"Where does the title Mountjoy come from?"

"It had become extinct but the year before, displeasing the queen, even though she herself had beheaded the final earl in the line. But the first earl didn't settle down. You see. he was a very successful trader before he threw in his lot with Raleigh, and so he went out again. Not three months later, his ship sank in the Mediterranean. He was the only survivor. He never wrote about it, only that he'd been both cursed and blessed, whatever that means.

"My grandfather told me the first earl kept a journal. He'd written that he'd pictured this house or castle or manor house, whatever you wish to call it, in his mind, all fullblown down to the last white round tower stone, and his new heiress wife had enthusiastically poured all her money into the venture, and Wyverly Chase was the result."

"I trust the Wyverly heiress gained an excellent husband for her money."

"Well, they both lived a long time, if that is any measure. His name was Jared Vail. From his portrait-it's in the long picture gallery in the east wing-he was a strapping gentleman, the flashing dark eyes of a pirate, face ruddy from the wind and sea, and a wicked smile. Fortunately, the Vail men have been fairly astute in dealing with finances over the years and have flourished." Nicholas grinned. "Do you know Captain Jared also wrote of that dreadful day in I6I8 when Raleigh was beheaded with an axe? He claimed Raleigh boomed out before the axe fell, 'This is a sharp Medicine, but it is a Physician for all Diseases.'"

She studied his face. "I agree, the Wyverly heiress wasn't the magic one, it was this ship captain, Jared Vail, he was magic and you know it, else he couldn't have built this magnificent house that must whisper of secrets and ancient magic rattling about behind its walls. You also know it because you carry your grandfather's blood and his teachings, and he carried his father's blood all the way back to Jared Vail. I want to see your grandfather's library, Nicholas. I want to see his copy of the Rules of the Pale."

"You will," he said, looked at her mouth again, and lifted her onto his lap. "Let me kiss you, and don't try to leap away from me in shock."

For the moment, the magnificent magic house receded to the back of her mind. Rosalind gave him a slow smile. "I've never had a man's tongue in my mouth, Nicholas. I've been kissed before you, naturally, but not this way. Grayson was the first."

"Grayson?" His temperature of his voice plummeted. "Grayson?"

Rosalind poked him in the arm. "Yes, but truth be told, I goaded him into doing it. I told him Raymond Sikes was the best kisser in all of Lower Slaughter and I was willing to wager a shilling that Grayson couldn't come close to him." She laughed. "Poor Grayson, he didn't know what to do. I was fourteen and he was quite the young man, newly up from Oxford, ready to sample all London's wickedness. I remember I puckered up when he forced himself to lean down and peck my mouth." She paused a moment, remembering the appalled look on his face, then giggled, a delightful sound Nicholas had never heard out of her before. Who knew Rosalind could giggle like any other young girl? Then she laughed. "Poor Grayson looked so revolted, so guilty, really, and so I told him I'd kissed a frog not more than five minutes before he'd kissed me-he fled to London. I didn't see him for six months. Do you know that I was convinced to kiss three more frogs?"

"None of them turned into princes, I gather."

"Not even a duke. I worried for months I would get warts, but I didn't."

"What about Raymond Sikes?"

"Oh, I made him up. Poor Grayson never knew I'd plucked the name out of nothing at all. I suppose now that I am married, I should tell him. He can't smack a wife, can he?"

"It would be very bad form," Nicholas said, then shook his head. "So Grayson gave you your first and only kiss before me?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest about it, yes."

He kissed her again, this time running his tongue over her bottom lip, and whispered, his breath hot and exciting, "Open your mouth, Rosalind. Open now."

She did. All of his focus was on her mouth. He wanted the warmth and wet of her and so he eased his tongue-

The new footman he'd hired himself a month before yelled right outside the window, "My lord! We've arrived! Shall I open the door for you and her ladyship or would you prefer that Mr. Lee Po and I carry in all the luggage and leave you alone here with your new bride, perhaps until it is dark?"

Nicholas hadn't even realized the carriage had stopped in the wide circular drive in front of Wyverly. Given the dazed expression in Rosalind's eyes, neither had she. He wanted to kill. He wanted to cry. Instead, he rolled his eyes and removed his tongue from his wife's mouth. His wife, what a thought that was. He'd known her for nine days, and she was now his wife.

He pulled himself together and stuck his head out of the carriage window. "Thank you for felling me with your wit, John. Ah, I see Block is opening the front doors. Tell him we need several more footmen. Introduce him to Lee Po. Go."

John didn't want to go. He wanted a nice long look into the carriage even though a blind man would know exactly what was going on. He was being small and nosy, and enjoying it immensely. He sighed.

"Go!"

Nicholas straightened Rosalind's gown, her bonnet, lightly touched his fingertip to her mouth, still open in surprise, and wondered if he could have her in his bed in under five minutes.

"Goodness," she said and lightly touched her fingertips to her mouth.

"I plan to treat you to the unexpected for the next thirty years. What do you think?"

She looked up at him through her lashes. "Perhaps I'll have some unexpected surprises for you too, Nicholas."

His eyes nearly crossed. He lifted her down from the carriage and walked beside her up the foot-worn stone steps. "You're ignorant," he said, not looking at her. "You don't know a blessed thing, much less anything about surprises."

"Aunt Sophie gave me a book. With pictures. She said they're not as explicit as the naked statues at Northcliffe Hail, which I was never allowed to see, by the way, but in- formative enough."

"You will show me this book."

She gave him a wicked smile.

Block said to him without preamble, "It is not all a disaster, my lord. There are a few of us who have stuck and will continue to stick. As will Mr. Pritchard, who is sleeping in the entrance hall to guard us."

28

She blinked at the instant change in her new husband. He now looked suddenly hard, ready to fight. He looked dangerous. She'd swear his eyes had darkened to black, but his voice was calm, low. "Peter is guarding you? What the devil is going on here, Block?"

"I did not mean to overly alarm you, my lord."

"Ah, so I take it that rats are racing through the kitchen? Perhaps smoke is billowing out of the bedchamber fireplace? Oh, yes, Block, this is my new wife, Lady Mountjoy. Rosalind, this is Block. He was with my grandfather for twenty years. To the best of my knowledge, Block has never encountered a problem he couldn't resolve."

Rosalind smiled at the old man, who looked ancient as the single pine tree whose gnarly branches waved against the second story of the house. He walked right up to her, eyed her briefly, then said close to Nicholas's ear, "It is not rats or smoke, my lord, it is the return of the old earl. No, no, don't think for a moment he is displeased. He appears quite happy that you are wed and that you and your new wife are here at

Wyverly. Since he has never presented himself before, I must assume it is because you have wed and returned home.

"We have heard him singing at the top of his lungs, and laughing, and banging into things, as if he were blind and couldn't see that the old Indian chest was right in front of him. He told me I had at least seven more years before I departed to the hereafter. I told him it wasn't enough years but he told me to get hold of myself, that I would be older than he was when I finally croaked it. Unfortunately, he wasn't specific about my final destination. He sang it all in rhymes that were not at all felicitous."