed. "No, we don't often curb our emotions. But here no one judges us for them, or talks about our parents behind our backs. Here we can pursue our own pa.s.sions without hindrance. Not that I have any creativity myself."

"Nor do I. I cannot even embroider or net a bag like my sister-in-law Amy. But you are very good at archery. That surely takes a great measure of creative visualisation."

He leaned back in his chair, watching her curiously. "How so?"

"You must picture the arrow flying straight on its course and landing in the target. Something I have yet to master."

"It's my sister Charlotte who is the true archer. That's her bow you are using. Our father had it made especially for her."

"Oh." Emily glanced down at the bow, only just noticing the small C.F. burned into the wood and gilded. "I hope she will not mind that I borrowed it."

"Not at all. She'd be glad to share our father's gift." Nicholas took another drink of his tea, staring thoughtfully over the lawn. "My father didn't have much time to spend with us, he was always so busy with his duties and later with..."

With his mistress? "Personal duties?"

Nicholas smiled ruefully. "Something like that. But the time he did have for us we loved so much. My father was a man of such boundless energy and enthusiasm, so much younger than his years. He always entered into our games with gusto, teaching us archery and riding, how to swim. Every day felt like a holiday when he was with us."

"And your mother? Did she play games with you, too?"

Nicholas shook his head, a frown flickering over his face. "My mother was always of a rather melancholy disposition. She tired easily, and the sunlight pained her head. But when my brother Stephen and I were young she would often read to us and tell us tales."

"What sort of tales?" Emily asked.

"Oh, mythology mostly. She did love old stories of knights and their damsels fair, beset by dragons and evil magicians, contending against spells and fighting great battles. I think that may be where my brother gets some of his more interesting notions."

Emily rubbed her little gold horseshoe pendant between her fingers. "What happened to her-later?"

"After my father met Lady Linwall, you mean? She was very unhappy. Her whole life had been her position as the d.u.c.h.ess of Manning, her whole reason for being to uphold the family's position and reputation. My father's other mistresses were nothing, opera dancers and milliners, liaisons that were quick and discreet and did nothing to hurt the facade of the family. But Katherine-Lady Linwall..."

Emily swallowed hard, her throat tight. "He loved her."

"Yes, in an overwhelming way no one could ever have predicted, least of all my father. She was so vivid, so full of life and laughter, and she loved him just as much. They were like a force of nature, a blizzard or an earthquake, that could not be denied. My mother retreated to her own estate at Fincote Park, which Stephen now owns, and never went into society again. The shame made her too ill."

Emily stared out over the gardens again, those verdant lawns and bright waters that sparkled so brilliantly. But there seemed to be a faint grey cloud pa.s.sing over it all. There seemed to be a hard lesson for her in that sad tale-duty and hard work were not always enough.

She looked over at Nicholas, who also stared off at the lake with a shadowed look in his eyes. A bar of light fell over his golden hair, turning it to molten sunshine, and he rubbed a hand over his jaw. How would it feel if she lost him? Lost him to some glittering, glamorous lady who was all she could not be? Someone like his lost Valentina?

Which was ridiculous, of course. He was not hers to lose. Still, the imagining was painful.

"What of your own parents?" he asked suddenly, sitting back in his chair.

"My parents?"

"What were they like when you were young? I have talked quite enough about myself today; now it's your turn."

Emily had to laugh. "My parents are not quite as interesting as yours. My mother likes to go out in society and to talk a great deal. My father likes to be quiet and read. He is usually in his library and she's in the drawing room, and they seem quite happy. My brother and I held not much interest for them when we were small, I think. We stayed in the nursery, but we often devised our own games there together. It's rather strange."

"Strange?"

"I had quite forgotten how much time Rob and I spent together then. We hardly see each other now he is so busy with his new career and with Amy."

"It's amazing how lonely one can be, in the midst of a family," Nicholas said.

Emily glanced at him in sharp surprise. "Surely not in your family, Nicholas! They wouldn't have the time to be lonely."

He gave her a strange smile. "Have you ever been to a party, where you thought you were having fun, and suddenly you just wanted to go home? Or at least go somewhere where you can really be seen, as yourself?"

"All the time," Emily said.

"Then you know. Even surrounded by people, people you love, it can be lonely. A duke is seldom alone, but he's also seldom a real part of other people."

"Yes, I see." And she did-and her heart ached for him, for all he was giving her the privilege of seeing now. She had thought she could help him by being perfect in her duty. But maybe they could help each other most by just sitting and listening. Learning each other so they need never be alone in a crowd again.

Was that even possible?

"Have you ever met someone like that? Someone who could see you?" she asked.

"My siblings, sometimes. And once-well, once there was a person. But that was a long time ago, when I was too young to appreciate what such an understanding was."

A woman, someone besides Valentina? Surely it must have been. But Nicholas said nothing else about it. Emily gathered all her courage and held out her hand to him. He took it in his, just holding it as they sat in silence.

Emily didn't know how it could be, after all they had done to each other's naked bodies in the bedchamber, but just sitting there holding hands with him felt like the most intimate thing she had ever done in her life. It felt just exactly right.

Chapter Seventeen.

"Come along, I want to show you something!" Nicholas tugged Emily by the hand along a narrow, winding pathway that led around the furthest end of the lake. It was cool and shady here, a mossy shelter against the suddenly warm day, and the air smelled of sunlight and wildflowers.

Emily laughed. They had been at Welbourne only a fortnight, and yet she felt transformed. She had never had such a sense of being free and unbound before, untethered from the etiquette and cares of the earth and floating above it all as if in one of those terrifying hot air balloons.

Was it this place? Did Welbourne truly have some magic built into its stones? Or was it Nicholas, and the time they had spent together, alone? They did nothing extraordinary, just ate meals, played cards, read together. He taught her chess, or tried to, and over the carved board they told stories of their childhoods or tales they had heard of acquaintances in London. They made love at night, throwing aside all inhibitions in each other's arms-and he left her before dawn.

The one thing they never spoke of was the future, plans and hopes for it, what would happen when they left the coc.o.o.n of Welbourne.

Maybe that was why the days felt so enchanted. They weren't part of the real world at all.

And now she was traipsing about outdoors with Nicholas, clad only in a simple white-muslin round gown with her hair loose over her shoulders like a girl. What was more, she did not even feel in the least bit self-conscious about it. She hadn't had such moments since she was a child, back when she could run free with no worry of how she looked and what everyone was thinking of her.

Now she only cared what Nicholas thought. He was so much kinder than she had ever expected, more thoughtful. He took his tasks so seriously, showing her plans for new tenants' cottages on his estate and ideas for new, experimental crops, new breeds of sheep and ideas for irrigation techniques. When Emily tentatively suggested a school for the daughters of his servants and farmers, he had not dismissed her, but asked her questions about possible plans.

It was all a much better beginning than she could have hoped for.

Nicholas grinned at her over his shoulder. "Not far now."

Emily laughed. The path had taken a turn and spiralled downwards, toward a small hidden pool of the lake. It was cooler here, the tall trees growing close together for dense shade. There was even a small waterfall, a steely, musical flow of blue-grey water dancing over craggy rocks into the pool below.

"Where are you taking me?" Emily said. "To lock me away in some hidden grotto behind the waterfall?"

"I really should. Then no one could ever look at you but me! I would be the dark magician in one of my mother's old fairy tales, kidnapping the princess and holding her for my own pleasure alone."

She laughed even harder. "I think my nanny also told such a tale when I was a child. It did not end well, either for the princess or the magician."

"This tale would. We would just hide there, you and me, and no one could find us and interrupt us with messages and quarrels and dull things like that. We could sing and weave daisy chains, and lie in the sun all day long."

"You have never heard me sing, Nicholas, or you would not suggest such a thing," Emily warned. "My brother says I sound like a scalded cat."

"And I am sure he can't be correct." He took her other hand, holding them both tightly. "There's moss here on these rocks, it gets a bit slippery."

"What is this place?" she asked quietly. As the trees closed in around them, she felt like she should whisper, as if woodland creatures listened to them. The air was cool, filled with the rich scent of green leaves, the flowers under her feet, and sun on water.

"When we were children, we rather uncreatively called it the Hidden Pool. No one ever came here but us, it's too small for rowing and not much good for fishing. We thought no one knew about it but us."

"And what did you do here?"

"Swim. Dive from the waterfall. Found frogs to hide in the house. Mostly we lay around in the gra.s.s and talked about what we would do when we grew up."

He came to a flat, low boulder near a bent, leafy tree. He spread the coat he had carried over his shoulder across its mossy surface and helped her sit down there. He propped his booted foot beside her, his elbow braced on his knee as he stared out at the swirling water.

"What did you want to do when you were grown?" she asked.

"I always knew I had no choice. Except for a brief plan concocted when I was nine, to run away to sea and fake my own death so poor Stephen would have to be duke, I had to be resigned to it. Stephen and Leo always wanted to work with horses-or be acrobats at Astley's. Annalise decided she would be one of the few females admitted to the Royal Academy, and she seems well on her way to that. Charlotte just wanted to write novels and plays, and raise dogs. One of which will soon be ours, alas."

"Unless we can devise a way out of it. That run-away-to-sea plan sounds quite good," Emily said, trying to match his lighthearted tone. Inside, though, she felt quite sad for the boy whose siblings could dream of being whatever they liked, while his life was sealed. "It can be so difficult to have no choices."