Chapter 5

I met a Lady in the Meads

Full beautiful, a faery's child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light

And her eyes were wild.

—Keats

Elysia felt all upside down. Hazy mists drifted through her mind in lazy swirls.

Curly locks, Curly locks,

Wilt thou be mine?

Thou shalt not wash dishes

Nor yet feed the swine.

But sit on a cushion

And sew a fine seam,

And feed upon strawberries,

Sugar and cream.

Strawberries? They were out of season now, but she did like them with sugar and cream. She giggled.

Little Polly Flinders

Sat among the cinders,

Warming her pretty little toes

Her mother came and caught her,

And whipped her little daughter

For spoiling her nice new clothes.

What nice new clothes? She hadn't had any nice new clothes in a long time. It would be nice to eat strawberries and cream in nice new clothes. Oh…her head ached. Wh at was wrong with her? She was too old for these school-room and nursery rhymes. She could hear rain beating against the windowpane; she wouldn't be able to go out and play…

Rain, rain, go away,

Come again another day.

The rain beating against the glass became louder, and Elysia opened her eyes sleepily, staring at the crystal-like rivulets of water as they ran down the pane, like tiny elfin streams. Elysia closed her eyes and tried to recapture her dream, but it was too elusive to remember, and she felt herself drifting along, as if on a cloud, and smiled complacently. She should open her eyes and wake up, but she felt so warm and rested, her eyelids so heavy and weighed down, that she seriously doubted whether she could open them. It was too bleak and cold a morning to be out of bed anyway.

She rolled sideways, hugging her pillow, and heard the steady beating of her heart. It sounded as if it were in her ear. And now she could hear two hearts beating. What foolishness was this? She didn't have two hearts she thought drowsily, her mind clouded by an odd thickness.

Elysia struggled to re-open her eyes, the lids flickering slowly as she tried to focus. Everything looked indistinct. She stared down at the pillow beneath her cheek in confusion. It looked like a man's chest.

Elysia gave a gasp and looked up into the sleeping face of a man. The marquis! Her eyes widened as she became aware that she was lying curled up against him with her leg intimately wedged in between his legs as he lay on his back; her arm draped across his hairy, muscular chest.

She cautiously moved over, trying to sit up, but felt light-headed as she stared about the room. What was he doing in her room? But no, it was not her room. She was in a strange room. Elysia felt panic race within her—how could this be? Last night she had been in her own room—that she knew for a certainty—so what was she doing in here with a strange man in bed with her? Oh, God, what had happened? How could she and the marquis be sharing a bed?

Elysia threw back her side of the quilt and stretched out her legs to jump from the bed and realized that they were bare. She looked down in shock at her long slender thighs, and yanked them back under the cover, trembling at the discovery.

She was naked. Where was her nightdress? She looked frantically around the room while cowering beneath the covers, but could see no sign of it anywhere. She bit her fingernail nervously, giving the sleeping marquis a suspicious look. Could he have done this? No, he had taken a violent dislike to her when they first met. And for some reason, she instinctively knew that he did not seem the type to play this sort of game, or whatever it was. But she knew that she must get out of the room before he awoke and…and then what? For if he was innocent of this deed, then he would no doubt believe the worst—that she had come into his room…and into his bed. Oh, dear. What was she to do?

Elysia heard him give a deep sigh, and stretch, feeling deepening terror at the thought of his waking and finding her here. In her panic she jumped up and started to race for the door, then gave a terrified shriek as she felt hard hands reach out and pull her back onto the big bed before she could take more than a step. She fought like a wild cat, her hands and feet flying, trying to scratch and kick at him, but he was too quick and strong for her, and Elysia found herself pinned beneath his hard body, her arms stretched above her head in a vise-like grip, her legs held down by his—her unclad body pressed intimately to his naked one. They were both breathing heavily, her shocked green eyes, wide and dilated, staring into his surprised golden ones—neither of them speaking—their eyes locked together.

She watched as a crooked smile began to appear on his face and his eyes wandered over her frightened face with its parted and quivering lips and flared nostrils. They moved on to her hair, loose and flowing about her like a red-gold veil, and finally she saw them narrow and darken as he looked down at her breasts as they heaved uncontrollably beneath him .

"Well, well," he drawled. "I must say I haven't had such a pleasant surprise in years. To awaken and find Aphrodite had slipped into one's bed during the night, and so suitably dressed," he paused, one hand moving down over her naked body insultingly, "or should I say, so suitably undressed? It is indeed unexpected. But that she should not have awakened me—now that was unpardonable of her."

"Please, please listen to me," Elysia begged him as she felt his lips traveling slowly up her neck, and felt him nibble with his teeth on the soft lobe of her ear, causing shivers to run up her spine.

He was apparently just as surprised as she to find them together in his bed. She had guessed correctly when she thought that the marquis would not be a party to this, but she must now try to convince him that neither would she.

"I don't know how I came to be here in your bed. I—I was as surprised and as shocked as you were to find myself here, but please you must be—" she tried to tell him, but his mouth came down on her mouth cruelly, cutting off any explanations she might have made. She felt his hard lips parting her softer ones, his tongue finding hers, shocking her with its touch, and its intimate searching of her mouth.

Elysia was gasping for breath as his lips lifted from hers, having explored and plundered their softness. His lips were moving down her throat in quick hard kisses and she could feel his hands searching out the curves of her body, exploring them with each persuasive caress. She struggled helplessly against the hand which still held her bound, his mouth teasing a pink-tipped breast until it tautened.

What was he doing to her? She had never felt this way before, had never experienced a man's kisses or a lover's caresses. She was frightened. But a liquid fire was burning through her blood—an odd excitement flaring deep inside her—equal to her fright.

"You've bewitched me," he murmured thickly, in between kisses, "made me dizzy with desire. My head feels as if it would explode."

His lips moved along her temples to her wild eyes, closing them with his kisses until finally his mouth settled possessively upon her reddened lips.

"My icy, green-eyed witch, so disdainful with her flaming hair—I'll make you come alive with passion, Elysia," Trevegne whispered almost incoherently, her name sounding like a caress on his lips.

His mouth pressed against hers, hurting her as he smothered her protests and moans with his hungry kisses that became deeper and rougher as the endless minutes passed. Elysia felt him searching, then the feeling of something hard and alien to her feminine body touching her intimately. She felt terrified, and renewed her struggles with a new-found strength, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle. And then she heard the noise.

The door to the room was swung open, and voices seemed to fill Elysia's ears, and she felt the hard weight of Trevegne's muscular body lifted.

"Here we are, Terry," a familiar voice said, and then abruptly stopped. "I say, I'm awfully sorry. I must have mistaken this for my room."

Sir Jason's voice sounded shocked and apologetic. Trevegne, who had rolled off Elysia at the first sound of voices, was now sitting up, staring with a deadly look on his face at the two confused-looking gentlemen standing nervously in the doorway.

"If you will excuse us, Trevegne…" Sir Jason paused delicately, his eyes wandering over Elysia's disarrayed hair and bare shoulders as she huddled under the sheet, "…and, Miss Demarice, please accept our deepest apologies."

The other gentleman's face was suffused with a bright red color as he nervously looked at Trevegne, and the murderous expression in those golden eyes, and then, unable to control himself, at the delectable-looking creature with the wild red hair and huge green eyes lying next to the marquis on the bed.

"Uh, yes, yes, please accept my, uh, apologies," he mumbled, making a quick retreat from those two pairs of disturbing eyes; and the blackening temper of the marquis—a man he would not care to anger .

Sir Jason followed a little more slowly, looking over his shoulder as he closed the door, a wide triumphant grin tinged with undeniable malice upon his face, which neither Trevegne nor Elysia could possibly have missed.

Trevegne put his face into his hands and gave himself a shake as if trying to clear his mind of cloudiness. Then he turned his head and gave Elysia a devilish look, his eyes penetrating and steady, still darkened—but now with anger, not passion. "I am afraid that I was in no mood to listen to your explanations earlier, but now I want the truth, and no fabrications," he added menacingly, "for I believe we have just been witness to quite a performance by Sir Jason, and if that entrance was by accident, then I'll sell all my horses to the first country bumpkin I meet for a damned shilling."

"You, my lord, have the nerve, after mauling me, to sit there and swear in a rage at me, demanding that I should be the one to give the explanation, when it should be me demanding one from you," Elysia began in indignation, having at last found her tongue, only to be interrupted by his snarled oath.

"Hell and damnation, you don't really want me to stand and bow, and present myself most gentlemanly, begging your pardon?" he demanded making a threatening movement to leave the bed. "We've gone a little beyond Court manners, I believe."

Elysia gasped. "Of course not," she conceded quickly, not unaware of his nakedness.

"Now, how did you come to be in my bed, my dear?" he drawled casually, his golden eyes alert as she answered.

"I really don't know. After I left your company, and Sir Jason's, I went directly to my room which is the last one at the end of the corridor. Why, I don't even know where this one is?" Elysia looked wide-eyed at the marquis's thoughtful stare.

"It is at the opposite end of the hall from yours, opposite the staircase. I happened to see Sir Jason enter his room at the end of the hall last night—probably the room across from yours—that is why I doubt very seriously whether he could have mistakenly entered my room thinking it his," Trevegne answered, his eyes narrowing. "Proceed. You went to your room and…"

"I was tired from the day's journey, and I was preparing for bed when the innkeeper brought me a hot drink, rum I believe, because I remember feeling drowsy afterwards because of its potency. It had been sent up by Sir Jason, and that is all that I remember before I fell asleep. You must believe me, my lord. That is the truth, I swear to you," Elysia added as she noticed the fierce look that had settled on his face.

"So Sir Jason ordered you up a hot rum toddy," he speculated softly. "As it so happens, he also insisted that I join him in one before retiring. I would hazard to guess, my dear Miss Demarice, that we were drugged insensible last night by those infamous rum toddies and while senseless—Sir Jason was up to mischief."

"But if what you say is true, then what was the purpose? Sir Jason has no reason to feel ill will towards me," Elysia asked in puzzlement.

"Ah, but he feels that he has a legitimate grievance against me, I daresay, and you, my dear young woman, unsuspectingly became his pawn of revenge against me."

"I am afraid that I still fail to see how this can be revenge against you? It has been an insult, and an indignity to me—but revenge on you…?"

"Yes, revenge. Sir Jason hoped to entrap me in a position that I would find most difficult to extricate myself from—that of being found compromising an innocent young lady of quality. One does not seduce and then desert the daughter of one's peers—if one is a gentleman," he looked at her mockingly, "and if the young lady in question has vengeful relatives, who will no doubt hear about this escapade. It will, of course, be the talk of all London by tomorrow evening how Trevegne and a lovely woman were found locked in an embrace and…You do get the idea? I need not elaborate further?"

"Well, it will not work, for Sir Jason's plan has gone awry," Elysia stated firmly, "for I have no relatives who would either demand satisfaction or would force you into marrying me to save my good name. Pray tell me, you are married? "

"My dear Miss Demarice," Trevegne said softly, leaning over her, forcing Elysia back onto the pillows, and placing a hand on each side of her shoulders, "no one forces me to do anything that I do not wish to do. I am answerable to no one, do you understand? And—I am not married."

"Yes, I understand, but wouldn't Sir Jason also be aware of this? If you are so impregnable, then why are you so upset by Sir Jason's treachery? He cannot harm you—his plan has failed."

"No one makes a fool of a Trevegne," the marquis said angrily, staring down into Elysia's face as if pondering something of interest to him.

"Then it is just your injured pride that causes your indignation," she said scornfully, gasping in pain as his hard fingers closed over her soft shoulders in warning.

"Well, I cannot be forced into a marriage either. You, my lord, are not the only one who will not be blackmailed into something distasteful to him."

"You would find marriage to me distasteful would you?"

"Yes, but then since the fact of a marriage between us does not arise, it does not signify how I feel."

"Surely there is someone who cares about your welfare?"

"No, Lord St. Fleur, I have no one who would care if I were found drowned, and floating in the Thames; merely an inconvenience for having to send to London to fetch my body," Elysia spoke bitterly. "You said I have been used as a pawn, well I can tell you, my lord, that it is not the first time I have been callously taken advantage of to further a revenge. My aunt would have me married off to a fat, lecherous old squire against my will, because of some grievance against my parents, which she has nurtured for over thirty years."

"This aunt of yours, surely she would be upset to hear of this occurrence?" he asked curiously.

"My aunt would be overjoyed to know of my predicament, and furthermore loathes the very sight of me. And if you would allow me to get up, I will leave the room and not further complicate your life, my lord," Elysia told him, trying to push him away, but he resisted her efforts easily, and continued to stare at her, a gleam of amusement entering his eyes .

"I am afraid that I cannot allow you to leave, Miss Demarice," he said, having come to a decision.

Elysia looked at him wide-eyed. "You can't keep me here against my will," she cried, fearful he might be planning to resume where he had left off before being so timely interrupted by Sir Jason and friend.

"Are you daring me, Miss Demarice?" Trevegne asked her meaningfully.

"You know very well that I don't have half your strength; it would be foolhardy of me to try. But I fail to see any reason for you to keep me here. The damage is done, and as a gentleman, I know you won't…" Elysia paused in embarrassment, trying to select her words carefully.

"I won't continue to make love to you—no matter how enjoyable it was—if that is what you wanted me to say?" He looked amused at her confusion, his lip curling slightly. "Did you run away from home, Elysia?" he asked, giving her a slight shake as he watched the mutinous look on her face, compelling her to look into his eyes. "Is that why you are traveling without a maid or proper chaperone? And without an excess of baggage? Traveling light, I believe you said."

"Yes, I was," Elysia told him honestly, defiance in her voice. "It was no longer possible for me to live with my aunt. I had to leave. She was quite insane, I believe," she whispered brokenly, thinking of her aunt's contorted features as she had raged at her in fury.

"Then you have no home—no place to go?"

"No, I have no home, but I am going to London."

"What were you planning to do in London? Seek employment?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes, I shall look for a position as a governess, or possibly as a companion."

"You won't, you know," Trevegne stated baldly. "You are going to marry me."

Elysia felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. She looked at him as if he were crazed. "But that is absurd," she said. "You have just told me that no one could force you into marriage, and I don't want to marry you anyway. "

"No one is forcing me into marriage," Trevegne answered silkily. "I have been thinking of acquiring a wife, and you happen to be here, and available. I am merely taking advantage of the situation. You also have several points in your favor, the most inviting being your lack of relatives, for I should hate to have a bossy, interfering mother-in-law troubling me all the time. You also look as though you could bear me several fine sons," he laughed at Elysia's outraged expression, "and you happen to be a damned fine-looking woman." He dropped a light kiss on her nose, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"I will not marry you," Elysia told him angrily, her eyes glinting greenly. "I have no intention of agreeing to your proposals. I shall continue to London as planned and seek employment," she stated firmly, staring him in the eye. "You insult me, my lord. Proposing to me as if you were purchasing a mare—going over my finer points, indeed."

"Do you actually imagine that any woman would hire you to be a governess for her children, or as a companion to herself? Have you no awareness of yourself as a woman?" he disbelievingly demanded. "I've never yet met a woman who was not vain about her looks, and you are certainly a beauty, and bound to be a distraction to any man—especially if you're sleeping under his roof. I can't believe that a wife would willingly put you within sight of her husband's eye. Nor would some dowager enjoy seeing you every day—a constant reminder of her lost youth and beauty, which she will never recapture again."

Elysia stared up at him, dismay written across her face by his words, spoken in obvious truthfulness.

"And furthermore," he continued relentlessly, "your reputation will have preceded you to London. Do you actually believe that any decent woman would hire you to look after her children?" he asked incredulously.

"And don't doubt for a moment that Sir Jason will waste any time in telling his tale, without his own duplicity of course, and if not Beckingham, then that thick-headed friend of his, Twillington. He arrived late last night. I don't believe you had the pleasure of meeting him until this morning. Of all the men I know, he must be the biggest windbag in all of London. His tongue runs on wheels, so you may be assured that the clubs of St. James's will echo with this story. No doubt he will have lavishly embroidered it in exaggeration, so we will indeed, my dear, be painted black. That is, if it is possible for my reputation to be made blacker," he laughed deeply. "But you, my dear, will become notorious, for having been found in bed with me, and I would not give your chances of finding employment—decent employment, that is—as much of a chance as a snowball in Hell has."

"You don't feel regretful or embarrassed about my predicament at all," Elysia said in rising indignation. "I don't believe you have a shred of decency."

"No, I doubt if I do, but would you have me believe that you would rather work in some ungratifying and degrading job than marry a wealthy and titled gentleman, and have your every wish granted?"

"If that gentleman be you, then yes, I would. I would hire out as a scullery maid before accepting your name. You are no gentleman, my lord," Elysia declared hotly.

"By birth, yes. By reputation…?" he shrugged doubtfully. "But you sound quite the affronted and scorned female—well, if that is how you feel…" He released her shoulders, and leapt easily from the bed, ripping the covers from Elysia's naked body. He picked her up in one swoop, deposited her on the cold wooden floor squarely in the middle of the room, and then stood back and leisurely allowed his eyes to rove over her body. Elysia stood rigidly with her long hair rippling down below her hips. Her breasts were firm and round above a small waist and slender hips, her skin as smooth and white as alabaster. She could feel the flush of embarrassment heat her body as she tried ineffectually to shield herself with her hands.

"That's quite unnecessary, my dear, for I've already seen your charms—and sampled a few," he said, not sparing her from his ridicule. She kept her eyes averted from his bare body as he stood there unashamedly, with his broad muscular chest, its black curly hairs tapering down to lean narrow hips and long, firmly-muscled thighs, his obvious maleness flaunted before her shocked eyes. She had never seen a man's naked body before, and he was making her feel uncomfortable, very much aware of herself as a woman—and the difference between them.

"Now if you really are the well brought-up young lady you would have me believe, why aren't you making plans to drown yourself in some deep and murky pool, your honor saved? Of course, you could always wait until you reached London, and then jump from a bridge into the Thames. Much more dramatic, my dear, and society would love it. You, of course, would be pitied, becoming a martyr for young womanhood betrayed. After all, you have spent the night with the notorious rake of London society—Trevegne, and taken the only possible, and indeed, honorable way out."

Elysia felt tears swell in her eyes at his ridiculing remarks; her eyes large and luminous beneath her arched brows. She hung her head in dejection, tears of despair running down her pale cheeks. She tried valiantly but in vain to stifle her sobs as she felt all defiance drain out of her.

Something soft and warm was placed around her shoulders, and through her tears she saw that it was Trevegne's coat. He guided her over to his bed, helping her in and covering her with a warm blanket. He stood staring down at her as she stared up into his face with watery green eyes.

"You see, my dear, you really have no choice in the matter," he said not unkindly for once, "and I might add, that it would be criminal of me to allow so lovely a child to fling herself into the cold arms of Death, when mine are much warmer. Oh, and I've never been accused of mauling a woman before."

With that last jibe, he turned and proceeded to quickly dress. While pulling on his tall Hessians, he said shortly, "You stay where you are, and I'll fetch your belongings. You may dress yourself in here. My carriage should be arriving momentarily, and then we will leave. But first I'll have some breakfast sent up to you."

Elysia glanced at him as he left the room, his tall, broad form blocking the doorway, then disappearing as he closed the door behind him. She stared unseeingly up at the ceiling. Maybe she should try to drown herself, or even hang herself from the rafters, but that would give the inn a bad name, and that was hardly fair to the friendly innkeeper, she thought practically. She really should feel like killing herself—but the horrible thing was that she didn't feel in the least like taking her life. It was true that she had nobody left in the world to love, but some spark, some will to live was too strong in her to succumb to the death wish. But what would life be like married to Trevegne, a roué and a knave, who admitted to his own blackened reputation?

Maybe she could run away? She must escape him. She was thinking of several possibilities when the marquis opened the door and came in, putting her straw bag on the bed, along with her cloak and dress.

"I will have my coat now," he said, coming over to her side. She reluctantly struggled out of it and handed it to him, pulling the covers up securely around her shoulders as she peered up at him in uncertainty.

"My coach has arrived, so hurry and dress. We will depart in less than a half hour. And don't try to leave me by slipping out the back way, for I have made up my mind to marry you, and I shall, and I would find you Elysia," he threatened her coldly. "Also, I have confiscated this dangerous weapon of yours that I found concealed in your clothes," he said, holding it gingerly in his large hands.

Elysia bit her lip in vexation. She had not forgotten the weapon, and had planned to use it to aid her escape.

"A very fine duelling pistol," he added, expertly fingering the smoothly curved grip of the pistol, the long barrel glinting with inlaid silver. He looked at Elysia in speculation. "You would not have been tempted to use this on me, would you?"

Elysia shrugged indifferently, masking her fear with flippancy. "I would not regret putting a hole in your arrogant chest, only it would be deflected when it hit that piece of rock you call a heart, "

He laughed, apparently amused by her vitriolic reply. "You are very fortunate you did not try, my dear, for I deal harshly with attackers."

He left without a backward glance, and Elysia got slowly out of the bed and moved to her bag, checking to see if everything was still there. She found her nightdress stuffed in a wrinkled wad in the corner of it, and blushed in shame as she thought of how Sir Jason must have removed her gown and carried her naked to place her in the marquis's bed.

Her mortification was replaced by anger as she thought of the indignity and humiliation Sir Jason had caused her. Trevegne, she didn't doubt, deserved it however.

Elysia was dressed and re-packing her bag when the tavern maid entered carrying a tray with hot chocolate, a thick piece of ham, hot, savory-smelling muffins filled with melting butter, and a small pot of golden honey. She placed it on the small table by the window and left hurriedly, giving Elysia a friendly wink; a knowing look on her freckled face as she closed the door with a giggle.

Of all the impudence, thought Elysia, chagrined at what the maid must think, and bit hungrily into the warm muffin dripping honey.

She had just finished eating as the marquis entered the room resplendent in total black, with the exception of a gold brocade waistcoat and startling white cravat.

"You could have had the good manners to knock before entering," Elysia said disagreeably, feeling beggarly in her old, faded wool dress. "We are not man and wife yet."

"No we aren't—yet," he retorted mockingly, "but then prospective brides are not supposed to sleep or dress in their future husbands' rooms either." He laughed as she blushed a vivid pink, angry with herself for giving him the opportunity to mock her.

"Come, my dear, we must be off." He picked up her bag and draped her cape over her shoulders caressingly, smiling his crooked smile as he said softly into her ear, his breath tickling it intimately, "Smile, you're about to become a bride, not a widow. "

As they descended the stairs Elysia glanced about apprehensively, afraid she might see Sir Jason's amused blue eyes, and be forced to suffer his rudeness once again.

"No, my dear, Sir Jason is long gone from here, probably halfway to London by now," Trevegne said softly, interpreting her nervous glances. "He would be dead now, however, should he have had the effrontery to stay within range of my pistol," he continued in a deadly tone, "but he is a cur who would do his knavery like a thief in the night, and then turn tail and run by day."

They continued out of the inn into the yard where a large black and gold coach stood waiting for them, drawn by four, big black horses; their black and silver harnesses jingling expectantly. The liveried coachman sat atop the box, the reins held loosely in his gloved hands, and next to him another man sat huddled in his coat, and a third stood holding the spirited horses' heads, while a fourth held open the door to the coach. They were all dressed totally in black with gold buttons and stockings, gold buckles gleaming on their shoes, and crimson-lined greatcoats protecting them from the cold.

Elysia was helped into the coach, past the door with the marquis's crest emblazoned on it, and settled on the soft velvet cushions within. The door closed snugly behind her, and she looked out of the window and saw with relief that Trevegne was mounted on a big black stallion, rather than ride in the coach with her. She glanced up at the angry clouds, gathering strength to unleash another downpour upon the unfortunate traveler, and wondered how long she would have the privacy of the coach before the weather drove Trevegne to take shelter.

The sky became darker as they traveled along the hard-packed dirt road, the strong, healthy horses eating up the distance as easily as a bag of oats, their hooves pounding effortlessly through the puddles. She remembered the constant swaying and jolting of the mail coach, which only yesterday had been conveying her to London. How different his lordship's well-sprung coach made traveling the long uncomfortable miles over the pot-holed road, Elysia thought, as she leaned gratefully back against the softly cushioned seat .

She must have dozed off for awhile, because suddenly the coach was still and she could hear the rain pattering against the windows. The door was jerked open, and a caped figure jumped in as the coach began to move again.

Trevegne brushed the raindrops from his coat and settled back against the seat eyeing Elysia sardonically. "I'm sure you would have preferred that I remain outside, but out of necessity I have been forced inside with you. You would not have me catch a chill—or would you, my dear?"

"How long until we reach your home, my lord?" Elysia asked, ignoring his jibe, her voice sounding small and child-like with her nervousness.

"Sometime in the early hours of the morning, I should imagine. We will have to make a change of teams. I live in Cornwall, and I also think it is about time that you called me by my first name, Elysia. It is Alex."

"That far," Elysia gasped in surprise, a sick feeling in her stomach at the thought of being so far from all that she had previously known. Her plans to escape to London were futile if she were in the far reaches of Cornwall. But she shouldn't be surprised; it seemed appropriate that the marquis should live on that rocky coast. "I had no idea that you lived there…" Elysia finally said weakly.

"There is no reason why you should have, my dear. Would you have contemplated escape had you realized we would be so far into the wilds?" He leaned forward to look into her eyes. "Oh, I see. You had already been devising some means to escape from me. You would have tamely entered my home as my guest and fiancée, and then absconded during the night while the household slept, thinking yourself close to London. My, my, you are a determined little devil."

He removed a thin cheroot from a slender silver and gold case and lit it, the sweet aroma floating to Elysia's nostrils. "Well, I'm afraid that plan of yours would have come to naught. For you see, my dear, we are making a brief stop in a short while—a very necessary stop—to get married."

Elysia looked at him, wild-eyed with dismay, her lips partially open in bewilderment. "Married? Tonight? But how can that be? You've not had time to post the banns, or secure a license. And we can't get married so soon," she ended lamely, her voice quivering as a feeling of finality engulfed her. She felt as if she was taking an irrevocable step into something beyond her control. Elysia gazed at the marquis, her eyes unconsciously pleading for more time, but he was looking out of the window, his dark head turned away.

"I've a special license to marry and we shall be stopping momentarily with an acquaintance of mine who is a bishop, and he will perform the ceremony. It will probably be the triumph of his rather elongated life to see me married, and by his hand. That should assure you of its validity, my dear. So never think of leaving me with the idea that we were not legally married, for we shall be, and forever—or until one of us should die," he said indifferently.

"You have it all worked out," Elysia said resentfully. "You think you have me neatly tied up? Well, we shall see."

"You will learn, Elysia, that I am a very thorough man, and very careful and watchful over those things that belong to me," he said quietly, a thread of iron in his voice.

The coach came to a sudden halt, and Trevegne jumped down, holding out his arms for Elysia to alight. Her eyes turned toward the pale yellow lights shining from the house, in resignation and submission to her fate.