Then he saw the note neatly folded and left on the pillow. A flicker of alarm went through him. Simon strode around the side of the bed and snatched up the piece of paper. He carried it back to the open doorway to read it by the light that filtered in from his bedchamber.

"Hell and damnation." Simon crumpled the note in his hand. Then a rueful smile edged his mouth, replacing the flare of irritation. Well, he had known that his wedding night had been virtually guaranteed to be out of the ordinary. Elves were an unpredictable lot.

He wondered where one would go to hide and remembered that this particular elf would undoubtedly be unable to resist scribbling in her journal tonight of all nights.

Simon went out into the darkened hall and headed toward the staircase. The house was very still and quiet tonight. Other than himself and Emily, there were only the servants around and they had long since retired.

Simon had refused to allow his new in-laws to spend so much as a single night under his roof. The three Faringdon men had been told they would have to find other accommodations immediately after the wedding ceremony. Simon did not particularly care where they spent the evening. He was under the impression they had all left for London, however, and that suited him. The sooner they returned to the gaming hells, the sooner they would slide into disaster.

Simon reached the bottom step and saw a bar of light shining under the closed door of the library. He grinned fleetingly and strode across the marble-tiled hall. Tracking down an elusive wife was not so very difficult.

Simon opened the door of the library and walked into the room. Emily, seated behind the big desk, was writing furiously in a bound volume. She glanced up as she heard the door open. She was wearing her prim little chintz dressing gown and her hair was tucked into a frilly white cap. Her eyes widened behind the lenses of her spectacles as she stared at him.

"Simon."

"Good evening, my dear. Don't you think this a rather odd place to spend your wedding night?" Simon closed the door and walked over to the cold hearth. He went down on one knee to light the fire that had been laid there. "Not nearly as comfortable as your bedchamber."

"Simon, what are you doing here?" Emily jumped to her feet. "Did you get my note?"

"Oh, yes, I got your note." Simon rose and took the crumpled paper out of his pocket. He tossed it into the flames he had just ignited. Then he turned his head and smiled at Emily over his shoulder. "Very thoughtful of you, my sweet, to consider my delicate sensibilities in this matter."

Emily blushed and looked down at the top of the desk. "It is only that I do not wish to burden you with my excessive passions, my lord."

Simon rested one arm along the mantel and contemplated his wife. He had himself a bride who had convinced herself she was in danger of intimidating her husband with passion. Only Emily could have come up with such a twist on a wedding night. "I would have you know, my dear, that I do not consider your passions a burden. I look forward to carrying out my responsibilities as a husband."

"That is very kind of you but it is quite obvious that you would merely be doing your duty tonight if you were to make love to me and I could not bear that."

"I see. And you felt you could not explain that to me in person? You had to leave a written message?"

"I thought it would be easier if I simply left that note informing you that I do not expect anything of you." She clasped her hands in front of her and stared down at them. "It is a little awkward to talk about that sort of thing in person, my lord, if you see what I mean."

"Surely not for us," Simon said gently. "As you have pointed out, our communication takes place on a higher plane. You and I are free to discuss matters that other couples can only allude to in the vaguest of terms."

"Do you really think so, Simon?" She raised her eyes to meet his.

Simon saw the anxiety and hope in her gaze and he smiled to conceal a surge of cool complacency. The lady was about to fall into his palm like a ripe peach. "Yes, Emily, I am certain of it." He went over to the brandy table and picked up the decanter. "I thought you were certain of it, too. You were, after all, the one who explained it to me."

"Well, I had hoped it was true," Emily said candidly. "But after I realized exactly why you were marrying me, I could not be altogether certain that you were experiencing the same sense of pure, metaphysical communion as I am. At least, not at the moment."

"But you have hopes that I will come to experience it?"

"Oh, yes, Simon. I am pinning all my hopes on such an event. That is precisely why I talked you into marrying me. But in the meantime, I do not want you to feel obligated in any way to perform the duties of a husband. It is bad enough that I coerced you into this venture."

Simon coughed once as a mouthful of brandy went down the wrong way. "I assure you I did not feel coerced into marriage, Emily. I rarely do anything I do not wish to do."

"I can well believe that, my lord, but in this instance, you must allow I produced some rather forceful arguments in favor of an alliance between us. I would not have it on my conscience that I also demanded that you perform your husbandly duties in bed on top of everything else. You have already given me so much simply by giving me your name. It would be unjust and incredibly greedy of me to expect any more of you."

"Very thoughtful, my dear." Simon regarded her with solemn consideration. She looked so tragically determined to take the noble course and resist her own sweet passion. Meanwhile just the sight of her aroused him as no other woman had in years. It was all he could do to control a sudden, savage impulse to pull Emily down onto the carpet and make her his right then and there.

A shudder of raw desire went through him. The realization that his unshakable self-control might be threatened startled Simon. He had never lost that sense of control around a woman.

"Simon? Is something wrong?"

He shook his head and carefully put down the half-empty brandy glass. Damnation. He was the one in charge here. He was the one who had made the decision to marry, whatever Emily might think. He had decided on his course of vengeance. It was a vengeance that would bring down an entire family. Bedding Emily tonight was simply the next step in the process. Broderick Faringdon must be gnashing his teeth at this very moment. Faringdon was, after all, a man and a father. He would understand that by morning his daughter would belong completely to the enemy in a way that only a woman can belong to a man. She would be lost to the Faringdons forever.

But first the elf had to be coaxed into surrendering to her own charming passion, Simon reminded himself.

"No, my dear," he said thoughtfully. "I was simply reflecting on one very salient fact that you appear to be overlooking."

"What is that?"

"You say we are capable of a rare metaphysical form of communication."

"I believe that with all my heart, Simon. I would never have pushed for marriage otherwise. I swear it."

He nodded. "And you would wish this unique communication between us to be deepened and enhanced, is that not correct?"