"Never."

"You think not? Well, let me tell you this, my passionate wife. Just once, I would dearly like to make love to you in a bed rather than on the floor of the library. How is that for being staid and dull?"

"A bed?" Emily frowned. "How very normal and unimaginative that sounds. I stand corrected. You may be a bit dull, after all, my lord. What a surprise. You certainly had me fooled."

"Vixen." He pushed her back down into the depths of the gold satin and kissed her soundly.

The kiss was intended as playful punishment, but it was quickly transformed into something much more potent. Emily gave herself up to it with joyous abandon before Simon finally broke it off to gaze down at her with eyes that were no longer amused. Instead, they were strangely watchful.

"Well, Emily? Was that more what you expected from lovemaking?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, yes, Simon. I truly felt cast adrift upon love's transcendent, golden shore that time." She smiled shyly, knowing her heart was probably reflected in her eyes. "It was wonderful—truly a metaphysical experience. Extraordinarily stimulating to the sensibilities. I cannot wait to do it again."

Simon groaned and then fell back, laughing. "I ought to have known a woman of excessive passions such as yourself would be utterly insatiable." He sat up and got to his feet, reaching for his shirt. "Come, wife. We are going to go upstairs and behave like a civilized married couple for once."

"What an excellent idea, my lord." Emily reached for her spectacles and adjusted them on her nose. "Just think. You have an entire drawer full of cravats upstairs in your bedchamber."

"Very true." Simon looked at his wife, who was wearing nothing except her spectacles, and grinned again. "Madam, I promise you that you will be positively amazed at the versatility of a well-made cravat."

It was nearly dawn but Simon was far from sleep. Emily's slender, warm body was snuggled closely against him and he could smell the scent of her mingled with the odors of their recent lovemaking. A length of white silk still dangled from her fingers, which lay across his chest.

He had handled matters much better this time around, Simon decided. He had held to his vow to make Emily come to him. She had done so, surrendering very sweetly, with a womanly grace that had charmed him. Even more important, he had been in control right up until the moment he allowed himself to take his own satisfaction.

His relationship with his new bride was now much more as it should be, Simon concluded, trying to be coolheaded and objective about the situation. Emily had learned that he could give her pleasure when he made love to her and she had also learned that he was quite capable of an unshakable self-control.

She had been obliged to acknowledge that his was the stronger will in this union. He had bided his time and it had been worth it. By waiting until she succumbed to her own inevitable curiosity and budding sense of passion, he had made his point. He would be in charge from now on and Emily would know that.

It was necessary for a wife to respect her husband's strength of will. Especially when that wife was an ex-Faringdon.

"Simon?" Emily's voice was languid.

"I thought you were asleep, elf."

"I was. But I just remembered something I meant to tell you earlier. I had a conversation with Lady Northcote this evening." Emily yawned.

Simon was instantly alert. "Did you, indeed? And what did you discuss?"

"Well, I was thanking her for inviting me to her ball and she assured me she could have done nothing less because of my having saved Celeste from Nevil. She also seemed to think she owed me the kindness because of something that had happened in the past between Northcote's father and yours."

"Is that what she said?"

"It was all very vague, but I naturally assured her that she was not to worry about it any longer."

Simon went still. "What, precisely, did you tell her, Emily?"

"Just that whatever obligation might have existed in the past had been more than amply repaid by her kindness in launching me into Society. She has been so nice to me, Simon. I could not bear to have her think she owed me anything. And I certainly do not want her friendship based on a feeling of obligation."

"So you told her the debt had been paid in full?"

"Yes. Precisely. And she was very relieved, I must say."

"Bloody hell," Simon muttered. "I'll wager she was. And that is nothing compared to how Northcote no doubt feels."

"Well, I certainly hope so. Such a nice couple."

So much for being in charge of the situation.

Ah, well, Simon consoled himself. Northcote had been the least of the four. It was Northcote's father, after all, not the present marquess, who had ignored the letter Simon had written twenty-three years ago.

And Simon was obliged to admit that Lady Northcote had done a fine job of launching Emily. Perhaps the Northcote debt had, indeed, been paid in full.

"Emily," he said as sternly as possible, "in future you will not make promises or commitments on my behalf without consulting me first. Is that plain?"

"Perfectly, Simon. But I knew in this case you would not mind in the least. It was all obviously some sort of old misunderstanding."

"You are wrong there, elf. Northcote and I understand each other very well."

Chapter 13

"Well, Blade?" the Marquess of Northcote asked quietly. "My wife tells me your wife feels that the old debt is repaid. Is that true?"

Simon slowly lowered his newspaper and regarded Northcote with a cool gaze. The familiar, subdued sounds of masculine conversation, rustling papers, and gently clinking bottles behind him indicated the club was busy this afternoon. But he and Northcote had this corner of the room to themselves.

"My wife enjoyed herself very much last night," Simon said without inflection. "Lady Merryweather assures me Emily is well launched in Society. Please convey my gratitude to your lady."

Northcote lowered himself into the chair beside Simon's and reached for the bottle of port that stood on the end table. He poured himself a glass. "I am not talking about our wives and you know it. I am asking if you now consider matters between us to have been evened out."

Simon shrugged. "It would appear so. A husband must honor his wife's promises and obligations and Emily appears to have taken it upon herself to let you off the hook." He went back to scanning the newspaper.

"Damn it, Blade, do not play any of your deep games with me. Just tell me straight out if you consider the old debt fulfilled."

"You have my word on it." Simon did not look up from his perusal of the latest dispatches from the Continent. But beside him he sensed Northcote relax.

"Thank you, Blade. You are known to be as hard as iron but your word is equally solid. My wife was in hysterics that night at the inn. She was convinced Celeste's future had been shattered by that damn fortune hunter."

"I assume you took care of the wretched Nevil?"

"He will not be returning to London at any time in the near future," Northcote confirmed, not without satisfaction.

"Then all is well." Simon turned the page.

There was silence from the other chair for a long moment as Northcote sipped his port. Then he said in a low voice, "You may not believe this, but I regret what happened all those years ago, Blade. I apologize for my father's behavior."

Simon lowered the paper and met Northcote's steady gaze. He let another beat of silence pass and then he nodded curtly, surprised by the apology. "Consider the matter settled."

Northcote stretched out his legs and studied his glass of port. "I was the last one, was I not? You eventually managed to trap all of us. Me, Canonbury, and Peppington. And of course, Faringdon. It was devilishly clever of you, Blade. I regret that my father did not live long enough to appreciate your brilliance."