The wind raked over the roof and made the cap on the stovepipe rattle like distant chains, reminding Jessica of her childhood in Scotland, when she had hidden in the kitchen with the scullery maids because she could no longer bear the sounds coming from her father’s suite of rooms. It had been a very long time since Jessica had thought of such things. She didn’t wish to begin now.

Humming to shut out both the wind and her darkly stirring memories, Jessica set to work. The air she hummed was one of her favorites, «BonnieLaddie, HighlandLaddie.» The words had always stuck her as over-simple, but the melody had a fine lilt that lifted her spirits. The more fiercely the wind blew, the more loudly Jessica sang her lively, wordless song, opening and closing cupboards as she searched for the coffeepot.

After opening every cupboard, peering in, and holding the smoky lamp aloft, Jessica still hadn’t found anything that resembled the graceful sterling silver urns Lord Robert’s servants had taken coffee from. Nor did she find anything like the small, plump sterling silver pots or tissue-thin china that had been used for service in the bedroom.

«Blazes,» she muttered.

Jessica began the search and the song all over again. Halfway through the cupboard, she sensed that she was no longer alone in the room. She spun around.

Wolfe was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest and an odd expression on his face.

«That song…» he said.

«’BonnieLaddie, HighlandLaddie ’. It’s a rather silly air about a Scotsman wearing a cap.»

Wolfe cleared his throat and tried not to reveal the laughter that was shaking him. «Of course. It’s been so long since I heard the original words, I’d forgotten.»

He made a strangled sound and looked away from a moment.

«Are you well, Wolfe?»

Silently, Wolfe struggled not to smile.

«I know my voice isn’t of stage quality,» Jessica said, smiling wryly, «but no one has ever laughed at it before. However, if it amuses you so, I’ll sing more often.»

«I doubt the verses you know would be as amusing as the ones I know.» Wolfe watched Jessica tilt her head and look at him with wide aquamarine eyes. «You look like a cat when you watch me with such stillness.»

The intensity of Wolfe’s eyes made Jessica’s breath catch in her throat. An odd sensation trembled in the pit of her stomach, as though he were stroking her hair. But he wasn’t touching her. He was simply watching her.

With an effort, she forced herself to speak. «What verses do you know that I don’t?»

«Many.»

«Wonderful. Teach me and we’ll sing together.»

Wolfe compressed his lips against the smile that threatened to overwhelm his efforts at self-control. «The verses I know would horrify you.»

«Why?»

«They deal with Adam’s staff, among other things,» Wolfe said blandly.

Jessica looked blank. «Why would talk of Adam’s staff horrify me?»

«It’s also celebrated as a flea shooter, a hoe, a fishing rod, a drummer’s stick, a Roman candle, a branding iron, a dagger, a sword, a dowsing rod, a ramrod, a pistol and, lately, a repeating rifle.» Wolfe’s voice vibrated with suppressed laughter. «There are other names as well. Many names. And for each one, a verse to the tune you were singing.»

Jessica frowned. «A tool for many purposes, is that it?»

Wolfe gave up the fight, tipped back his head, and laughed without restraint.

The rich, masculine sounds made Jessica feel as though she was standing close to a fire. Some of the tension seeped slowly from her. The feeling of relief was almost dizzying, telling her how much she had feared that she would never be able to make her husband smile again.

«As you say,» Wolfe managed finally, «anallpurpose tool. Fortunately, Eve was equally well endowed.»

Jessica blinked. «I beg your pardon?»

«Adam’s staff had its complement in Eve.»

«I don’t understand.»

«Eve had a fertile field for Adam to till,» Wolfe said gravely, «a shadowed pool for him to fish, a deep well to be discovered by his dowsing rod, a supple sheath for his knife or sword to lie within…ah, the sunrise of understanding shines pinkly on your face.»

Blushing, Jessica covered her mouth with her hands, but couldn’t prevent the sound of her giggles from escaping. Her laughter was contagious, setting off Wolfe again. Soon Jessica was laughing so hard she had to hang onto the cupboard door or fall.

Wolfe was little better off. It had been years since he had teased Jessica until they were both weak with laughter. He hadn’t known how much life had lacked until this moment.

«I’ve missed you,» he admitted before he could think better of it.

«Not as much as I missed you.»

«Did you?»

«Oh, yes,» she said, blotting tears of laughter from her eyes. «When you’re with me, I never hear the wind.»

«What an odd reason to miss someone.»

«Elves are odd creatures.»

Wolfe looked at the row of open cupboard doors. «Yes, they are. Why were you going through the cupboards, elf?»

«I was looking for your coffeepot.»

«It’s on the stove.»

Jessica straightened and stared at the pot-bellied stove. She saw nothing but a battered container that looked like a tall, rather narrow pot. It was wider at the bottom than the top and had a slight flare on the rim. A wire handle stood upright above the lid.

«A coffeepot on the stove,» she said neutrally.

«Umm.»

The sound Wolfe made was rather like that of a very large, contented cat. Jessica glanced at him from beneath thick auburn lashes.

«How does this coffeepot work?»

«Quite simply. You fill the pot with water, put it on the stove to boil, add coffee grounds, boil for a time, and then add cold water to settle the grounds.»

«Ah,» she breathed, brightening. «Simple indeed.»

Jessica went to the stove, took the lid off the pot, and looked around for a pitcher of water. There was none.

«Water comes from pumps,» Wolfe said. «You do know what a pump looks like, don’t you?»

«You’re teasing me.»

«I’m not sure. Elves are unpredictable creatures. It’s difficult to be certain what they know.»

Jessica hadn’t ever used a pump, but she certainly had seen one used. She went to the sink, set the pot down beneath the pump’s spout, and picked up the long iron pump handle. She had to go up on her tiptoes to lift the handle to its fullest.

«Wait.»

Jessica froze, teetered, and began to lose her balance. Before she could topple andaccidently bring the pump handle down, Wolfe rushed forward and snatched her off her feet. She made a startled sound.

«You forgot something,» he said calmly.

She looked into midnight blue eyes that were intriguingly close to her own, for Wolfe had lifted her until her head was on a level with his.

«What did I forget?»

«You didn’t prime the pump.»

The blank look Jessica gave Wolfe told him that she didn’t know what he was talking about. He started to set her down, but her small, warm waist felt too good between his hands to let go of just yet.

«See that pitcher of water next to the pump?» Wolfe asked.

The deepening of his voice ruffled Jessica’s nerves in a way she liked without knowing why. She nodded. He shifted her suddenly, turning her away from him. The breathless sound she made was lost in his words.

«Pick up the pitcher, elf.»

She leaned across the counter, and in doing so, pressed her bottom into the cradle of Wolfe’s thighs. He closed his eyes and told himself to put her down. Instead, his hands tightened around her, savoring the supple warmth of her against the ache of male hunger and need that had concentrated between his thighs.

«Now pour the water into the opening at the top of the pump,» he said a low voice.

The motions Jessica made pressed her more intimately against Wolfe’s hungry flesh. Water splashed and danced, shimmering in the lantern light. Belatedly, Wolfe remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He shifted Jessica again, holding her against his body with one arm while the other worked the handle of the pump. Soon water gushed out of the pump’s spout and into the coffeepot until it overflowed.

«That,» Wolfe said, letting Jessica slide down his body until her feet touched the floor, «is called priming a pump.»

Ruefully, he acknowledged that the pump wasn’t the only thing that had been primed during the lesson, but he could hardly blame Jessica for that. She hadn’t known what she was doing when she pressed her backside against his groin until he could feel the very feminine flare of her hips beneath all the folds of cloth in her traveling dress.

«Why did you do that?» she asked.

For an instant, Wolfe thought Jessica was referring to the change that had taken place in his body while he held her; then he realized she was talking about the pump. He opened his mouth to answer, but the thought of explaining to a wide-eyed elf the intricacies of suction, pressure, and pumping involved in the mechanism — while at the same time his body was on fire — defeated Wolfe.

«Think of it as a religious ritual,» he said finally.

Jessica tilted her head back to look up at him and realized anew just how large her husband was. Yet being held by him hadn’t frightened her or made her uneasy in any way. In fact, it had been very nice, as had seeing his eyes so close to hers and feeling the warmth of his breath on her cheek. The hard strength of his arm supporting her had been even more appealing, as had been the power and motion of his body as he worked the pump. Soft sensations shimmered through her at the thought of being held that way again.