Chapter 7

Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,

Her mantle of the velvet fine,

At ilka tett of her horse's mane

Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

—15th Century Ballad

Elysia sat staring out of the large, mullioned windows at the choppy gray sea below, its angry waves crashing heavily against the rocks at the base of the cliff. White sprays of foam were shooting high into the air like giant uncontrolled fountains. The rain that had been continuous since the night of her arrival over a week ago had finally ceased, giving way to sullen overcast skies.

Elysia shivered and stood up, hugging her shawl closer about her shoulders as she moved to sit in a green-and-blue-striped satin chair before the hissing fire. The logs were shooting orange sparks as they burned brightly in the hearth.

Of Trevegne, she had seen little, except at dinner when she was allowed the privilege of his company—a privilege she wished she could forego. Those few hours with him became either unbearable with his biting sarcasms and cruel remarks, or completely unnerving to her with his cold penetrating stares—she didn't know which was worse.

Unfortunately, it was always just the two of them, no sister or other members of his family whom she could become friends with, only a younger brother in London, who was probably just like Trevegne—and she could hardly cope with him, much less another just like him. Why couldn't he have had a large, warm family? She could have lost herself among their chatter, and been protected from his constant displeasure. He would hardly single her out in a family gathering as he did with just the two of them dining at that long banqueting table with the crystal and silver gleaming under the sparkling candelabras.

What had she done to displease him? She never saw him long enough to do anything to cause him annoyance. He prowled around the great house like a caged bear, growling at anyone who made the mistake of addressing him. Even Dany was not immune from his foul temper.

Elysia sighed dispiritedly and looked down at her old woolen gown. She hated the sight of it, but her other two dresses were in just as poor condition—if not worse—and hopelessly out of style. No wonder Trevegne could hardly bear the sight of her, averting his eyes after only a glance at her, as if she made him physically ill. She had caught his golden eyes brooding on her several times however, with a speculative gleam in them until he noticed her look, and scowling heavily, dared her to speak.

Elysia cringed at the thought of asking him for new clothes, or even the money to buy material so she could make something for herself to wear, but even as she gathered up her courage she thought of his unpredictable temper and remained silent.

Dany had been kind, tactfully ignoring her impoverished appearance, sensing Elysia would not accept pity or charity, but she could see the curious stares of the servants, and knew what they were whispering and gossiping about in the servants' quarters. Most of the servants were better dressed than the mistress of Westerly, so what could they be expected to think of her? Trevegne's destitute bride.

Elysia stood up in vexation, walking around the big room in boredom. She couldn't help but remember the long, almost never-ending days of tedious work at Aunt Agatha's, but she had to admit she had never been bored—she'd always been too busy, or too tired. It would seem she was never to be happy. What was wrong with her? Was she never to find an in-between state of being? Either she was worked to death or bored to death. She should be able to enjoy her leisure—but there was something missing—companionship ?

Elysia had found that Westerly was run as smoothly as the intricate workings of a clock—efficiently and orderly—as it had for centuries. As the marchioness, she was expected to do little more than select flower arrangements and approve menus—menus that were faultlessly prepared by Trevegne's French chef. And she never had been able to sit hours on end enjoying the lady-like arts of embroidery and petit-point; her mind always seeming to wander in various directions—along with her stitches. She might not have strenuous labor to do at Westerly, but she still existed in that no-man's-land of not being a part of, or belonging to something. Dany had befriended her, but she was busy with the endless duties she had to perform to run the large mansion she had managed for almost twenty years. And with a household as large as Westerly, with its army of servants, Elysia was content to let Dany continue to run it—although Dany respected her as the new mistress, and consulted her about any major problem or decision. Elysia could see why Trevegne loved the little woman; she was indeed a gem.

But no, she would not allow herself to mope. She was happy here. Who wouldn't be in this beautiful mansion? And the sea—the strangely alluring, but brutal sea that lulled her to sleep each night with its pounding lullaby. Lying awake each night, hearing her husband move about in his room, wondering if that night would be the night he would come to her, demanding his rights. That was really what was bothering her, worrying her. If it hadn't been for that constant fear—then she would truly be happy here at Westerly.

Elysia picked up a small delicately formed vase sprouting a bouquet of flowers and buds formed of small pink and white seashells. The whole salon, in fact, seemed to be an extension of the sea, with its dominant greens and blues of varying shades, intermingling with the gilt furniture. On a bright summer day the room would be beautiful and airy with the light streaming in from the large expanse of floor-length windows facing onto the sea. She could just imagine the room bathed in the rays of the setting sun, the Oriental carpets enrichened into deep reds and blues and golds, the tapestries hanging on the walls coming to life and gaining depth and the illusion of movement. But today, with the darkening shadows of oncoming winter and her despondent mind, it seemed cold and austere.

But every room in Westerly was just as magnificently furnished. Built on the ruins of an old Norman fort that had once guarded the conquered land from further invaders, Elysia had been given a tour of inspection by Dany, and been surprised by the size and the splendor of this ancient home. She'd had no idea that Trevegne was so wealthy. She had indeed suspected that he was not living in penury by the fine clothes he wore, the elegant coach and horseflesh he sported, and his habit of traveling with a full entourage of revered servants. He was also too commanding a figure not to have riches; his air of hauteur and arrogance signified wealth.

Elysia had seen the gold salon with its golden elegance and Queen Anne furnishings, the red drawing-room like a seductive lady bedecked in rubies—the dark reds glowing richly against the old, highly-polished mahogany. There was the dining-room in colors of champagne and pink; the table long enough to seat a hundred, and seeming insignificant next to the banqueting hall that could, no doubt, seat five hundred hungry guests—but it was seldom if ever used now.

But one of her favorite rooms was the morning-room, facing east to enjoy the rising sun that warmed the room on clear days, the creamy-yellow satin cushions and drapes a reflection of the sunbeams as they entered the room, making Elysia think of butter and honey pouring from the walls.

She'd lost count of the many drawing-rooms and bedrooms in the different wings of the house. Each room was carefully and elegantly furnished so each guest would feel privileged to sleep beneath a silk canopied bed or delicately painted ceiling.

Even the servants' quarters were well-kept and properly heated and ventilated for winter and summer, a far cry from the dingy and overcrowded servants' rooms at Graystone Manor.

But throughout all her explorations from cellars to attics, west wing to east wing, seeing every magnificent room and climbing countless staircases in the enormous house dating back before the reign of Queen Elizabeth, nothing could compare to Trevegne's well-stocked library with its wall-to-wall shelves and spiralling staircase, which twisted up to a small loft with its large comfortable chairs. A wide window stretched down to the floor below and provided ample light to read by. Elysia had found this treasure trove only a few days before and now spent most of her time reading from the handsomely covered volumes which she had filched from its shelves. She would read in bed in the early hours of the morning until her breakfast was brought to her, for she still rose early, unaccustomed, after her years with Agatha, to lounging lazily in bed. Or later in the day she would sit quietly up in the loft, carefully out of sight from overly observant eyes—golden ones in particular.

Elysia had missed the luxury of reading almost as much as she had missed horseback riding. Reading was the only inactive pastime she truly enjoyed, something that if she'd had the opportunity at Agatha's to enjoy, would have been forbidden. It was Agatha's contention that books were evil, and a waste of time—giving people foolish ideas above their station in life.

But now she could enjoy reading all of the books that she desired. Never had she seen such a large selection of books, covering such a wide assortment of subjects, many of which would be considered unsuitable reading for a young girl. But Elysia had been educated far beyond the average female's approved academic curriculum, having shared a tutor with her brother Ian; she had read not only the Greek classics, but many of the popular eighteenth-century novels like Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver's Travels , and even Fielding's Tom Jones .

Trevegne's library had all of her favorites, including the complete works of Shakespeare, and the young modern Romanticists; Byron, Coleridge, Keats, and Shelly, who were just receiving their first taste of public approbation. She had been excited and surprised to find these romantics in Trevegne's library, being a self-admitted cynic, but then Elysia supposed that even he would make some sacrifices to have a complete library. Also they were all acquaintances of his, and it was the least he could do to honor their friendship—especially since the volumes were personally inscribed by the authors to the marquis.

Elysia leant her forehead against the cold pane, wondering where Trevegne was this morning. Shrugging her shoulders, she picked up a slim volume of love sonnets by Shakespeare and sat down before the fire, beginning to read when the door was opened by Dany, who sailed in with the household keys jingling at her plump waist.

"Now here ye are, Lady Elysia," she said disapprovingly. "Ye didn't touch ye breakfast this mornin', and here I was thinkin' we were puttin' some flesh back on those bones again."

"I was not especially hungry this morning, Dany," Elysia answered, closing her book without a glance at the printed words.

"Well, we'll just have to prepare ye a good appetizing lunch, eh?" Dany said coaxingly, scrutinizing her young mistress's pale face with concern.

"Have you seen Trevegne?" Elysia asked, pretending disinterest as she smoothed a crease in her dress and missed the relieved look that came to Dany's eyes as she realized what was amiss with Elysia—at least it was nothing physical.

"Oh, yes, early this morning, and growling like a bear to be let out, he was," she said clucking her tongue disapprovingly, while running her finger along the mantel shelf checking for dust. "And glad I was to see him leave."

"Where did he go?" Elysia asked in surprise.

"Out on the estate somewhere on that big black brute of his."

"He's gone out riding, then?" Elysia said enviously, wishing she could have ridden out into the cool air on a horse as powerful as Trevegne's black.

"Aye, and a more vicious animal I've never seen. The Lord's had mercy on us that he's not been killed by that devil-horse," Dany said in denunciation of the big horse.

"Oh, Dany," Elysia said chuckling, "he's a beautiful horse. And I should, for once, love to be with Trevegne who is out riding that horse right now," she added, blushing as she realized the indiscretion of her words when she saw the odd look on Dany's face.

The door to the salon was opened by a footman announcing the delivery of Lady St. Fleur's trunks and baggage from London. Elysia looked startled at the news, and looked at Dany in a perplexed fashion.

"But, I've no trunks, Dany. Surely there is some mistake."

"Well, now. We best go and see, hadn't we?" the older woman said matter-of-factly, leading a protesting Elysia up to her room.

There were three large trunks and several boxes and bags crowded together in her room as she and Dany entered.

"Oh, Dany. There must be an error; these must have been sent for Lord St. Fleur—not Lady St. Fleur," Elysia said nervously, trying to stop the trembling excitement she was feeling at the sight of the very feminine-looking trunks of pale blue, and the lacy-edged hat boxes. Maybe they were for her, but how could they possibly be, since she had not had measurements taken, or been fitted by a seamstress for any new clothes?

Lucy, the lady's maid that Dany had provided for Elysia, was already opening the big trunks, and giving an excited screech as the door of one swung open to reveal a row of beautiful, gauzy dresses in a rainbow of colors.

"Oooh! Your ladyship!" Lucy exclaimed in awe, as she drew out a cobweb-fine, white lace gown, its train floating about Lucy like a cloud as she lifted it carefully from the confines of the trunk.

"It's exquisite," Elysia breathed as she lightly touched its gossamer fineness, "but can it really be for me?" She turned to look at Dany almost beseechingly.

"Aye, they be for ye, my dear," Dany said opening up another trunk to reveal satins and velvets crowded together. She reached in and pulled out a bottle-green mantle, high-waisted and trimmed in fur, and a matching muff and bonnet with a wide brim, trimmed with the same.

"But how can these clothes be for me? I was never fitted for them, so how can they possibly fit?" Elysia asked worriedly, taking off the borrowed slippers Dany had somehow managed to secure for her. Her old clogs shocked Dany to the core of her being when she'd seen Elysia wearing them in the salon. Elysia slipped her narrow foot into a jade green leather slipper, which fit perfectly. Lucy began to hang the dresses up in the closet. Her other two dresses, resting in a neglected and crumpled heap on the floor, were ousted from the closet by Lucy with a contemptuous sniff of her pert little nose.

"Everything will fit just perfectly," Dany commented as she watched Elysia admire the green slipper, "because I took your measurements from one of your old gowns and your shoes."

"Dany—you did this? You got all of these things for me ?" Elysia ran to the little woman and impulsively hugged her, crushing the powder-blue velvet robe Dany was shaking out, between them.

"Well now, I only got your measurements for them. 'Twas your husband, Lord Alex, who ordered them for you—and very explicit he was in what he wanted from London. ‘Bright colors,' he says, ‘in greens and golds. Get her everything she needs for a complete wardrobe.' Oh, yes, Lord Alex knew what he wanted. And only the best for his bride." Dany was smiling proudly up in Elysia's astonished face, beaming like a cherubic magician pleased with his tricks of magic.

"Trevegne ordered these for me from London?" Elysia asked, dropping a filmy white nightdress as if it burned her fingers. He had gotten all of these clothes for her, and in so short a space of time. He must have had every seamstress in London working until midnight to complete her wardrobe—and how expensive it must have been, Elysia thought, as she looked at all of the dresses strewn across the room. Morning dresses, afternoon dresses, walking dresses, with shoes and bonnets to match each, with cloaks and robes, and the finest undergarments and lawn nightdresses. Dany opened another trunk to reveal, in glorious colors, a ball gown with a flounce of turquoise satin, and a sea-green gown sprinkled liberally with diamanté stars. She could see the skirts of other gowns peeking out from behind, in a kaleidoscope of colors and fabrics.

Elysia looked down at all the beautiful dresses spread over the bed, unable to decide, now that she had a choice, what to wear. Suddenly, she spied a deep-green, velvet dress. Elysia reached for it quickly, holding it up against herself in excitement.

"Now, what will you wear, Lady Elysia?" Dany asked, selecting a lovely violet, flowered muslin morning dress with long narrow sleeves and rows of ruffles at the hem. "'Tis a lovely dress, here."

"No. I'll wear this," Elysia said positively, making up her mind as she held out the riding outfit. "I'm going riding."

"Lady Elysia." Dany looked momentarily taken aback. "Ye can't go out riding on one of Lord Alex's horses. He doesn't allow anyone but Peter, or some of his closest friends, to ride them," she said, scandalized by the thought.

"I can ride as well, if not better, than any man, and I am Lady St. Fleur. I have the right," Elysia said stubbornly, thankful for the first time that she was and could demand her pleasure for a change. "What can Trevegne possibly do to me anyway? I am his wife, aren't I?" she demanded arrogantly, seeking confirmation from the two silent women who stood staring at her in awe, a hint of concern in their faces.

"Help me into it, Dany," Elysia requested, starting to unbutton her dress. "Please," she added entreatingly, a dimple peeping out of the corner of her mouth.

"Very well, Lady Elysia. I can't deny ye when ye look at me like that. Ye'd charm the devil himself—and maybe ye be at it now," she added portentously, helping Elysia into the superbly cut riding dress which fit her snugly across the shoulder. Elysia gave a squeal of delight when Dany unearthed a pair of riding boots from the depths of one of the trunks. "Do you think they'll fit?" she asked, as she fell back onto the bed in an undignified position. She struggled into them, exclaiming triumphantly as she paraded across the room, an impish smile on her face. "Perfect!"

"And here's ye hat." A smile tugged at the corner of Dany's mouth as she placed the ridiculous little bit of hat with its lavender-plumed feather, saucily over one of Elysia's arched brows. "There ye are. Ye be all set, but for what, I'd rather not know," Dany declared in resignation, for she felt Elysia was bound for disaster .

Elysia stared at herself in the large dressing table mirror, looking critically at her reflection, but unable to find anything at fault in the slender figure dressed in dark green velvet staring back at her. The small beaver hat and feather and her half-boots laced with green complimented the outfit. She hardly recognized herself out of her rags. Elysia couldn't suppress a satisfied smile curving her lips as she turned to see the admiration of Dany and Lucy, standing amidst the colorful dresses that were scattered about the room like a field of spring flowers.

"I'm off," she declared, giving a giggle as she tripped over the edge of one of the trunks reaching for a pair of gloves. Elysia's laugh echoed in the room after she had left and Lucy and Dany stood staring at each other in nervousness at their young mistress's precipitous actions—neither of them voicing their fears.

Elysia hurried down the grand staircase, breezily pushing through the large double doors at the entrance much to the consternation of Browne, who was hobbling across the hall with a tray of freshly shined and sparkling crystal. Elysia gave him a cheery hello as she disappeared, her bobbing lavender plume the last thing Browne saw of her as he stood shaking his white head.

She took a deep breath of the tangy salt breeze blowing off the ocean. Elysia could still see the pounding waves as she walked toward the stables, and drawing nearer she could hear the muffled whinnies of the horses beyond the broad stable doors. She quickened her pace in anticipation.

Elysia entered, and stood silently watching the bustling activity of the busy stableboys and grooms, noticing how spotless a stable it was, even with many stalls. Since it was such a big stable, she should surely be able to find one horse that Trevegne would not object to her riding. She was glancing about, hoping to spot the head groom, when she saw a short, wiry figure standing squarely in the middle of an empty stall. He was issuing orders to several stableboys standing attentively by. Elysia walked purposefully toward the man, her chin set firmly forward .

"Excuse me, but I should like a mount," she said in a no-nonsense voice, deciding a show of authority would be her best attitude to adopt—although she was shaking within. The short man turned around in surprise at the sound of a feminine voice behind him.

Elysia stepped back in shock, her mouth soundlessly opening several times before she finally, almost inaudibly uttered, "Jims?"

The grizzle-haired man rubbed the back of his hands over his eyes, and stared up at the green-clad figure in disbelief. "Miss Elysia?"

"Oh, Jims, is it really you?" Elysia asked, her eyes hanging onto his small figure as if afraid he was a mirage.

"Miss Elysia. 'Tis good to see ye," he spoke in a choked voice, his eyes suspiciously bright. "I'd thought never to lay eyes on ye again."

Elysia smiled tremulously. "What are you doing here, Jims?"

"Why, I work here, Miss Elysia. I'm the head groom, and a finer stable ye'll not find in all of England," he said proudly.

"With you running it, that would indeed be doubtful," Elysia said, looking about her with admiration.

"Well, it's his lordship that's got the eye for bloodlines. Never seen a finer eye for stock—except maybe for yer papa, Miss Elysia," he added reverently, still loyal to his first employer and friend. "But what are ye doing here? His lordship be just recently married, and a surprise to us all it was, us thinkin' him a bachelor fer life. Ye be a'visitin' here then?"

"No, Jims. I live here now—you see, I am the new Lady St. Fleur."

Jims looked stunned by Elysia's news. "Ye be married to his lordship, Miss Elysia?" A frown appeared on his weathered brow. He knew his lordship's reputation, and was pretty sure that this marriage would not have met with approval from Miss Elysia's parents—even though he was of the opinion that his lordship was on the square, and played the game fair.

"Yes, Jims, I am," Elysia answered, surprised that Jims did not seem overly concerned at finding her married to the marquis.

"Well, I be glad ye've left that woman's house, anyway," he said, spitting as he shifted the wad of tobacco he was chewing to the other side of his mouth. "No disrespect meant, Miss Elysia, but I never did like the looks of her. She treat ye all right, didn't she?" Jims asked, looking fierce at the thought of anyone mistreating his Miss Elysia.

"It's all over now, Jims, and I shall never see her again," Elysia answered, reluctant to explain more of what she had lived through.

"I can't believe it, that I be workin' fer ye agin. It be fate that ye be here now, Miss Elysia." He cast a glance over at the boys busily scrubbing down the stall, and then added hesitantly, "His lordship ain't exactly like your father, Miss Elysia, but I'll tell ye that he be a good man deep down inside. Treats his horses good; never takes the whip to them. Anyone who loves horses can't be all bad," he said, giving a somewhat qualified approval to her marriage. "He be a strange man at times, but he be honest."

Elysia silently agreed with him. She was indeed married to a strange man, but whether it was fate—or just bad luck—that had caused it, she didn't know. It was too late now to change anything, and she was beginning to feel the truth of the fact, she was Lady St. Fleur, the wife of a marquis, and never again would she be plain Elysia Demarice. There was no escaping that fact—and she would have to live with it.

"So, ye be wantin' to ride, eh, Miss Elysia?" Jims said happily, pleased to have his favorite protégée back under his care again. "Aye, I can see th' sparkle in yer eye," he said chuckling.

"If you only knew how long I've waited and longed to ride once again, Jims. It's like a fever with me," she said following him along the row of stalls.

"So, ye've not had a good ride in a long while? No decent mounts for ye to ride, eh?" Jims commented with understanding, knowing no other stable could meet his standards of horseflesh—nor Miss Elysia's.

Elysia laughed. "Finding a decent mount was the least of my troubles, Jims. In fact, there were no saddle horses. Only a couple of old nags to pull an out-of-date carriage."

"You've not ridden at all!" Jims croaked in astonishment. " Lord help that woman—not to be lettin' ye ride. Aye, she be a mean 'un, all right," he grumbled, muttering curses on Agatha's head.

Elysia smiled. If he only knew half of what Agatha had done to her…

"Now, did the marquis say ye was to have any particular horse?" he asked, eyeing her carefully.

"No, the truth is—I haven't asked his lordship's permission to ride," Elysia told Jims truthfully.

"Ye haven't, eh?" he said, rubbing his chin. "Well, I don't likely know if I should let ye then, Miss, er, Lady Elysia. He be a real cool 'un about who's to ride his bloods."

"Jims," Elysia said reproachfully. "You, above all people, know that I can ride better than any man. Between you and Father, I've had the best teachers in the country," she added matter-of-factly.

"Aye, that you have," Jims agreed with pride, well aware of her expertise, for which he had partially been responsible.

"I want to ride now, Jims. I just can't wait, and besides Trevegne is out somewhere on the estate. By the time he returns it might be noontime, or later. Oh, please, Jims," she pleaded. "I'll even ride an old mare if that is all that is available," Elysia added desperately—and a trifle too innocently.

Jims pulled himself up to his full five feet, looking affronted. "Now, Miss—er, Lady Elysia," he corrected, unable to adjust to her new title, "ye knows better than to think that I would ever mount ye on anything but the very best."

"I know you would not like to…but if that is all that is available—then you know I would prefer that to causing you any trouble, Jims," Elysia answered truthfully.

"Let's see what we can find for ye," he said, inspecting several satin-coated horses, which Elysia would have loved to have ridden, without stopping. Her husband certainly did know how to pick fine horseflesh, she had to admit, as they passed champion- after champion-caliber horse. Surely Jims could find something for her to mount, she thought worriedly as they came to the last stall—one set apart from the others.

"Well, I don't know if ye'll be likin' this 'un, but ye can give it a try if ye like," Jims told her with a doubtful look on his face.

Elysia looked into the stall, curious as to what Jims finally had selected for her, and gave an indrawn breath as she saw the sleek, muscular white flanks.

"Ariel!" Elysia cried, opening the gate and rushing in as the big horse turned at the sound of her voice. Remembering her, he neighed softly, putting his head against her neck and snorting hotly.

"Oh, Ariel, Ariel," she murmured as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. She rubbed his velvety nose and hugged his broad neck with outstretched arms.

"Well, I see ye've not forgotten each other," Jims finally broke in, his voice muffled by emotion.

Elysia released her hold on Ariel, and turned to look at the little man, a warmth of undying gratitude in her green eyes. She impulsively hugged him, planting a kiss on his leathery cheek, unable to express her feelings in words. Ariel nudged her back, neighing for her attention again, and she turned back to him, murmuring softly into his cocked ear.

"Aye, the two of ye belong together, and no one else would he allow on his back, not even his lordship, who has a way with horses that I've seldom seen. But ol' Ariel wouldn't let him on—for two years now. Even so, the marquis wouldn't have him destroyed, or sold—said he was too beautiful an animal to send out of this world, even if he was apparently a one-master horse. And seein' how I knows him, and could care for him, he lets the beastie have his way. We been breedin' him. Have a couple of nice young 'uns about the place now, and his lordship be real proud of them."

"I can't believe it, Jims," Elysia tearfully managed to say, "that I should see both of you again, when I had come to believe that the past was indeed dead, and inhabited by mere ghosts of the people and things that I had loved," Elysia sighed deeply. "If you only knew how many times I thought of you, and Ariel; wondering what had happened to you, and if Ariel's new owner would be kind to him. And now here he is—my Ariel. It just seems too utterly fantastic to believe. "

"Not so fantastic—after all, the marquis has the best stables in England, so it's not strange that he'd want Ariel—seein' how he's such a fine horse," Jims explained. "But I have to admit I'd been a might worried that day we left fer London. Oh, we got down easily enough, but 'twas the auction that had me feelin' between hawk and buzzard. Didn't care to part with him that I didn't, what with all them young bucks too eager to use the whip eyeing him over, and seein' how he wasn't likely to let any of 'em on his back. But then his lordship shows up, and buys him right off. He'd watched me working with Ariel before the auction and liked my style, so before I knows it, I be workin' fer him, and takin' Ariel down to his estate fer him. I'd told him I couldn't get no references, seein' how my last employer had died, but he says all he needed to know was what he'd seen me do with the horse."

"So you and Ariel have been here—safe, all of this time. I'm so relieved." Elysia turned back to the big horse and planted a kiss on his nose. "Does Trevegne know that Ariel is my horse—was my horse?" Elysia asked Jims.

"Well now, when Ariel wouldn't let him ride him, he did ask who had owned him before, but when I said it was a woman—well, he smiled crookedly and sorta sneered like, and said, ‘Then it doesn't surprise me that he's so difficult.' Although he was a bit surprised to think that a woman could handle such a big stallion. Remember he said it must have been some fierce Amazon. Whatever that be. And then he didn't ask any more questions."

"An Amazon, did he say?" Elysia demanded, feeling oddly put out. She shrugged away the feeling—what did she care what he thought of her. "Shall we go for a romp, Ariel? I'll bet you've longed for one as much as I have in my exile. All right, Jims?" Elysia looked for permission.

"Aye, Miss Elysia, we'll get him saddled up."

They stopped at a closed stall, and opening it, Jims showed Elysia a new-born foal, its coat ruffled and damp as it wobbled on unsteady legs. Ariel snorted behind Elysia's shoulder, and the mare standing protectively by her new-born foal neighed softly in answer. Elysia looked at the little foal with new interest .

"You'll have to be using a firm hand on Ariel, what with him strutting about playing the proud sire," Jims chuckled.

"So this is one of Ariel's," Elysia breathed softly, having fallen in love immediately with the precariously balanced foal.

Elysia felt mixed emotions as they led the frisky Ariel out into the stable yard. Outwardly, they were the same—but time had changed them. Ariel and she did not belong to each other as they had before. They'd been carefree and one as they'd raced across the fields, but now Ariel had a mate—and she, Elysia, belonged to the marquis.

Jims saddled him up while the stableboys and grooms stood about, gawking at the sight of the big white stallion that no one could go near, nuzzling gently the face of the beautiful lady in green.

Jims helped Elysia mount, and cautioned her, "Go easy, Miss Elysia. Ye've both got plenty 'o time to catch up and no hurry to do it in, so don't try to race the wind."

Elysia waved as she and Ariel cantered sedately out of the yard, not fooling Jims, who knew they'd be flying as soon as they cleared the yard.

Elysia headed eastward, racing down the road which connected Westerly with the village of St. Fleur and the major road farther inland. She halted on a rise, trying to decide which way to ride, and looked back at the huge H-shaped house, the great hall forming the bar of the H. Westerly seemed to loom above the sea, as it sat on a promontory of rocks. The marquis's flag waved in the breeze, proclaiming his residence—the crimson, black, and gold crest brightening the sky.

Giving a last glance to the sea, Elysia headed inland, galloping wildly across the moorland paths, feeling the cool air caressing her cheeks. The golden oranges and yellows of the autumn landscape merged into one blur of color as it flashed past the galloping hooves.

They jumped a stone wall in one fluid motion, Ariel's hooves clearing it by feet as they sped on across the rolling expanse of ground, mud flying upwards by the heavy hooves. She felt so free—so safe, to be riding on the familiar back of the big white horse, and knowing her dear Jims was back at the stable. She could so easily have been back at her home, out for an early morning canter, her brother riding hard to catch up with her, scolding her with a smile for her fool-hardiness.

Elysia could almost hear the hooves pounding furiously behind her, and involuntarily she looked over her shoulder, only to see a rider closing the distance between them. For a brief moment she thought her dream had merged into reality as she watched the familiar figure, then she recognized the big black horse, and knew that it was not her brother—but the marquis—who was trying to intercept her. Elysia felt a spark of defiance and excitement race through her veins as she urged Ariel to a faster pace, his mane flying backwards as they increased the distance. But Trevegne was still gaining upon them, until finally, he was even with them. He reached across and pulled up on Ariel's reins, slowing them down until they both stopped abreast of each other.

"Hell and damnation! What the devil—" Trevegne began, only to stop abruptly when he saw who the rider was. "Elysia?" he said incredulously, his eyes blazing in his white face. "What the devil are you doing on this horse? No one rides him. He's dangerous." He reached across and tried to draw Elysia from her saddle and into his arms, but she jerked the reins and backed Ariel up, moving out of his reach and allowing the horse to rear up, his hooves pawing the air threateningly.

"Obviously you are mistaken, my lord, for as you can plainly see I am on his back," Elysia said, enjoying herself immensely at Trevegne's expense.

"Yes, I can plainly see that, but how the devil you managed it is a mystery. You could be lying out there with a broken neck," he said tersely, making an obvious effort to control himself. His black horse nervously pawed the ground as he sensed his master's anger.

"It's no mystery, Trevegne, for you did call me a witch one time—if I recollect accurately, so I am merely utilizing my powers," Elysia couldn't resist taunting.

"I did not think that you would have forgotten that occasion, Elysia," he retorted, both of them well aware of his inference. He always did manage to get in the last word, Elysia thought resentfully. "How did you get him out of the stables? I've strict orders that no one is to go near him," he said severely, yet puzzled by her feat.

"I took full responsibility when I ordered the mount of my choosing," she explained quickly in defense of Jims, should he be blamed.

"Damn, you've no right to go over my authority. My word is law. That Jims would have allowed you to take Ariel out, knowing the danger and that I forbade it, he must be crazed—and I'll have his—"

"There was no danger, and Jims knew that."

"No danger. Good Lord, if anyone knows that horse, Jims does. Granted you kept your seat, but he is dangerous. Jims is a fool to have let you mount him. My God, he trained the brute and—"

"—and I owned him," Elysia admitted quietly, watching the surprise enter his eyes as the heavy lids momentarily lifted to give her the full effect of those golden eyes.

" You owned him?" he demanded in disbelief.

The marquis looked at her as if she had sprouted horns, Elysia thought in amusement. "Yes. Ariel was mine, until I was forced to sell him at auction, along with all else that my family possessed, to pay the debts when my parents died."

The marquis stared at Elysia, his eyes narrowed in thought as he sat contemplating her defiant face. "So, you were the owner of Ariel. I now know why he acted so prickly and stubborn. He takes after his mistress when he refuses to be ridden," he added softly.

Elysia gasped at his crude comparison, her eyes roving over him in derision as she said, "We both happen to be very discriminating in our likes."

"What a tragic circumstance for you, Lady Elysia, since I happen to be your loving husband," he told her as he made a quick lunge and lifted Elysia from her saddle in one smooth sweep. He held her tightly in his arms, hurting her with his strength .

Elysia struggled ineffectively, staring up fearfully into his angry face, afraid she had taunted him too far this time.

"So, you do not care for my caresses, my kisses," he whispered in a hard voice before his mouth closed down upon her lips, pressing hard against them in his anger, bruising them beneath his. The painful pressure lessened as his lips softened on hers, persuasively moving against them—parting them and invading their softness. This altered and gentle attack was far more devastating than his previous brutality. She was crushed against his hard chest as he continued to kiss her determinedly, until he felt her body relax against him, and Elysia gave a small sigh of surrender.

"Are you sure you do not desire my kisses, Elysia?" he demanded against her softly trembling mouth. She kept her eyes closed, refusing to look into his golden eyes—knowing she would find them mocking her. "Look at me, Elysia," he persisted.

Elysia opened her eyes at last, and stared up into his, which reflected her confusion in their darkened golden depths.

"You shall admit your true feelings one day, Elysia—I shall make you," he said arrogantly, his proud dark head held high as he stared hypnotically into her flushed face.

He rode over to where Ariel had grazed and lifted Elysia back onto her saddle, giving a deep, almost violent laugh at her obvious relief at being out of his arms. Elysia shot him a murderous look, and turned Ariel, urging him into a gallop as they headed towards the house. The marquis followed, easily keeping pace with Elysia.

"Ariel is fast, Elysia, but Sheik is faster. You could not outrun me, you know." He grinned at her stubbornly set jaw, yet Elysia heard the warning in his voice.

Still, she was able to answer him casually. "Sheik is a beautiful horse, and more than likely he is faster than Ariel. Ariel has stamina—can you say the same of him?" she asked.

"I can push him hard, but very seldom will he lather up, or become winded. He can hold his own, never fear. I see you have been taught well how to ride. Jims was your family's groom since you were a child, no doubt. In truth, I must admit that I have seldom seen a better seat on a horse than you have, my dear," he was forced into acknowledging as he watched Elysia ride—a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Yes, Jims was a superb teacher, as was my father. But thank you, my lord, for the compliment," Elysia replied, flustered by his praise, and added reluctantly, "you handle Sheik extremely well, I have also noticed."

The marquis laughed loudly, in genuine amusement. "That is the first compliment my wife has paid me. This is indeed a historic occasion—not only do I find that my wife can nearly outride me, and on a horse that no one else can mount, but also that her acerb tongue has a light coating of sweetness when she so desires."

Elysia sent him a scowling look under drawn-together brows, but he continued to laugh deeply, ignoring her lifted chin. They rode on towards the big house in the distance, its mullioned windows reflecting the light from the pale morning sun as it struggled valiantly to dominate the cloudy sky.

Elysia breathed in awe as she stared down at Westerly, unaware of Trevegne's scrutiny until he asked with interest, "Do you really approve of my home? Most claim it to be too isolated and desolate to visit for long—let alone to live here."

"It is isolated, but then I have always lived in the country, and in less populated places than the Home Counties. I enjoy the wide open spaces in preference to crowded and noisy town life."

"There are certain advantages, like amusements, which are offered only by life in London."

"Yes, I am sure you have availed yourself of all the ‘amusements', my lord," Elysia paused delicately over the word. "However, if one can afford but one way of life…then I would much prefer life in the country than an existence in London. Those who have access to both ways of life can travel between the two when ennui sets in, which is indeed to be envied, for then you have the best of both worlds."

"My wife will envy no one," Trevegne said arrogantly, "for I have many estates, and a town-house in London which we shall make use of during the year. "

"I shall miss Westerly," Elysia confessed, a trifle begrudgingly. She felt reluctant to admit a liking for anything belonging to him. "It is an interesting house, especially the great hall, with its Spanish tiles and ornaments."

Trevegne smiled at her praise. "One could almost call the hall our trophy room. My ancestors enjoyed these objets d'art with an added enthusiasm—plunder from the sixteenth century. It was also rather daring to decorate one's hall with Spanish possessions and architecture when England was at war with Spain. One of my ancestors told Queen Elizabeth that he enjoyed feasting his eyes upon the bounties from the vanquished—rewards of a successful freebooter. I do believe he actually admired and cherished these Spanish trophies—recognizing some of them as priceless pieces of art," the marquis elaborated as he noticed Elysia's look of disquiet as he described his ancestors. "I wonder how my ancestors would have treated such a spirited wench as you, my dear? I rather doubt that you would have enjoyed it. Although I have heard that my ancestors were quite charming at Court, rivaling perhaps even Sir Walter Raleigh in gentlemanly courtesies."

"Apparently in that aspect you inherited very little, and too much perhaps of their pirate instincts," Elysia said.

"I knew it was too good to last—this false sweetness of yours. I shall have to prescribe a spoonful of honey each morning to help sweeten that sour disposition of yours," Trevegne told Elysia warningly, "for I am not accustomed to being talked back to in such a disrespectful manner. You will have to show a little more affection when in company, my dear. Try to act like the loving wife, and I shall pretend to be your devoted slave."

Elysia was saved from her angry retort by their entrance into the stable yard where Trevegne dismounted quickly and lifted Elysia down before she could protest. His hands felt possessive about her small waist as he held her close for a moment, and they stared into each other's eyes like protagonists. He flicked her lavender plume with a careless finger, and set her free as he sent a quelling glance to Jims who had been standing quietly, and apprehensively, in the doorway to the stables .

"Had I not known beforehand how bewitching my wife could be, Jims, you would now be on your way from Westerly, and all of Cornwall, for disobeying my orders. Elysia has a way of twisting a man about her little finger to get her way, and I would imagine she has had years of practice with you. But I shall expect my wishes to come first from now on. You answer to me, Jims."

Jims came forward, relief written across his face. "Aye, yer lordship, but I didn't think ye'd be mindin' her ridin' Ariel, seein' how Miss Elysia raised him from a colt. And they both looked as if they could use the exercise," he answered, smiling at Elysia. "Did ye and Ariel enjoy ye ride?"

"I can answer that for you," Trevegne said grimly. "I saw her and that damn horse racing madly across the moor, and could scarcely believe my eyes—and I had a damnable time catching them. In future, you will go out with a groom or myself—but never alone. And if I might inquire, why was she alone, Jims?" he asked softly, turning to Jims with a frown on his face.

"Didn't see any sense in it, yer lordship, seein' how Miss Elysia would've lost him," Jims answered practically.

"Sensible as always, Jims, but Lady Elysia is now my wife and in future she will ride with a groom—or not at all," he warned them both.

Jims chuckled, shaking his head as he watched them walk toward the house, making a striking-looking couple. The Demarices may not have desired the marquis as a husband for their daughter, but he was beginning to think that his lordship had just what Miss Elysia needed—a good firm hand to guide her. He might be a bit wild and have a bad reputation, but he was a cut above the rest, thought Jims, even though he was not the jovial sort of bloke who liked to joke around. He'd been surprised to hear of his lordship's marriage, but since it had been to Miss Elysia he could understand his lordship giving up being a bachelor. There was no one as lovely as his Miss Elysia. Must have been love at first sight, for he knew as well as anyone that Miss Elysia had no money, and his lordship was as rich as can be—anyway you could tell by the way he looked at her that he was crazy about her. Miss Elysia was a very lucky young lady, he thought, happily whistling a tune as he entered the stables.

* * *

Elysia shuddered as they entered the great hall with its obvious glories of war and bloodshed, and some of the beauty, which she had admired before, faded before her eyes as she glanced about.

As if divining her thoughts, Trevegne said, "It was a long time ago, and no ghosts linger within these walls."

"I know, but it still saddens me to think of these things having been taken from others," she commented, indicating a row of gold chalices encrusted with jewels, gleaming brightly in display, on a marble-topped pier table against one of the walls.

"There is always a victor—and a vanquished in any confrontation. You of all people should realize that," he said, taking her elbow firmly as he guided her up the broad staircase.

As they entered their salon, Elysia remembered that she had not thanked him for her new wardrobe from London, and she turned abruptly to face him, a shy smile curving her lips.

"I had forgotten, in my excitement at riding Ariel, to thank you for the clothes you had made for me so quickly in London. It was very kind of you," she added hesitantly.

"Kind? Hardly that, my dear. I merely did not want you to shame me in front of my friends, looking little better than a servant. In fact, my staff was better dressed than you, and they find enough to gossip about as it is," he explained in a bored voice.

"Oh, you're insufferable. I should have remembered you're heartless," Elysia said, the color flaming uncomfortably into her cheeks. "You shall never hear of me thanking you for anything again, your lordship ," she promised him as she ran from the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving Trevegne standing speechless where he was.

Elysia pulled her hat from her head and threw herself onto the bed, burying her head in her folded arms on the pillow. The beast, she thought angrily. Would she never understand him? One minute he jokes with her, then the next he kisses her, and then snaps her head off the following minute. Life was certainly not easy, she thought in dismay, as she remembered his passionate kisses on the moor. He was right, Elysia thought uneasily. She did want to be kissed by him—at least sometimes she felt this strange need for him, but most of the time she felt as if she could have callously murdered him—feeling no regrets.

Elysia rubbed her forehead wearily and stood up. How could she possibly want to be kissed by someone so cruel? she thought in exasperation. She despised herself for her weakness. She ought to put on one of her old woolens, and see what his lordship would have to say to that, she thought defiantly. Elysia looked through the rows of dresses, but couldn't find them among the peacock colors, nor could she find her old shoes or cloak. Dany must have thrown them out when they put away her new ones.

She did not really want to wear them again, even if it would anger him. She was struggling with her boots when Lucy appeared with a couple of chambermaids, carrying a tub and pails of hot water.

"Mrs. Danfield thought ye'd be wantin' to freshen up after ye ride, Lady Elysia," she said timidly, staring at Elysia as if she were a ghost.

"Thank you, and would you help me off with my boots?" she asked Lucy as the girl slowly came forward, looking frightened.

"What is the matter?" Elysia demanded as the two chambermaids stared goggle-eyed.

"Oh nothing, Lady Elysia," Lucy mumbled, helping Elysia unlace her boots with shaking fingers.

"Tell me, Lucy," Elysia persisted, seeing the girl shake at the contact with her ankle.

"Oh, yer ladyship! Ye rode the horse. The one even his lordship can't ride and he be almost like the devil himself." She rolled her eyes nervously.

"Listen, Lucy, and both of you too. I won't have you go telling tales around the house," Elysia said to the other two who stood cowering together. "That horse, before he came here, belonged to me. I raised him from a baby with wobbly legs and downy-like coat. He has only known me, and will only allow me to ride him," she explained patiently, watching the relief come to the three faces, "and you know Jims, you trust him?" They nodded their capped heads. "Well he has known me since I was a baby, and can vouch for my lack of any mystical powers." Elysia held her hands out in supplication.

The three girls smiled and giggled as they began to prepare her bath, Lucy helping efficiently when Elysia dressed afterwards.

If only she really did have mystical powers, then she would find a way out of this situation she was in, taking care of his lordship once and for all in the process, Elysia thought with relish, as she walked slowly downstairs. She wore a white muslin dress embroidered with green and blue flowers and tied with green velvet ribbons beneath her breasts. The ends trailed down her back to the hem, with similar bandings around the ruffled cuffs of the long sleeves and high neck. Her hair had been dressed high on her head á la Grecque, the thick red-gold curls cascading about her shoulder. Odd how new clothes could give one a feeling of confidence and self-respect. She need no longer feel ashamed of her appearance—nor need anyone else.

Elysia walked soundlessly across the tiled floor of the great hall in her green kid slippers. A footman opened the door of the salon, and upon entering, Elysia saw the marquis in conversation with a thick-set gentleman sitting comfortably in one of the chairs before the fire. They stood up as Elysia entered, Trevegne's golden eyes going over her figure with approval as she came forward.

"My wife, Lady Elysia," the marquis said with what almost sounded like pride in his voice. But she knew better than to believe that. "Elysia, may I introduce you to our nearest neighbor, Squire Blackmore."

The squire took Elysia's hand and bowed awkwardly. "A pleasure, Lady Elysia, and may I commend you, Trevegne, on your wife's beauty."

The marquis nodded his head arrogantly in acceptance of the compliment, while Elysia wondered what he had to do with her looks. She sat down demurely with a serene smile on her lips, listening to the garrulous Squire Blackmore's ramblings.

"I could scarcely believe my ears when I heard in London that you had finally been caught, Trevegne. Louisa will be heartbroken," he expostulated loudly as if he still found it hard to believe.

"And how did you come to hear the news?" Trevegne asked curiously.

"Well, it was in the Gazette , but I heard about it first in the shops," he said baldly.

"In the shops?" Trevegne questioned in surprise, and then laughed.

"Well, you did order quite a trousseau for your bride, and wanted it in an uncommon hurry, so I've heard. It's bound to get around," he explained apologetically to Elysia, who was glaring at the marquis's amused expression.

"You heard nothing else—except that I had wed?" he suddenly asked quietly.

Squire Blackmore looked ill at ease for a moment, his close-set eyes darting about the room nervously. "Well, not much really. You know how there is always some rumor going the rounds, your lordship." He laughed immoderately, sending Elysia another apologetic glance.

"Still can't believe it," he said to Elysia, "had hopes for a match with his lordship and my daughter Louisa. Crazy about him, she is. Of course, I perfectly understand why he married your ladyship, yes indeed."

He stood up quickly as if he had suddenly thought of something. "Well, I must take my leave, however I wanted to wish you my felicitations and ask you to dine with us one evening. I just arrived from London a few hours ago, along with several guests who are now resting from the long journey. Please come, although we shall understand if you prefer to be alone," he said ingratiatingly, bowing flamboyantly. "Lady Elysia, a pleasure—Trevegne."

They watched him scurry off, leaving the room before the footman Trevegne had rung for could see him to the door.

"It certainly did not take long for it to reach London," he commented as he lit a cheroot. "However I really had expected the good squire before now. I am rather disappointed."

"Why had you expected Squire Blackmore?'

"Because, my dear wife, the squire has had hopes of marrying his daughter—Louisa, I believe he called her—off to me for the past few years. In fact, had I not met you so…unexpectedly, then I might have considered the girl. She had a few good points in her favor, if I remember her correctly. Very quiet, and unassuming, in fact one would hardly know she was around. Quite the opposite of you, my dear; but the only drawback of course would be to find myself related to the squire—too much to contemplate, even in conjecture."

"What a pity I have no intention of obliging you, and turning amenable," Elysia smiled sweetly up at him, the smile not reaching her green eyes.

"Never fear that you have disappointed me, my dear, for I seldom play long odds, and only then if it is a sure thing. With you, my dear, I am never sure of anything," he smiled crookedly. "Although I must say, the squire acted rather well at masking what must have been a shattering disappointment, considering his ambitions have been ruined by your existence."

"I do believe you enjoy seeing the hopes of others destroyed."

"No, not really. But the squire has made rather a nuisance of himself, trying to foist off his daughter on me, merely to achieve his own desires of having a titled son-in-law, and adding my money and estates to his. Unfortunately for him, my estates are willed to my heirs—he would not be able to touch them."

"I cannot understand you. You have wealth, looks, and your health. Yet you despise everyone. Why is it? Maybe it is really that you despise yourself and what you have become," Elysia told him boldly, staring into those flaming golden eyes .

He grabbed her arms in a tight grip, almost growling as he said, "Do not push me too far, Elysia, for you are, after all, married to that thing that I've become." He pushed her away and stalked out of the room, leaving her standing alone and shaken.