'Well, then,' she said, setting her teacup on its saucer, 'you just go on up whenever you're ready. I don't suppose you can come to any harm up there. The furniture is all in the same place, I think.'

'I'll let you know,' I told her, grinning. I would know soon enough, I thought, if I tried to walk through that huge four-poster bed. A sudden thought hit me and I frowned. 'These ... experiences of mine,' I said, slowly, 'they sometimes last a few hours. If I'm not finished when you want to leave, then ...'

'... then I shall leave the lights on for you and lock the doors,' she promised. 'You know how to unlatch the side door, don't you? Good. I'd rather not interrupt you, once you get going. If you just leave the side-door latch turned to the right, it will lock itself behind you when you leave.'

I smiled at her gratefully. 'Thank you. Well'—I pushed myself to my feet, a little nervous—'wish me luck.'

The great, echoing rooms of the manor house felt even more cavernous than usual, empty and yet not empty. I could feel the press of unseen bodies crowding me as I climbed the staircase, and anticipation hung like cobwebs from every corner. Expectantly, silently, the spirits of Crofton Hall waited, watching me approach the doorway of the Cavalier bedroom.

It was a darker room without the sunlight. Raindrops chased each other down the windowpanes and clung to the casement before falling to the lawn below. The church tower was little more than a dark, square shadow rising above the paler shadow of the churchyard wall, before which lawn and rose garden blended into a watery blur, green and mauve and dull, dull brown. Keeping my eyes fixed on that view, I stepped farther into the room, clenching my fists without thinking.

The feeling, when it came, hit me with the force of a tidal wave and brought my chin up with a jerk. Anxiety, and pain, and panic, emotions tumbling one over the other with a soul-searing urgency. No, my mind pleaded of its own accord, racing madly, no, no, no----

The ringing in my ears increased to an unbearable pitch, my every nerve vibrating with the feel of it, and then suddenly, as suddenly as if a door had been slammed upon it, the noise stopped, and I was left in peaceful silence. I opened my eyes.

The lawn stretched out before me in the sunlight, distorted slightly by the panes of window glass, green and lush and level, broken only by the sweep of dusty drive to the right and the intricate meanderings of the rose garden to the left. Not far from the house, in one of the high spreading oak trees, a bird was singing the same sweet, wavering notes, over and over, nature's plainsong.

Behind me, Richard shifted his position on the bed. I could feel him watching me.

'What are you thinking?' His voice was low, tinged with sleep. The voice of a lover. I gathered the rough folds of the shawl more closely round my naked shoulders and shrugged, a tiny gesture.

'Everything,' I told him, 'and nothing.'

'And which am I?'

Everything, I could have told him, but the words caught in my throat. I turned from the window to look at him, lying there with his shoulders propped against the bolster, his chest wide and brown above the white linen, his hands laced neatly across his flat stomach. It was an attitude of masculine self-satisfaction, and yet his eyes looked oddly vulnerable, uncertain.

I misinterpreted that look. 'Is it your wish that I should leave you now?'

'Why would you think that of me?' His eyebrows rose, the vulnerability gone. 'You are not a servant, Mariana, to be thus ordered from my sight.'

'No,' I admitted, looking down at my feet, 'I am not a servant. I am a mistress. A minor difference, I'll grant you.' His eyes were steady on my face. 'You are my love,' he corrected me, softly, 'and there is no shame in that. Do you wish this afternoon undone?'

I raised my head. 'No,' I told him honestly.

'I will not force you to my bed,' he said. 'I do not want a frightened woman, nor a coy one, but one who gives me love because she wills it so. If I make no promises, it is because the world is an uncertain place, and words matter little. But if you doubt the honour of my love, come'—he stretched his hand toward me, palm upward—'let me renew my pledge.'

I went to him, as blindly as a flower seeking sunlight, and the shawl fell forgotten from my shoulders as he drew me down to his embrace. It was a tender lovemaking, with none of the urgent passion of before, and when it was over he held me close, my head against his heart, his hand tangled in my hair.

'And what think you now?' he asked me, lazily.

I smiled. 'I think my uncle's absences may not be frequent enough.'

He laughed, twisting a strand of my hair round his fingers. 'Your uncle returns tomorrow, you said?'

I nodded. 'He left soon after you did. I have forgotten to ask you, how was your journey? How is the king?'

'He was well when I left him yesterday,' Richard replied. 'He kindly recalled my father's service, and bid me sup with him, but I was tired and eager to return home, and besides, the Court is no place for a gentleman.' I sensed his smile. 'Faith, you worry about the propriety of having one lover. At Court you would be considered uncommonly prim.'

'One lover is all I need,' I said, snuggling deeper into his chest.

' 'Tis all you'll have.'

'And when my uncle promises me in marriage to some merchant?' I shifted my head, curious. 'What will happen then?'

'I'd not allow it. I'd marry you myself.' His arm tightened. 'I will not lose you.'