"For all time," he affirmed softly. "I will have no other wife but you, and I fear you must learn to like it." His wrist took another turn of the braid, so that her face was brought up against his shoulder. "Is the matter now clear?"

"Quite clear," she whispered. "But it will be clearer still when my husband kisses me for the first time since we were wed."

"Lord of hell!" muttered Nick. "Is it true that I have not done so?"

She nodded, her eyes gleaming mischief. "You were so busy delivering challenges and fighting duels, my lord-"

He silenced her mischief in the simplest fashion, releasing her mouth only when her breath came in sobs and her body drooped against him, all resistance gone from her, so that she was pliable, malleable as wax, molten with the desire that he knew so well how to kindle.

"If it were not so cold, and I did not have your outrageous interference to sort out, we would put this marriage beyond annulment here and now," Nick said, his own hunger throbbing in his voice. But he stood her upright, releasing his grip on her hair. "You owe an apology, and I would have you make it."

"You would not have me beg Buckingham's pardon?" she exclaimed. "I would hang, rather."

"Nay, I will excuse you that. But for the others, so rudely interrupted in a matter of honor-"

"Honor! Pah!" Polly interjected, and stalked out of the coppice. The scene in the field was much as she had left it, except that swords were sheathed and Buckingham was sitting up, propped against a saddle, his wound tightly bandaged, a brandy flask in his hand.

Polly walked over to them, turned her back pointedly on her victim, and addressed herself to the four seconds. "I am told that I disrupted an affair of honor, gentlemen. I ask your pardon for any inconvenience I may have caused you. I am sure you would have much preferred to have left the field on a hurdle."

A sardonic crack of laughter came from behind her.

"God's body, my lady, but ye'd dare the devil himself, I swear it!"

Richard spoke thoughtfully. "Nick, ye'd best remove yourself and Polly from London for a spell. The king will not pardon either you or Buckingham in short order; he's but this month declared another out against dueling, and will not take kindly to being so soon disobeyed."

"Aye, you have the right of it," agreed Buckingham, morosely. "The king will find it easier to pardon us in our absence. I'm for France, once Master Sawbones here says I'll not bleed like a stuck pig if I move."

Nick nodded. "Then we'll to Yorkshire for a few months."

"But I cannot leave Thomas," Polly objected.

"To the devil with Killigrew," Nick declared savagely. "He must do without you for a spell, as must your slavering admirers. I would have you perform for once before a limited audience. We are going into Yorkshire straightway."

Polly thought that perhaps Thomas would have to manage without her for a bit, then she was struck by a most happy notion. "Why, then Sue may accompany us, and we may stop at Wilton on the way for Oliver. In that manner, they could be wed and settled in a gamekeeper's cottage without any difficulty." A sunny smile of satisfaction fell in benediction upon them all.

Nicholas contemplated a three-week journey on horseback in the close company of Susan and the unknown Oliver. He looked across at De Winter in appeal.

"Aye, leave it with me," Richard said, struggling for a straight face. "I'll have 'em conveyed somehow."

"But will not that be a great trouble for you, Richard?" asked Polly, concerned.

"It is not a trouble that Richard will regard in the least," replied Nick firmly. "Gentlemen, are we in accord on this unfortunate matter?"

"Aye," Richard said briskly. " 'Tis a scandal to be scotched, and there's none here that'll breathe a word of it."

"In that case, I beg leave to leave you." Nicholas bowed

formally to his erstwhile opponents. The salutation was returned with equal gravity.

Buckingham regarded the scene with a twisted smile. It was clearly a case of honors even, and he would do well to accept the situation with a good grace. If the full story got out, he would be a laughingstock. He was unaccustomed to defeat, and his present downfall had been achieved in the most unorthodox fashion. But then, there was little of the orthodox about Lady Kincaid. He had been guilty of a gross underestimation-one that did not take account of the power of love. One must pay the price for such foolishness. It was not a mistake he would make again.

"You leave for Yorkshire immediately?" Richard asked, accompanying them to the horses.

"As soon as may be," Nick agreed with a grin, cupping his palm to receive Polly's booted foot, tossing her up onto Tiny. "But first I am obliged to ensure that this marriage cannot be threatened with annulment."

"You talk in riddles," Richard said, unable to resist Nick's infectious grin.

"Not at all. Polly will explain the matter in full."

Polly blushed rosily as Richard looked to her for enlightenment. "My lord is being most ungentlemanly," she said.

"And since when was a Newgate-born, tavern-bred bastard deserving of gentlemanly consideration?" demanded Nick, swinging onto Sulayman.

"Since she became Lady Kincaid," retorted Polly smartly, pressing her heels into Tiny's flanks. The mare took off at a gallop across the common.

"Now, just when did she learn to ride bareback?" Nick wondered.

"Probably at the time she became Lady Kincaid," Richard answered, chuckling. "You'd best be after her before she has any more bright ideas. I'll send word when 'tis safe for you to return."

"With Buckingham exiled for a spell, you may be able to work some good with the king," Nick said thoughtfully.

"We'll do what we can, though I doubt that Villiers will

be easily unhorsed," Richard said. "But we'll keep trying." He held up his hand to the mounted man. "Ye've a honeymoon waiting, my friend. Get to it. I'll explain matters to Killigrew, in as far as they are explainable."

Nick nodded, pressed his friend's hand in thanks and farewell, and put Sulayman to the gallop in pursuit of his fast-disappearing wife.

"I think," Polly declared, stretching with languid pleasure, "that I am well and truly wed, my lord." She reached a hand to stroke the rich auburn head pillowed on her breast. "You will not be rid of me now."

Nick raised his head, bracing himself on his elbows to regard her quizzically. "Instead, I must endure afternoon upon afternoon watching as my wife becomes the property of half London."

A tiny frown creased her brow. "Would you have me leave the king's company, love?"

Nick shook his head. "Nay. I will assuage my husbandly grudging with the knowledge that I am the envy of all, and I have a most faithful wife, despite the promises she makes upon stage." He smiled lazily. "I think, madame, so that there shall be no doubt of that, I shall insist upon the most proper modesty, the most decorous dress, whenever you are not performing. We will have Margaret choose you a wardrobe of a Puritan severity-"

He fell back, laughing, under the vigorous assault with which this provocation was received. "Nay… nay, peace, my shrew!" Still laughing, he pulled her on top of him, holding her hands at her sides, pinned to the mattress. "Will you cry peace, or must I compel it?"

The hazel eyes glowed with laughter, the residue of loving, and a sparking anticipation at the feel of him, again hard and throbbing against her belly. "And how would you compel it, my lord?".

"Why, quite easily," he said, parting her thighs with a hard knee. With a slow twist of his hips, he entered her

again, and Polly gasped with the delight that was as familiar as it was always different.

"So this is the manner in which you will enforce your husbandly authority," she mused, moving with his rhythm in a dreamy circle.