"Anthony, be serious just for once!" she pleaded in exasperation.

"My dear, I've never been more serious in my life. How can I make love to another woman when you're the only woman I want? It can't be done, you know. Desire isn't just called forth at will. Or hadn't you thought of that?"

She was looking at him with confusion and a touch of wonder, only these expressions quickly turned to a frown and a tightening of her lips. "But that doesn't mean you'll no' see someone eventually that you'll be liking."

Anthony sighed wearily. "If that day comes, I swear to you, Roslynn, it won't matter in the least. I'll have only to imagine you, here like this, and be a contented man."

She made a sound that was very nearly a snort. "Very prettily said. I give you that. But you're forgetting

you dinna love me."

He tossed her back onto the bed and quickly covered her body with his own. "Then let us examine what I do feel, shall we?" His voice purred, but it was obvious he had lost patience with her. "There's lust, in abundance. It's been bloody hell keeping my hands off you until now. There's possessiveness, which I've only recently discovered. There's jealousy, which I've known about for weeks." His brow rose sharply as her eyes rounded. "Don't tell me I've actually surprised you, my dear."

"You were jealous? Of who?"

"Bloody well everyone, even my blasted brother. And you may as well know, while we're at it, that the gentlemen you were considering for marriage were all immensely suitable, with the exception of Fleming, who really is a queer fellow. It was all lies, Roslynn, because I couldn't stand the thought of any of them having you."

He was holding her down now, because he fully expected her to become violent after this particular confession. But Roslynn was perfectly still, rage at what he'd done overshadowed by utter amazement.

"Then you must… care a little?" Her question was whisper-soft, hesitant.

"Bloody hell!" he finally exploded. "Would I have married you if I didn't?"

Not the least bit intimidated, she reminded him, "You married me to help me out of a horrid situation, which I'm grateful for."

Anthony closed his eyes for a moment, pleading for self-control. When he opened them, there was a hard gleam there. But his voice was moderate, if a touch arrogant.

"My dear, if I had only wanted to help you out, as you put it, I could have hurried your bothersome cousin to an early demise with little difficulty. But I wanted you for myself, it's that simple." Here his tone changed, became stern. "And if you tell me once more to enjoy other women when I'll be bloody damned if I will, I'll play the archaic husband for you and thrash you soundly. Have I made myself clear?

There will be no other women, not now, not ever!"

He waited for her temper to snap again. He got a smile instead, a very beautiful one that reached her eyes, brightening the golden flecks there.

Anthony didn't know what to make of this sudden change, until she said, "Dinna you mention earlier doing something at a more leisurely pace? I was suppose to judge—"

His laughter cut her off, deep and exultant. "Never change, sweetheart. I wouldn't have you any other way.''

And he proceeded to have her his way, with her full and delighted cooperation.

Chapter Twenty-three

"Och, now, what is this? Sitting there grinning at yerself, are ye?"

Roslynn turned the hand-held mirror slightly and caught Nettie's image reflected behind her. Her grin widened, and her eyes, already sparkling, tried for a look of innocence as she swung around on the stool.

"Was I grinning? I can't imagine why."

Nettie snorted, but her lips were twitching at the corners too. "Pleased wi' yerself, ain't ye?"

Roslynn gave up the pretense. "Yes! Oh, Nettie, I never thought I could be this happy!"

"Aye, it's nae wonder. That's a bonny-looking mon ye caught. But did ye have tae be keeping him such a secret?"

"There was no secret. He wasn't really under consideration, Nettie. His asking to marry me was as much a surprise to me as to anyone."

"Well, now, as long as yer happy wi' him, that's all I could be asking, and sae much more than I was expecting, wi' all the haste. It doesna even matter that this house is sae Spartan and the servants boorish snobs."

Roslynn chuckled. "You've met Dobson, I take it?"

"Aye, that lout. What a cold one. But it's nae wonder he's sae snooty, him being in charge of all the servants here. There's nae housekeeper, nae other women servants a-tall, just two maids who come in several times a week tae clean. Even the cook's a mon, and there's another uppity one fer ye."

"I see you have a few complaints, Nettie. But don't take it so to heart. You're forgetting this was a bachelor residence until now. I'm sure Anthony won't object if we make some changes. There's new furnishings to buy." At this she glanced about her new bedroom, envisioning putting her touch to it. "New servants to hire. We'll be busy in the next few weeks, you can be sure."

"Now dinna be going off on a spending spree on my account. And remember ye've a husband now tae be asking afore ye go spending his money. The creatures are particular about such things as that."

"Don't be such a worrier, Nettie. I'm not going to usehismoney when I've so much of my own."

"Ye better talk that over wi' him first, lassie. A mon's funny about wanting tae pay his wife's bills, ye know? Yer trouble is, ye've been doing fer yerself too long, even afore Duncan, bless him, passed on.

But yer married now. Ye've got tae make allowances and do things a might differently if ye want tae be keeping the peace atween ye." A knock sounded on the door just then, and Nettie explained. "That'll be yer bath water. Are ye in a hurry tae be joining yer mon fer lunch, or have ye time—"

"There's plenty of time, Nettie. Anthony went out, I believe." Roslynn blushed here. "I was still half asleep when he told me. But he mentioned something about his daily ride and attending to a few things. I don't expect him back before dinner, however, so I can spend the day acquainting myself with the house and servants. And I really must send a note off to Frances to let her know what's happened." After getting so little sleep last night, Roslynn thought those were enough priorities for one day.

An hour later, wearing a cool muslin dress of yellow-and-rose spring flowers on a beige background, Roslynn left Anthony's room,theirroom now, and started down the short hallway. She had seen next to nothing of his home the last time she was here, nor last night either, but that would soon be corrected.

She would need Dobson's help, though. Since there were other Malorys in residence, she couldn't just open doors indiscriminately.

She spared a moment's thought for the other two occupants of the house, Anthony's brother and son.

She wondered if her husband would now admit that Jeremy Malory was his son. There was no reason for him to still deny it, at least not to her. He was a handsome lad, a boy to be proud of, and the image of his father. Actually, it was ludicrous for Anthony to deny patrimony when anyone merely had to look at Jeremy to know who sired him.

She would need to make friends with the lad, but she could foresee no difficulty there. James Malory was another matter. There was no reason to get too friendly with him, and every reason not to. Should she tell Anthony about James having kissed her once? Or maybe he already knew. Hehadsaid he had been jealous of his brother.

She smiled, remembering their crazy conversation last night. She didn't know how he had done it, but she had let him convince her he was going to make a wonderful husband. All of her long-standing, preconceived notions about rakes were put to rest. He was going to be faithful. She felt it, believed it now wholeheartedly, and was ecstatic about it. What more could she have asked for than to have Anthony Malory all to herseif? His love, she reminded herself. But that would come. It would. It had to.

"Hell's bells, what areyoudoing here?"

Roslynn paused at the top of the stairs. Jeremy Malory, on his way up, stopped dead in his tracks too, his mouth left open in an O of wonder after he had got his question out. The imp in Roslynn decided to be mischievous, since it was obvious he hadn't heard of the marriage yet.

"I spent the night, don't you know."

"Spent the night?" he repeated.

"Yes, and I'm thinking of moving in."

"But—but there's only bachelors here!"

"But there's lots of room, don't you think? And this house could use a woman's touch."

"It could?" he said in bemusement, only to shake his head. "But it wouldn't be proper, would it? I mean, you're a lady—I mean, well, you know what I mean. It just wouldn't be proper."

"No?" Roslynn grinned. "Then I'll have to speak with your father. He's the one insisting I stay."

"Hedid?" Jeremy nearly choked. "Hell's bells, he's gone and done it now! Uncle Tony's going to fly through the roof. He had his eye on you himself. Hell's bells, he'll probably throw us out now."

"Jeremy," she began gently, giving up the game. She hadn't thought he would be this upset. "There's no need to keep up the pretense. I know Anthony is your father. And I'm sorry I teased you like that. The reason I'm staying is because I married your father yesterday. He really should have told you."

His mouth dropped open again, but this time he was quicker to recover. "My father, meaning—Anthony? You married Anthony Malory?"

"You don't have to soundthatsurprised."

"But… I don't believe it. Tony getting married? He wouldn't."

"And why not, I'd like to be knowing?"

"He just wouldn't. He's a confirmed bachelor. He's got all the women he could want chasing after him.

What would he need a wife—"

"Careful, laddie," Roslynn warned stiffly. "You're getting very close to insulting me."

Color flamed his cheeks. "I—I beg your pardon, Lady Chadwick. Truly, I meant no offense."

"It's Lady Malory now, Jeremy," she said, holding up her hand in front of him and tapping her wedding ring. "It happened last evening at Silverley, with your cousin Regina as witness. So you might as well believe it, laddie. I've no reason to lie about it, and you can ask your father as soon as he comes home."

"My father was there too?"

Roslynn sighed. "How could he not be at his own wedding?"

"No, I meant James. Heismy father, you know. He really is."

It was Roslynn's turn to be surprised, because Jeremy was too earnest to be lying about it now. "But you look so much like Anthony!"

"I know." He grinned. "But so does Reggie, and so does Amy, Uncle Edward's daughter. And my aunt Melissa, Reggie's mother, did too, though I never met her. She died when Reggie was still a baby. All the rest of the Malorys are blonds. It's just us five who took after my great-grandmother Malory.''

"I can see I've a lot to learn about this family, there's so many of you."

"Then he really married you? He really did?"

"Yes, Jeremy, he really did." She grinned, coming down a few steps to lock arms with him. "Come along and I'll tell you all about it. James—your father—was here last night when Anthony carried me over the threshold, you know. Now, if you thinkyouwere surprised, you should have seen him."

"I'll bet." His chuckle was deep for someone so young, but infectious.

Chapter Twenty-four

Anthony and James walked inside the tavern and paused to look over the crowded room, the same phenomenon occurred that had happened again and again throughout the afternoon. One by one, the occupants of the room noticed them, nudged their companions, and the room began to quiet, until the silence was as thick as the cloud of smoke floating above the scarred tables.

The riffraff of the wharves didn't take too kindly to the gentry invading their territory, and there was usually always some down-on-his-luck fellow filled with enough resentment of the upper classes to pick a fight with the unsuspecting slummers, as any well-dressed gents were assumed to be. It could be the highlight of an evening, a chance for the lower masses to get a little of their own back from the wealthy who think it their due to exploit them, by wiping the floor with the nabobs' beaten bodies and casting them out in the street half dead, and sometimes, actually dead.

But the sheer size of these two aristocrats gave even the meanest bruisers pause. They didn't have the look of the dandies who thought it a lark to frequent establishments they scorned in the sober light of day.

No, these two were obviously of a different quality, the menacing aura about them penetrating even the most sodden brain. Anyone who briefly thought of causing trouble quickly changed his mind at a second look and went on with his drinking and revelry, determined to ignore these particular nabobs.

The silence had lasted perhaps twenty seconds. Anthony didn't even notice it this time. He was tired, frustrated, and just a little bit intoxicated, since they had ordered drinks in each of the nine taverns they had entered while questioning the barkeeps. James did notice, and was berating himself once again for not dressing properly for this excursion. Clothes fitted a man to his elements, and theirs were distinctly out of place in these elements. But how had either of them known this would turn into an all-day excursion?

Anthony was deciding he had had enough for one day when his eyes lit on a thatch of bright red hair. He looked at his brother and rolled his eyes toward the bar. James followed the indicated direction and saw the fellow too. Red hair did not make him Geordie Cameron, but it did raise the odds that he was likely a Scotsman. James sighed, hoping this was the end of their search. Wildgoose chases were not how he preferred to while away his time.