Separating from him left her feeling cold, as if she'd gotten thoroughly chilled and would never be completely warm again. And shaky…hideously vulnerable-an appalling weakness she tried to hide from Nikolas by pretending not to notice the helping hand he offered, busying herself gathering up snack papers and brushing off cracker crumbs instead. Fooling no one. Wondering, as she handed him the unopened tin of shortbread cookies and the half-eaten bag of Cheese Doodles, what had happened to her appetite. Now, she was hungry for nothing at all except him.

It grew lighter as they climbed the stairs, pale gray light from curtainless windows spilling from open doorways all along the landing. In the large common rooms nearest the stairs. Rhia caught glimpses of stepladders and draping drop-cloths, and smelled the faint but unmistakable odor of fresh paint. Farther down the landing, though, shadowy hallways led to wings that housed the private rooms, where the work of renovation hadn't commenced yet. They poked their heads into all of them, while Nikolas provided commentary and hurried them from one to the next like a tour guide in desperate need of a bathroom break.

"Bedroom…bedroom…hmm, with adjoining sitting room. I see-and a dressing room as well… Lovely. This would be the nursery. I suppose. And a schoolroom-what fun. Hmm… bathrooms seem to be in rather short supply, don't they? Ah- what do we have here?"

He had opened the last door, which seemed to be wider than the rest. As Rhia caught up with him. he pushed it back and strode into the room like the returning lord of the manor. "The master suite, I believe. What do you think, my love? Will this do?" He turned to smile at her, a strange tense smile that showed his teeth but didn't reach his eyes.

"Do? This room is bigger than my whole apartment." Rhia muttered as she wandered past him. threading her way among the shrouded furniture shapes to the tall multipaned windows that graced two adjoining walls. A corner room, obviously. The view would be breathtaking, she thought, without the fog.

She heard a thump behind her, and turned to see that Nikolas had dropped the duffel bag onto a sheet-draped chair. Before she could stop him, he had energetically whisked the dust sheets off the bed-typical man!-sending a small dust blizzard into the air. They both erupted in laughing, coughing fits, and Rhia was about to choke out a teasing remark of some kind-Good job, Donovan!-when he suddenly went still. Simply froze, with the back of one hand touching his mouth and his eyes staring over it at something she couldn't see. Something near the foot of the bed.

"What is it?" She pushed her way back to him through the shapeless mounds of furniture, heart already quickening, nerves and senses snapping to full attention.

The shocked and frozen look on his face was the same one she'd seen there when the king's guard had carried in the chest that held the proof of his identity.

She touched his hand-not surprised to find it cold as ice-and said softly. "Nik, what's wrong?"

Instead of answering, he moved slowly toward the foot of the bed. which was the old-fashioned kind, small in width by modern standards, but so high it would require steps to get in and out of easily, with four tall posts and a canopy frame soaring toward the shadowed ceiling. It was made of some kind of dark wood, maybe mahogany? And in a style Rhia- no expert-thought might be Queen Anne. At the foot of the bed was a large chest, made of different wood than the bed- cedar, surely-and studded and bound with brass, probably meant to store blankets and comforters during the warm summer months. It was much bigger than the chest King Weston had shown them, the chest that held the proof of Nikolas's identity. But even Rhia could see that it had been crafted by the same hands.

Slowly, as if it were some sort of alien and possibly dangerous artifact. Nikolas reached out his hand to touch the chest's vaulted lid. "I thought maybe…I had hoped…" he murmured as he watched his fingers brush settling dust from the intricately inlaid wood. A smile tugged painfully and unsuccessfully at his lips, and he finally just shook his head. "I thought there was a chance, at least…that it could have been someone else who put it there, in the old pavilion. Someone who simply happened by and thought it would make a convenient hiding place…" He looked at her then, and the pain in his eyes struck her like a blow. "You know?"

She shook her head, bewildered and obscurely frightened. "No. I don't," she said flatly, folding her arms to keep them from reaching for him. tapping her foot like an angry wife. "I don't know because you haven't told me, Nikolas. What is it, dammit? What was it about that chest-and now this one- that has you looking like…like…I don't know-like you've seen a ghost?"

He exhaled, drew a hand over his face and slowly lowered himself onto the chest. "A ghost? Maybe I have, at that." Again, he tried to smile. "Except…I don't think inanimate objects can have ghosts, can they?"

"Dammit, Donovan-"

"Rhee… my love." He reached for her hands and drew her to him. guiding her between his knees as his eyes roamed her face with a tenderness that made her ache. "Don't you know, it's not because I want to keep this from you that I haven't told you. It's just…difficult for me to talk about it at all, you see. I think…because saying it out loud…saying the words…makes it real." His eyes held hers as his legs pressed inward, locking her hips between them. His hands slipped under her jacket and skimmed upward along the sides of her waist. "Then, once I've said it, I can't keep dodging around it any longer. Do you understand?"

When she nodded, he released a breath that sounded like a pressure valve letting go. closed his eyes and drew her close. And he seemed to relax then…like someone walking into his home after a long hard day. She stared past him into the deepening twilight until her eyes burned, fighting a powerful desire to weave her fingers through his hair and cradle his head against her breasts. Instead, she gripped his shoulders hard and said very softly. "Do you understand that if you don't tell me this instant, I will strangle you?"

He drew back from her. laughing, sounding like himself again, as if holding her for just those short minutes had recharged him. "Ah-my little pit bull terrier. Yes. All right then." He caught a quick, exaggerated breath and said with a lightness that didn't fool her a bit. "The reason seeing the chest sent me into a bit of a tailspin is because I'd seen it before."

"What?"

"Or one like it. I should say. Almost like it."

"But, Nikolas, that's not-"

"Hush." He silenced her with a finger pressed gently to her lips. "Let me explain. When I saw this one, I knew. They were obviously made as a set, identical except for the size. This is the largest. I would think, the one Weston has would be the smallest, unless, of course, there are more than three. Mine-the one I saw-is a size between the two. They must have been meant to nest inside one another, do you see? Like Chinese boxes."

Rhia nodded automatically…then shook her head, because she didn't see at all. "But why should that upset you? So, they're a set-even I could see they're the same. So what? Where did you see this other one? Are you sure it's even the same?"

His lips curved in an odd, bitter smile. "Oh, yes. I'm absolutely sure. It was mine, you see. Or rather, my uncle's. When I was a child, growing up, I kept my stuff in it-my bits and pieces. My favorite toys, books, the odd treasure I'd found. So I could hardly mistake it, could I?"

He watched her face as he said it, amazed at how easy it was to utter the words after all, and how swiftly the unthinkable became reasonable and logical when shared with someone else. And how relieved he felt, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

He saw her eyes narrow slightly and take on a kind of glow, like a hunting tiger's. "So…your uncle must have been working for Lord Vladimir-he had to be." Her voice was hushed, vibrant with excitement. "He was probably someone very close to him, too-a valet, maybe. His right-hand man. Someone he trusted with your care and upbringing, anyway. You know what that means? It means…"

Nikolas nodded. "If anyone knows where the bounder is. It's Silas Donovan. We have to talk to him, Nik."

For a long moment they simply looked at each other, her hands tense on his shoulders, his on her sides, his fingers curving around her slender torso, his head tipped slightly back. And as he gazed at her shimmering eyes and raptly parted lips the thought finally came clear to him like a gentle explosion, the pop and sizzle of a Chinese fireworks candle, to sear itself forever into his consciousness: I love this woman.

The pain that had twisted like a knife in his belly for weeks was gone. Now, instead of dread when he thought about the future, he felt full of optimism, even excitement. If his becoming king was what it was going to take to bring democracy to Silvershire, he'd do it, by God-as long as Rhia de Hayes consented to be his queen. With her by his side, he could face any challenge, defeat any foe. Never mind the fog outside the windows, the growing darkness in the room; in Nikolas's soul the sun had come from behind the clouds and was shining warm and bright.

"Nik?"

"Yes, luv?"

"Do you know where he is-Silas-" Her voice seemed to snag on a breath. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm bedazzled. It's merely one of the hazards of being this close to you-another is that I keep getting this dangerous desire to make love to you on the spot." He saw a lovely pink flush creep across her cheeks and thought of soft, sweet things…like kittens and rose petals.