The correspondence between the two women, nourished by their mutual interest in flowers and herbs, had flourished during the past year. Last fall Clare had been delighted and deeply honored when Abbess Helen had journeyed to Desire for a short visit.

The Abbess had stayed at the hall, rather than at Saint Hermione's, and she and Clare had stayed up very late every night. They had talked for hours, discussing every conceivable subject.

But Joanna was right. As intelligent and learned as Abbess Helen undeniably was, she had never been a wife.

She could not know much about the intimate side of marriage.

Clare studied the tip of her quill while she tried to find a tactful way to ask her next question. "Did you ever develop any feelings of, uh, warmth for Sir Thomas, Joanna?"

Joanna snorted. "Few women find passion in the marriage bed, Clare. Nor should they seek it. Tis a frivolous thing, passion. A woman marries for other, far more important reasons."

"Aye, I'm only too well aware of that." But still, she had hoped to find some warm feelings in her marriage bed, Clare thought wistfully. And with Gareth's kiss still burning her lips, she sensed she might find such feelings with him.

How could that be? she wondered. Other than the ability to read, which Gareth claimed to possess, he did not appear to be made up of any of the ingredients she had specified in her recipe for a husband.

She could not begin to comprehend why she had responded so unquestioningly to his embrace.

"I shall be honest with you," Joanna said. "Thomas was thirty years older than me and he had little patience with a new bride. Our wedding night was unpleasant but bearable, as it is for most women.

One gets past it and it is done. After that, I grew accustomed to the business and so will you."

Clare groaned. "I know you are trying to encourage me, Joanna, but you are not succeeding."

"It is not like you to complain about your responsibilities, Clare."

"I do not complain without reason. Sir Gareth has virtually ordered the wedding to take place the day after tomorrow. Thurston's letter gives him the authority to insist."

"What did you expect?" Joanna sighed. "Tis no surprise, I suppose."

"Nay." Clare got to her feet and went to stand at the window. "I wish I had more time. It is the one thing I crave most at the moment. I would pay dearly for it."

"Do you think that time would make much difference? Sir Nicholas grows more encroaching by the day. You have lost the last two shipments of perfumes to thieves. You have said yourself that Desire needs a lord who can protect it."

"Aye. But I need a husband whom I can tolerate in my bed and at my table for the rest of my life."

A strange panic welled up inside Clare. The rest of her life.

"What makes you think it will be impossible for you to tolerate Sir Gareth?"

"That's the problem," Clare whispered. "I simply do not know yet whether he and I can come to some sort of accommodation. I have only just met the man. All I have learned about him thus far is that he meets only one of my requirements. Apparently he can read."

"That is something."

"I need more time, Joanna."

"What will that buy? You have known from the first that you were unlikely to contract a marriage that was also a love match. Few women in your position enjoy that opportunity."

"Aye, but I had hoped for a marriage that would be based on friendship and the pleasures of shared interests." Clare chewed reflectively on her lower lip. "Perhaps that was too much to ask. Nevertheless, if I just had a bit more time, I believe I could…"

"Could what?" Joanna eyed her uneasily. "I do not like that expression on your face, Clare. You are scheming again, are you not? You are concocting plans in the same manner with which you create new perfumes.

Do not trouble yourself with the effort. In this instance I fear there is no time for such alchemic cleverness."

"Mayhap, but it occurs to me that I might be able to delay events if I could convince Sir Gareth that he must allow himself some time."

Joanna looked astonished. "Time for what?"

"Time to discover whether or not he will be truly content to settle down here as lord of Desire." Clare recalled Gareth's cautiously neutral attitude toward the rose-scented soap he had used in his bath. "I do not believe he has given much thought to what it will mean to become the lord of an isle of flowers."

"You are hoping that a man who has made his living fighting murderers and outlaws may conclude that becoming a gardener is a somewhat dull prospect?"

"It is a possibility."

Joanna shook her head. "I doubt it. At the moment, I suspect that all Sir Gareth can think about is the prospect of becoming lord of his own rich lands."

"But what if I could convince him that he himself needs time for some calm reflection V Clare swung around, suddenly enthusiastic about her new notion. "He is an intelligent man, the sort who thinks carefully and plans well before he acts."

"You are certain of this?"

"Oh, yes, absolutely." Clare did not pause to consider how she could be so sure of her analysis. "If I can convince him that he should consider long and well on the matter of this marriage, I shall be able to secure the time I want."

"How will you use that time?"

"First, to become better acquainted with him," Clare said. " 'Twill be useful if we do go forward with the marriage. I would at least know more about my husband before I am obliged to share a bedchamber with him. Second, if I discover that I simply cannot bear the thought of tying myself to Sir Gareth for life, my scheme will provide me with an opportunity to discover a way out of the dilemma."

"It will not work, Clare. From what I can learn, the Hellhound is eager to be wed. He wants to claim his bride and his new lands immediately."

"But mayhap I can persuade him to hold off for a while."

"How will you do that?"

"By telling him that I will not search for any other candidates for the position of lord of Desire while he himself is considering the post."

"You do not know much about men, Clare. Trust me, your scheme is hopeless."

"You cannot know that," Clare insisted. "At the moment, a goodly portion of the Hellhound's eagerness for this match is based on his belief that I am uneasy about the poor selections that have been offered to me. But if he can be convinced that I will not attempt to find another to replace him until he has contemplated the matter further, he might be willing to postpone the wedding."

"Highly unlikely."

"Why must you take such a gloomy view, Joanna?" Clare broke off at the sound of hoofbeats in the distance. She went back to the window.

"What is it?" Joanna asked.

"A small party of men is approaching from the village." Clare peered at the cloud of dust in the distance. She spotted a familiar yellow banner.

"Oh, no."

"Clare?"

"By the hem of Saint Hermione's gown, I have never known a man to show poorer timing. What an idiot he is."

"Who?"

"Sir Nicholas."

"Oh, no, surely not." Joanna rose from the stool and hurried to the window. Her mouth tightened at the sight of the party of mounted men. "I vow, this could prove to be somewhat awkward."

"That is putting it mildly."

"Do you think that Sir Gareth knows anything about the kidnapping?"

"How could he?" Clare frowned. "We hushed the matter up quite thoroughly. I made it clear to everyone that I had been a willing visitor to Seabern Keep. And I did not mention the incident in my letter to Lord Thurston. Sir Gareth cannot be aware of it."

"I hope you're right," Joanna said grimly. "Because if the Hellhound of Wyckmere is given cause to believe that his bride has been ravished by another man, I fear there will be the devil himself to pay."

A sudden thought struck Clare. "Do you think that he would withdraw his suit if he were to learn that I had been kidnapped?"

Joanna looked alarmed. "Now, Clare?"

"Mayhap a previously ravished bride would not be to Sir Gareth's taste.

He is a very proud man for one who was born a bastard." Clare paused.

"Or mayhap because of that fact."

Joanna scowled. "Do not even contemplate such a notion. There is no telling what would happen were Sir Gareth to suspect the worst, and I, for one, do not want to find out."

"Hmmm," Clare said. She turned toward the door.

"What are you going to do?" Joanna called after her.

"I am going to welcome our visitors, of course. What else?"

"Clare, I beg of you, promise me that you will not do anything rash."

"I vow, you are beginning to sound just like Beatrice the recluse with all your warnings and dire prophecies."

Clare gave her a quick, reassuring smile. "Do not fret. I shall consider carefully before I move the next piece in this game of chess."

She hurried out the door and along the corridor to the stone steps in the corner tower. She flew down them to the great room of the hall, where confusion and alarm seemed to reign.

Eadgar came up to her, his face creased in lines of grave anxiety. "Tis Sir Nicholas and several of his household knights, my lady. They are already in the courtyard. What am I to do with them?"

"We shall first determine why they have come from Seabern without any notice. Then we shall invite them to sup with us and stay the night."

"The night?" Eadgar looked almost faint at the thought. "But we have a house full of guests. There is no room for any more."