When he spoke again, although it was softly, both women jumped. He looked at Emily. "I thought you might be interested in a bit of news I heard just before I left London." He waited and waited, and waited some more. They sat, stirring their stew.

Finally, Jane could no longer stand the suspense. Looking at her bowl, she said, "What is the news?"

"Frederick Morris is dead." Jane's head snapped up, her eyes locked on his. Emily's remained fixed on her bowl. For the first time during the meal, she'd stopped her incessant stirring. Her body was completely rigid.

"What happened to him?" Jane asked.

"He was murdered. Shot through the heart in his own bed in the middle of the night."

"I'm so glad," Emily whispered softly.

"Do they know who did it?"

"No, but 'tis rumored that he finally crossed the wrong man, the wrong family." Phillip's gaze bore into Jane's, daring her to make the connection, to realize what he had done, to understand the depth of his rage over what had happened. "He'll hurt no one ever again."

Jane watched him intensely. From the unruffled certainty in his eyes, she was sure he'd killed Morris himself. In another time of her life, she might have been shocked. Not now. Many was the night she'd lain awake in the lonely darkness regretting the fact that she'd not taken gun in hand herself. Whatever had happened to the despicable creature was exactly what he deserved, and if his death had been at Phillip's hand, so much the better.

"That is the very best news I've heard in a long, long time." Certain Emily wasn't looking, she mouthed, "Thank you."

Phillip nodded an acceptance.

Emily shifted, cleared her throat. Still looking down at her food, she said, "Jane, I'm frightfully tired all of a sudden. Would you mind if I skipped the dishes this evening?"

"No, dear, why don't you run along to bed?"

"Will you be coming shortly?"

"Yes. As soon as I've straightened up a bit." The girl nodded, then stood. Although she tried to appear calm. she was shaking. "Say good night to your father," Jane urged.

"Good night," Emily murmured without looking at him.

Jane and Phillip sat in silence, listening as she crossed the front room and headed up the stairs. The sounds she made were magnified in the small house, and they waited while she walked around overhead, readying herself for bed.

Phillip looked at Jane. "She's terribly changed."

Jane shrugged. "She's much better than she was." She started removing dishes from the table, taking them to the counter where washing water she'd already heated awaited.

"May I help you?"

"No, thank you. This will only take a moment." She could feel Phillip's eyes on her back, watching her every move, every twitch of muscle, every shift of position. Just as during the meal, the tension grew and grew until she wanted to shriek at him. Finally, she finished with the last piece of washing and set it aside.

When she turned to face him, her features were a mask of composure while her insides were churning with nerves. "If you'd like to wash, there's some extra hot water in that basin. I'll bank the fire and put out the lamps." She set a candle on the table. "This should see you upstairs."

"Where is our room?"

Jane nearly sputtered at his audacity. The idea! 'Your room is on the left at the top of the stairs."

"Where will you be?"

"Across the hall with Emily."

"No, not tonight. Tonight, you'll sleep with me."

The facade she'd tried so desperately to maintain shattered with a resounding crash. If this man thought he could walk back into her life and begin marital relations as though nothing had happened, he had to be crazy. "I will sleep with Emily as I always do," she spit out at him. "She is afraid of the dark and afraid to be alone."

"I'm sorry, Jane, but I'm afraid you won't be able to change my mind."

"Why you wretched cad!" She waved an angry fist. "How dare you come in here and think you can ... you can ..." Just then, the babe took the opportunity to kick hard. She'd grown so big of late that the force of her blows was occasionally wicked to endure. This jab landed hard against a rib, and Jane groaned and bent over.

Phillip was instantly by her side. "What is it? The babe?"

She pressed a hand against her stomach. "No .. . y-yes," she stuttered. "She just kicked me."

He took her hand and helped her to the chair. "Calm yourself for a moment. Take a deep breath." He watched her relax. "That's better," he assured her and himself when she managed to take a breath again. Gen-dy, he rested his palm against her abdomen and was rewarded with a hearty kick of his own. His eyes widened like saucers. "Is that the babe?"

"Yes." Because his touch felt welcome and familiar, Jane didnat want him so close, but he looked so awestruck that she couldn't refuse to let him feel his child moving about. She reached for his wrist and shifted his hand further to the side. "And here, too."

"Why, it feels like a foot The pad of a little, tiny foot"

"I think she's tired of being cramped up inside. She's ready to come out."

As if in agreement, the babe gave another strong kick, and Phillip chuckled. "She's going to be a feisty one, isn't she?"

For long minutes, they sat in a suspended silence as Phillip marveled at the movements going on inside Jane's belly. Eventually, the babe quieted, and he raised his eyes to his wife's, wishing he could see through them to the thoughts racing inside her head.

"I've missed you," he whispered, then gave in to temptation and leaned forward over the few inches that separated them.

Jane was mesmerized by his gaze, by his closeness, by his presence. By the heat of his hand and the smell of his skin. Even after all that had happened, after all he had done, he still remained so familiar, so loved, so cherished. At the last moment, just a split second before his lips brushed hers, she turned her head. "No. I can't."

"Yes, you can," he insisted, as he settled for nuzzling against her cheek and brow. "I've missed you. I know you've missed me, too."

"No, no . . ." She pushed back the chair. "No, you're wrong. I haven't missed you for a second." She stood and walked to the kitchen door, vasdy relieved that he didnat try to stop her. Afraid of the look she'd see in his eyes, she didnat turn around. "I'm going to bed. With Emily," she added, in case he was still intending anything else.

"Get her settled in sleep, and then come to me. I'll be waiting."

"I won't come." She fled the room and lumbered for the safety of the stairs.

Emily appeared asleep when Jane crawled in beside her. She looked so young but, at the same time, so old. Jane longed to lean over and kiss her forehead, but didnat. The touch wouldn't be welcomed. Instead, she shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position which was nearly impossible in her swollen condition.

In a sleepy voice, Emily murmured, "I'm so glad Morris is dead."

"So am I."

"Things will be much better now; I just know it."

"I believe you."

"I don't need to be so afraid anymore."

"I'm glad."

Emily yawned and was silent for the longest time. Just as Jane thought she'd drifted off, she asked, "Do you think Father killed him?"

"I don't know."

"I hope so."

So do I, Jane thought to herself, but she didnat think it would be appropriate to say such a thing to Emily.

"Can Father make us go home?"

"Don't worry about it now. Try to get some rest."

Jane stared at the ceiling, listening to Emily as her breathing slowed and steadied. She had no idea what might happen. Phillip was her husband and Emily's father, which gave him the right to do anything he wished to either one of them. They had no right to refuse any of his commands, and if he ordered them home and Jane refused to go, he could take the babe and Emily and leave without her. He could divorce her, leave her alone in a world where she'd never see her children again. A horrid universe swirled unchecked through her head, and due to her emotional state, tears sprang to her eyes as she imagined every possible, terrible thing Phillip could do to them.

She could hear every sound he made as he washed, as he headed up the stairs, disrobed, laid down. He was probably lying there much as she was, only he'd be smug and confident that he'd have his way in the end. The longer she thought about him and his high-handed manner, the angrier she grew, until her sadness of a few minutes earlier was completely washed away by clean, burning fury.

How dare he disrupt their lives this way!

She threw back the covers and tiptoed across the hall, no small feat in her condition. The arrogant rogue was sitting up with the pillows propped behind, naked to the waist, casually leafing through the pages of a book she'd left on the night table. On hearing her enter, he tossed the book aside. With one hand, he reached out to her. With the other, he held back the covers.

Knowing he always slept in the nude, Jane panicked. The last thing she needed was to see him in the altogether. "Let's get one thing straight right now: I am not sleeping with you."

Phillip was making every effort to appear composed and relaxed while on the inside his nerves were humming. Waiting to see if she'd come had been torture. "Yes, you are. Tonight and every night of our lives from now on. I don't intend to sleep apart ever again." He gestured to the spot next to him on the bed. "I'm getting chilled holding the covers like this. Come."

He expected her to instantly comply! She had to swallow twice before she could clear enough of the outrage from her throat to be able to speak. "You despicable wretch. Of all the rude, insensitive, foul, demeaninga""

As though he hadn't a care in the world, he leaned back against the headboard and laced his fingers behind his head. "I see you're upset. Why don't you tell me all about it, so we can move on to more enjoyable things?"

"Tell you all about it?" she sputtered. His casual attitude only served to further inflame her. She felt like stamping her foot and screaming, but she refused to give him the pleasure of seeing her so out of control. "Oh, I'll tell you about it, all right. You stroll in here, complaining about the life we've built for ourselves, ordering us to feed you and house you, ordering us back to London, ordering me to your bed. Well, I won't stand for it, I tell you. I won't!"

"What would you have me do, Jane? Leave the three of you here to fend for yourselves? I've been frantic with worry, imagining the worst. I can't believe you'd do such a foolish thing as run away, and now that I've found you again, I've no intention of ever letting you out of my sight. You're coming home with me. You're coming back to my bed. You might as well prepare yourself for the inevitable. Your attitude will go a long way toward helping Emily make the adjustment."

Since Jane had never thought Phillip would search for them or, if he did that he'd never actually look hard enough to find them, she'd never let her mind wander to this point in time. Of course, he'd insist they come back. What other option di he have but demanding their compliance?

Defeated, she let her shoulders sag and blindly groped for the chair, sank into it. The months of worrya"worry about Emily, their financial state, the babe, Phillipa" finally took their toll. She started to cry silent tears and buried her head in her hands. "What do you want from me, Phillip?"

"I want to sleep with you by my side."

He moved off the bed and knelt in front of her. Taking her wrists, he pulled her hands away from her face. His tough, tenacious, beautiful fighter was finally reduced to tears. "Look at me, Jane."

"No." She tried to hide her face, embarrassed to have him see her in such a state.

He cupped her cheek in his palm so she couldn't look away. She looked so lovely, so miserable. "Are your memories of our loving so horrible that you can no longer bear the thought of sharing my bed?"

"No, I always thought it was special, wonderful. Magnificent. But it didnat mean anything to you. Are you such an animal that you must rut with every woman you see?" She gestured around the room as though it were filled with women. "Fine, then. Go find another. I'm sure there are girls at the tavern in the village. Any one of them would be happy to service the great Earl of Rosewood."

"I don't want a tavern girl. I don't want anyone. I want you and no other."

"Stop it, Phillip, please. This is killing me,"

"Jane, there's been no other woman in my bed since I walked through the doors at Rosewood last summer. There's been only you."

She groaned, rubbing her hand over her heart as though it were breaking all over again. "Don't lie to me. It only makes things so much worse between us."

"I'm not lying to you, Jane."

"Are you saying that all these months you've been in London, you've been . . . been . . ."Jane couldn't find the word she was seeking.

"Celibate? Yes, I have been."

Her mouth dropped in shock. "What about Margaret?"

"Margaret means nothing to me. I hadn't seen her for months before the Duke's party, and I've not seen her since."

"How can I believe you?"

Phillip shifted his hands so he was holding both of hers in his own. "Jane, listen to me. I swear to you that I went to Margaret's rooms that night with an innocent heart" He waved a dismissive hand. "It started harmlessly enougha"on my part, anyway. She approached me in the ballroom, and I didnat want others to see us talking, so I followed her to have a private talk, to tell her it was over between us. Over for good."

' 'You have a funny way of showing a woman it's over.''

"When I got there, she was undressed and intent on resuming our affair. I never even considered it. Not for a moment."

"But I saw you kissing her. I saw the two of youa""

"I know what you saw, but it wasn't real. I told her we couldn't go on, because I didnat want to hurt you. She refused to believe I'd set her aside, and she threw herself into my arms. More than once. It was a dreadful scene. You saw part of that when you walked in. I thought on it later and decided perhaps she saw you entering. I wouldn't put anything past her." He reached for her shoulders, squeezed tightly. "But it wasn't what you thought you saw. I swear it."

He seemed so sincere, so upset. "I don't know, Phillip. I'm so confused."

"Then let me tell you what I told Margaret about you that night that put her in such a state: I love you, Jane. I love you so much. I was going to leave her room and come straight to ours to tell you. You're my life! I can't go on if you don't forgive me. Please say that you do." He reached around her waist and rested his head against her swollen bosom. "Please, I can't go on like this. Tell me you forgive me."

At the string of heart-wrenching declarations, Jane was unable to keep from wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She pulled him close, letting him snuggle while she comforted him by running her fingers through his hair and down his back. Many things were still unresolved, many things still uncertain, but one fact remained true and overriding: Phillip loved her. There was no way he'd have spoken the words if he hadn't meant them. While he might not be the perfect husband, and while he certainly had human faults, he loved her.

Knowing that, there was only one thing to do. She gave a resigned sigh. "You must promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Promise me that you'll never see Margaret again."

"Never. Never again."

"And that you'll never take another to your bed. I've found I can't bear the heartbreak of even thinking about such an event. Swear it to me."

"That's easy." He pulled back so he could look her in the eye. Taking both her hands in his once again, he vowed, "On bended knee before you, I swear that I shall always be your true and faithful husband. You have my word on it.'

"Then I forgive you."

"Truly?"