She took a step toward him. "Of what?"

Hugh studied the drawing for a moment. When he looked up at last, his golden eyes gleamed. "I believe this may be a drawing of the passages of the caves of Scarcliffe. Or at least of those passages that Calvert had time to explore."

Alice hurried to where Hugh stood. She gazed down at the lines on the map. "Look, my lord, he marked several of the tunnels. See, here, he has indicated that these two passages are empty." She glanced at Hugh. "Empty of what, do you suppose?"

"I do not believe that our monk spent all of his time praying in these caverns. It appears that he was searching for something. There is only one treasure that would lure a man into these caves."

"The stones of Scarcliffe," Alice whispered, amazed.

"Aye. Mayhap he was murdered for them."



"You sent for me, sir?" Julian paused in the doorway of Hugh's study chamber.

"Aye." Hugh put aside his journal of accounts. "Enter, Julian. I wish to speak with you."

"I trust you are not going to send me off to London with a message before the marriage feast this afternoon." Julian sauntered into the chamber and stood before Hugh's desk. "I have been looking forward to the banquet. The food has greatly improved around here in recent days. Have you noticed?"

Hugh narrowed his eyes. "I have noticed. But I did not send for you in order to discuss the well-spiced dishes that now grace my table."

"Of course not." Julian smiled blandly. "I trust that you know who to thank for the excellent meals we all enjoy."

"Nor do I need any more pointed observations on the well-organized manner in which this household is now functioning. I have had a surfeit of such comments. I am well aware that the improvements are the result of my betrothed's skills in the business of household management."

"Naturally," Julian murmured. "Then how may I serve you, my lord?"

Hugh drummed his fingers on the desk. "You have a certain facility with graceful compliments and flowery words, do you not, Julian?"

Julian affected an air of modesty. "I do dabble a bit in poetry and I have written several songs, sir."

"Excellent. I need a list of compliments."

Julian looked baffled. "A list?"

"Three or four should do nicely."

Julian cleared his throat. "Uh, what sort of compliments do you prefer, my lord? Would you like me to concentrate on your skills with a sword or your triumphs in battle? I can do a nice line or two about your loyalty and honor."

Hugh stared at him. "What in the name of the devil are you talking about?"

"You said you wanted compliments, my lord."

"Not for myself," Hugh snapped. "For my betrothed."

Laughter appeared in Julian's eyes. "Ah. I see."

Hugh clasped his hands on the desk and frowned in concentration. "I am skilled at many things, messenger, but not at inventing the sort of compliments that please ladies. I wish you to draw up a list of pretty phrases that I may memorize and speak to my bride. Do you comprehend me?"

"Aye, my lord." Julian smiled complacently. "And may I say, sir, that, as always, you have employed the most skilled artisan for the task. I promise that you will not be disappointed."



The following night Alice paced the carpet of Hugh's large bedchamber and tried to still the fluttery sensation in her belly. She had never felt more unsettled in her life than she was at this moment. She and Hugh were no longer partners in a bargain, they were husband and wife.

She stalked past the fire and paused once more at the door, listening for the sound of footsteps in the hall. She had dismissed her women almost an hour ago. Hugh should have come to her by now.

She wondered if he was deliberately making her wait, thinking to arouse her passions to a fever pitch. If that was his purpose, she thought, he was due for a surprise.

She was not growing more lovesick by the moment. She was becoming quite irritated.

She had had enough of Hugh's clever stratagems, she thought resentfully. It had been a very long day.

It had begun with the burial of Calvert of Oxwick. He had been laid to rest in the small graveyard behind the village church. Alice, Benedict, Hugh, and Joan had been the only ones present. The priest, Geoffrey, who had accompanied Hugh and Benedict to Scarcliffe, said the prayers for the dead over the grave. No one had shed any tears.

A few hours later, shortly before noon, Geoffrey had conducted the wedding service in front of the church door.

The endless festivities and an elaborate banquet had followed. Alice was so exhausted from smiling and being gracious to everyone that she had thought to fall asleep the instant she got anywhere near a bed.

But the moment she had been left alone in the bedchamber to await Hugh a deep uncertainty had driven out her exhaustion. She stopped pacing and went to sit on a stool in front of the fire. She gazed into the flames and tried to envision her future.

It appeared shrouded in a fog that was not unlike the mist that clung to Scarcliffe that day. There was only one clear certainty.

She was Hugh's wife.

A small shiver went through her. Alice drew the folds of her night robe more closely around her. All her plans for the future had been irrevocably altered. There was no going back, no changing her mind. She was committed.

The door opened without warning behind her.

She turned her head quickly as Hugh entered the chamber. "Welcome, my lord."

She was relieved to note that he was alone. Apparently Hugh had decided to eschew the custom of a boisterous escort to the bridal bed.

"Good evening… wife." Hugh lingered over the last word, as though he found it of great interest.

His black leather boots made no sound on the carpet as he came toward her. He was truly a creature of the night, a dark sorcerer who absorbed the firelight and gave off shadows.

He wore one of the new black tunics embroidered with amber thread that Alice had had made for him. His black hair was brushed straight back from his high forehead. His eyes were brooding in the firelight.

Alice jumped to her feet. She glanced at the table where two cups and a flagon had been set out. "Would you care for some wine?"

"Aye. Thank you." Hugh stopped in front of the fire. He held out his hands to the blaze and watched Alice as she poured the wine. He cleared his throat.

"Have I ever told you that your hair is the color of a brilliant sunset in that moment before it is enveloped by the night?" Hugh asked quite casually.

The flagon trembled in Alice's hand. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks. "Nay, my lord. You never mentioned it."

" 'Tis true."

"Thank you, my lord."

Hugh's brows rose as the wine splashed into a cup. "You are anxious."

"Is that so very strange under the circumstances, sir?"

He shrugged. "Mayhap not for most women, but you are not like most women, Alice."

"And you are not like most men, sir." She turned to him with the cup in her hand.

His fingers brushed lightly against hers as he took the wine. "In what way am I different from other men?"

This was not the sort of conversation she had planned to have on her wedding night, Alice thought. She wondered if he expected a serious answer to his question or if he was engaged in some new stratagem designed to disconcert her.

"You are more intelligent than the other men I have known," she said cautiously. "Deeper. More difficult to comprehend at times and yet, at other times, much clearer."

"Is that why you married me?" Hugh met her eyes over the rim of the wine cup. "Because I am more clever than other men? More interesting? Do I intrigue your curiosity? Arouse your questioning nature? Do you regard me as an unusual object, one worthy of adding to your collection, mayhap?"

A trickle of unease went through Alice. She was suddenly very wary. "Nay, not precisely."

Hugh began to prowl the chamber, wine cup in hand. "Did you marry me because I proved useful?"

She frowned. "Nay."

"I did rescue you and your brother from your uncle's hall," he reminded her.

"Aye, but I did not marry you because of that."

"Was it to gain permanent possession of the green stone, mayhap?" Hugh asked.

"Of course not." Alice scowled. "What a ridiculous notion, my lord. I would hardly marry merely to possess that strange bit of crystal."

"Are you certain?"

"Quite certain," Alice said through set teeth.

Hugh paused near one of the posts of the huge, black bed. He smiled his dangerous smile. "Was it because of the passion, then?"

Anger flared in Alice. "You are taunting me again, sir."

"I merely seek information."

"Bah. You believe that I would wed you simply for the pleasure of a few kisses?"

"Not for the kisses alone," he mused, "but for what follows upon them. You are possessed of a most passionate nature, madam."

"Sir, this has gone much too far."

"And there is your great curiosity." His voice roughened. "Your appetite for sensuality has been whetted and you wish to experience more of it. The only practical way of doing so is in the marriage bed, is that not true?"

Alice was stunned. "You did it deliberately, did you not? 'Twas all a stratagem. I had begun to suspect as much."

"What did you suspect?"

"That you kissed me and touched me and made love to me until I was breathless because you thought to ensnare me with passion."

"If you think that what you have experienced thus far is interesting, wait until you discover how much more there is to learn of the subject. Mayhap you should keep a pen and some parchment beside the bed so that you can record your observations."