ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The fresh breezes were scented with sea and sunshine. Maurette thought longingly of her little mare, Melitte, and realized their rapturous gallops through the open fields at Islington. Heedless of all care, they would rush headlong into the wind. Maurette longed desperately to feel that same sense of joyous abandon, to watch as the grassy earth sped by beneath Melitte's sure hooves, and to laugh joyously and duck as overhanging trees swept by. Lost in her musings, Maurette realized that looming before her in the towering curtain wall was the massive portcullis that closed the castle off from the world. The ugly iron gate made her feel confined and cut off from the freedom that she loved and had always known.

Without thinking, Maurette ran to the structure and pushed at it. She beat with her fists at the unyielding metal. A man clothed in a tired livery descended the steps of the gatehouse to stand bemused near the distraught girl.

"Does m' lady wish exit?" he asked, eyeing Maurette warily. She abated her efforts to glance over her shoulder at the man, who stood back from her in helpless uncertainty. Her pounding fists slid resignedly down the grill-work. She lowered her head.

"Would it be that easily done?" she asked quietly.

"Would what be easily done, m'um?" asked the man. He shifted uneasily in his place.

Maurette turned her back to the gate and leaned against it. She regarded the attendant with pity. The poor old creature had no idea what to make of her. He pulled a tattered bit of cloth from his sleeve and pinched at a reddened nose.

"Could I leave this place," she asked, if I so wished?"

"0' course, m'um," said the guard with a smile that he hoped would reassure the distressed girl, though what she was distressed about completely eluded him. "Is that your wish, m'um?" he inquired encouragingly. "For if it is, I shall see to it."

Maurette gazed at him for a long moment. "No," she finally said and shook her head wearily.

The man was now completely discomfited. "If your Ladyship desires to gain exit at any time," he said, feeling prickles of perspiration forming beneath his cloth, "ye've only to ask. 'Course," he added carefully, "before you go 0' bangin' on th' gate, ye might gi' me a little notice. Then I could have it open for ye, m'um. See, bangin' won't open her. I have t' pull, and up she does that little groove. Y' see that, m'um." His smile deepened. It was not often he got the opportunity to explain his work to anyone. "'At's how she works, m'um. I pull down, ti gate goes up. "At's what I be here fer, m'um, t' open ti gate." He bowed gallantly.

Maurette could have been more gallant herself, she thought, and wanted to asked the gatekeeper for a more detailed instruction on how the massive gate operated, but she merely nodded. "Yes," she said finally. "I shall remember."

The old man was mightily relieved when the trouble and troublesome lass had moved on. He quirked a bushy eyebrow. Strange, he thought, as he took the few steps into the gatehouse. Strangest thing he had ever encountered. "Bangin' on a gate t' get it open," he chuckled. He must relate this to the other men. 'Twould make for a evening of hearty speculation. The lady was a sweet little thing but not very smart. He uncorked a flagon and too a long draught. He hoped that Lord Dominic had not heard.

It had been bad enough for him when the old lord had gone loony. He shook his head as he replaced the cork and swiped at his mouth with a grimy forearm. The gentry never ceased to amaze and amuse him. "No promise 0' sense does money and power bring," he said aloud. "Perforce 'twas better to be born low in th' long run."

Maurette breathed a ragged sigh as she left the gatekeeper and wandered along the curtain wall of the castle. She brushed at the tears that formed on her lashes. Her humiliation was, it appeared, complete. She had succeeded in embarrassing herself before the butler, the kitchen help, and now the gatekeeper. They all knew her for the stupid, small, and useless appendage that she was. Maurette reminded herself that she had dared to imagine that she could be something to Dominic Warbrooke besides a plaything. She managed a small smile at her own expense. Dominic had brought her here for one reason only. Despite his protestations of love, he needed her not at all. How could she have fooled herself that the great and powerful lord of this entire estate desired her partnership in life? Had he ever in their acquaintance spoken with her on a serious subject? Had he ever sought her advice? She could see in her mind's eye a vision of her mother and father, their heads together in loving conference. Maurette wished it could be that way between her and Dominic.

"Fine," she said angrily, kicking at a pebble. She recalled her youthful dreams of sharing someone's life as her parents had shared their lives, of loving and being loved and talking into the late hours of the night about all manner of consequential and inconsequential things. She recalled her dream of finding someone with whom to plan a future. Perhaps one day she would carry a babe. Then Dominic would be honor-bound to wed her. Perhaps then they could begin to plan a future. Maurette stopped in her thoughts. Was that the sum of her worth to a husband? Was she to be a mere vessel for his sons? And what if Dominic never married her? She thought of Imogene and the oafish Gregory. At least an oafish husband would be better than none under those conditions.

"Nay," said Maurette aloud. She had not risked flying off with the notorious Raven and turned her life over to a man who had won her at sword point for the sole purpose of becoming a brood mare. For that, she could have wed any one of a dozen young gallants. Maurette had given herself to Dominic for one reason alone: she loved him. Love alone was the answer to her dilemma. She was secure in the belief that Dominic loved her, but the question arose as to whether or not this man, whom she hardly knew, was capable of the all-consuming love that she felt for him.

She had been told of unbelievable cruelty on the part Dominic Warbrooke. If she truly felt for him that all-consuming love that she claimed to feel, she must give him the opportunity to explain that behavior, to deny it, even. She must make him know that she wished to be a part of his life. She must force him, if necessary, to take her into his confidence. There was much for Maurette to learn about this house and its inhabitants. There were secrets here. Dominic must not be allowed to imagine that she needed to be protected from anything that was part of him.

Maurette's chin lifted, and her shoulders squared beneath her heavy cloak. She would face him directly with the new knowledge that she had unhappily received about his nephew. Even as her resolve grew, however, uncertainty assailed her. Could she simply confront him with what, Lydia had told her? He might become enraged. He might Maurette's thought's trailed off. Once before, she had thought that Dominic Warbrooke was capable of killing her. She shivered, despite the sun, at the chill that clinched her limit. She wondered and realized Dominic as not apprehensive to anything she might do or say She knew him to be capable of great violence. She must tread carefully. Maurette gazed out as she walked over the expanse of the country. She had been walking for some time and realized that she was nearly to the northern end of the curtain. Sadly, she perused the massive barrier before her, rising nearly forty feet above her. Would that it could be made to disappear at her command. Beyond it the sea sounds reverberated invitingly. The little caped figure swept out a slender arm to bid the wall vanish.

Maurette laughed softly at her silly gesture but drew her breath almost immediately when her eyes rested upon an aperture in the monstrous stone wall. Realizing that the aperture was caused by the crumbling of stone, she moved cautiously toward it. Her pace quickened as she realized that she could squeeze through the opening with ease. The wall was at least nine feet thick, and as Maurette tore away at the crumbling rock, she felt as if she were traversing a small passage. She emerged on the other side with a pounding heart and looked back through the hole to see if anyone had noted her leaving. When she saw no one at the other end of the tunnel she had created, she turned to enjoy the view that her escape had afforded her. It was breathtaking.

>From a high shelf, Maurette gazed out over an expanse of jagged rock and rolling ocean. Farther out, a silver mist lay over the enduring and terrible beauty below her. Piercing the diaphanous fog, glistening, sea-smashed rocks thrust their spiked crowns skyward. Maurette felt the salt wind whipping at her and knew a freedom that she had not realized since she had entered the fortress.

She stared straight downward, where there was no mist, and her eyes fixed upon an arresting formation. Jutting out from the sheer pitch of shimmering rock was a triangular outcrop, topped by a smooth table of stone. Maurette leaned out as far as she dared but could not make put any other features in the outcropping. Farther along, a path could be seen beneath the jutting triangular table. Following the declivity with her eyes, she realized that she could reach the path if she went a little farther along the brow on which she now stood.

She stepped carefully over the craggy surface and found herself on a surprisingly traversible gravel path. She moved down slowly, passing beneath the jutting rook, and found herself finally on a secluded beach. Maurette was astonished, for it had been hidden by the high shelf outside the castle wall. The beach formed a tiny peaceful cove which she had looked down on.

Underneath her feet broken fragments of rock had been rubbed smooth by the continuous flow and ebb of the foaming water. Delightedly she watched small wavelets fling themselves recklessly onto the narrow girdle of broken shell and stone and then ripple away to be replaced by other small white-capped breakers. The gurgling dance of the little swells filled Maurette's heart with joy She watched the pitch and toss of the pretty stretch of sunlit water and laughed when, errant ripples cascaded over her satin slippers.

The afternoon sun was warm, and Maurette lifted her face to the sky. She loosed the pins from her hair and shook her curls free to tumble in careless abandon about her shoulders. She made a game of averting the frothy billows that lapped gently at her toes. So happily intent was she on her carefree play that she did not hear the crunch of gravel on the path behind her.

It was not until she noticed pebbles rolling down the sloped beach past her to plop into the sun-kissed water that she realized that someone was on the path. She turned her head to find a young man standing behind her on a low shelf. He smiled and nodded ingratiatingly. Maurette stood stock still as he moved down toward her.

Straight white teeth flashed as his smile deepened. He was very tall, Maurette noted, and his hair was the color of rusty sand. As he neared, she saw that his eyes were a shimmering green-gray. He wore a creamy lawn shirt, open at the neck and dark brown breeches and leather boots. His shin was deeply tanned, and his whole aspect spoke of sun and sea and youthful vitality and strength. Reaching the narrow beach, he stood with his feet planted wide apart and his hands on his hips. He seemed to revel in Maurette's awed appraisal.

"You are my uncle/s new affianced." He said without preamble.

Maurette could not put the words together in her mind. She stood in the water, the hem of her gown sodden and dripping.

"Auntie Maurette," he said, throwing his head back in unbridled laughter. Something about the man was so vaguely and yet so unmistakably familiar. His laughter filled the air, and Maurette felt warmed somehow and yet discomfited by the sound.

"Auntie?" she said uncertainly.

The young man offered a courtly bow. "I am Lucius Hamilton, my lady." His words contained a tone of mockery.

"Lucius," she gasped. At his smiling not, Maurette attempted to compose herself. "How do you do," she said in a small voice, holding out her hand, Lucius took it and held her in his sunlit gaze. Finally, he lowered his finely etched lips to her wrist. The kiss was, Maurette felt, far too sensuous for a new acquaintance to bestow upon a lady, to say nothing of a nephew upon a potential aunt. She snatched her hand away. Moving past him and out of the water, Maurette stood on the beach and wrung out the soggy hem of her gown.

"'Tis a lovely day," he said, ignoring her rebuff.

"Yes," Maurette agreed, not looking at him.

"We do not get many of these at Ravenshead." His eyes swung out to the span of swelling sea beyond the narrow cove. Maurette chanced a reprisal of his strong profile. His jaw was clean-shaven, and his skin in the sunlight resembled polished copper. His bright gaze came around before Maurette could turn away. "We must take our pleasures when they present themselves." He said evenly.

Maurette tore her eyes from his. She had been the target of the attentions of many young men the age of Lucius. She knew exactly how to handle them. Beyond that, this particular young man was, it would appear, trespassing upon Dominic's land.

"'Twould seem that we both had the same idea," she said haughtily. Her eyes widened, and her color deepened at what her words implied. She turned a sheepish gaze in his direction, hoping desperately that Lucius had not realized her comprehension of his apparent double meaning.

He merely smiled. "You have discovered my secret," he said gently.

"Your secret?" inquired Maurette, raising an eyebrow.

He swept out an arm to encompass the scene before them. "When life at Ravenshead becomes too complex and too confining, I disappear to this place."

Maurette regarded him narrowly. "Life at Ravenshead? From my information, Sir, you have no life at Ravenshead."

Lucius nodded deferentially. "Well aimed, auntie," he said tranquilly. "You have heard then of my banishment."

"Yes," said Maurette, feeling very unsure of her ground. "I was told just today, in fact, and I wonder at your presence here. Has the order been revoked?"

"It has not," he stated evenly.

It seemed he dared her to do something about his presence. His bronzed hand lay on his thigh as one booted foot came up to rest on a flat rock. The hand was lean and strong against the white cuff of his shirt. The thigh, Maurette noted with increasing discomfort, was muscular and long in the closely fitting breeches, Lucius leaned toward her, placing his forearm across his leg. The loose collar of his fell away, and she could see the dark matting of fur on his broad chest. She averted her eyes and concentrated upon her dampened slippers.

"Are you hungry?" Lucius asked softly.

Maurette cast him a quick glance. His gaze turned dark. She could not help but believe that his question referred to something other than food.

"In truth, I am," she said evenly. "I have not eaten since this morn."

Her delicately shaped eyebrows drew together as he held her in a hooded gaze. A long moment passed between the two young people. Maurette turned away finally, but she had no idea where to look. Diaphanous white clouds sailed silently in the shimmering sky. The ocean churned softly, waves melting in the sunlight. Gulls swooped and called as they soar over the silvered water. Her eyes returned of their own volition to the tanned faced and the sea-green eyes that regarded her levelly.

"I but offer you my company, my lady," Lucius said softly. "There is no need for all this discomfort. I have brought a small store of food and only ask for the honor of sharing it with you."

Maurette could not help the small chuckle that bubbled from her throat. This Lucius Hamilton was not to be put off with haughty rebuffs and verbal checkmates. He was, in truth, his uncle's nephew. Maurette's laughter deepened, and her head fell back. Shimmering golden curls tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. Lucius noted the delicate arch of her slender throat. The translucent skin stretched over pale blue veins, and the fragile profile was luminous in the sunlight. Dazzling lavender eyes turned on him, and his heart quickened at their intensity.

"Yes, Lucius Hamilton, I am hungry," Maurette said gaily. "I am very hungry, and I should love to share your repast."

"Excellent," he said, and his gaze lightened.

He bounded with all his youthful strength up the hill and returned with a small sack. He tool Maurette's hand and drew her along the beach to a high rock table that lay warming in the afternoon sun, and they sat upon it. Opening the cloth, he offered Maurette a piece of bread that he tore from a crusty loaf. He pulled from the interior of the sack a hunk of cheese, which he sliced crudely with his dirk. Then he drew out a flagon of wine and, with a flashing smile, held it up for Maurette's inspection. "I believe I have thought of everything," he said. Maurette shook her head good-naturedly. He was an ingratiating charmer, she decided.

"You have indeed, little nephew," she said, and they both laughed as he pulled at the cork with his teeth. Taking a long draught of the wine, Maurette realized that she was beginning to feel very comfortable with this young spirited gentleman. They finished off their meal with juicy pears and, happily full, they moved from the rock to walk on the small expanse of beach. As they rounded a gentle curve in the land, Maurette saw that an inlet led fiercely out to sea.

"Most ships draw far too deeply to navigate this channel," Lucius said, noting the direction of her gaze. "But a clever sailor in a small boat can manage it." He placed a strong arm around her slender shoulders and pointed mid-channel. "Can you see the markers?" Maurette squinted in the late afternoon sun.

"Yes," she said excitedly. "Yes, I see them."

"If a navigator follows those markers exactly, they will guide him safely through that very dangerous channel. From the helm of a ship that are almost invisible, however, and 'twould be an unfortunate mariner who tried to negotiate that piece of water unawares."

"This place is well protected," said Maurette.

"Yes," said Lucius tonelessly. " 'Tis only those His Lordship desires within the fortress who may enter."

Maurette eyes him piquantly. " 'Twould seem there are always exceptions to every rule."

"Ah, yes," said Lucius softly. A small smile crossed his lips.

Maurette lowered her gaze. "Can you tell me of your own circumstance, Lucius?"

He took his arm from around her shoulders and moved a few paces away. " 'Tis hard, Maurette, to speak of all that has happened between my uncle and me." He turned back to face her and crossed his arms over his broad chest. " 'Tis true, your information, I have no life at Ravenshead. And yet Ravenshead is where my whole life, in truth, is."

Maurette eyed him quizzically. "Your mother could not speak of your banishment. She said, however, that it was inequitable."

" 'Tis that," said Lucius abruptly.

She lowered her gaze once again and turned away from him. "I intend to ask Dominic about it."

"Do you?" Lucius said, and his face became dark. His voice took on a leonine growl. "Ask him, too, why the sun shines and why the clouds skim the horizon on a stormy day at Ravenshead."

Maurette turned back to him. Her face showed her perplexity. "You hate him, do you not, for this perceived injustice?"

"I do," said Lucius. His eyes glinted, and his darkened aspect pulsed with his rage. He lowered his head, for he could see the effect that his wrath was having on the gentle girl. He did not wish to nullify what they had gained so far that afternoon. His head came up slowly.

Maurette gasped inwardly. Those gray-green eyes, which were so vaguely and yet so unmistakably familiar to her, had within their depths the same ravening hatred that she had glimpsed in the Ravenshead crest. Maurette's heart lurched in her chest. She backed away from Lucius, and as he moved to stop her flight, she bolted across the sand. Grasping her arm, Lucius jolted her to a stop. He turned her to face him. The hatred had left his eyes, and only a question remained in their softened depths.

"Why do you run from me, Maurette?" he said gently.

"I saw…they were the same…" Maurette gasped for air and tried to push away from him.

"What did you see?"

"In your eyes… the hatred."

"Do you blame me, Maurette?" he said, grasping her shoulders. "Do you blame my hatred of terrible injustice?"

"I do not know," she cried. "I do not know about injustice. No one will tell me. What is the injustice, Lucius?"

Maurette raised her eyes to him in a question. He smiled tenderly.

"Do you think I do not know that your first loyalty is to my uncle? He must be the one to tell you of our differences. You must needs see them from his perspective. Then, if you would hear me, I would speak of them on my own." Lucius released her. "Tell me this, Maurette," he inquired gently. "Are you truly happy here at Ravenshead?"

Maurette turned from him and began a slow walk across the beach. "I am not unhappy, Lucius," she said softly.

Lucius fell into step beside her. "You are discontented then," he said.

"Perhaps that is the word. Everyone seems to be keeping secrets from me. Your mother seems to feel a hostility toward me that I cannot fathom."

Lucius cast his eyes out to sea. "My mother, may the gods be with her, is a fool."

Maurette regarded him with bemusement. "How can you say that, Lucius?"

"I did not mean to offend you, Maurette," he said hastily. " 'Tis only that the dear old thing rarely knows what she wants. Her obstinacy on some occasions is appalling. The one thing on which she is constant is her devotion to Dominic, or at least the care of his family home.

Maurette nodded. "She told me as much."

"In truth, I understand her feelings. I, too, am bound to Ravenshead."

"And yet, you are not welcome here," Maurette said.

Lucius turned away from her, his anger rising. He did not want the events of moments before to be repeated. "No," he stated sharply, keeping his eyes averted. "And 'tis the bane of my life."

Maurette stopped and placed a delicate hand on his arm. "You must rein in this terrible anger, Lucius. You must speak to Dominic. I would intercede for you."

His head came around, and he gazed down at Maurette's upturned face. "You would do this for me?"

"I cannot promise the results, Lucius, but I can speak to Dominic on your behalf." Maurette looked up into his clear gaze. She knew that her fears of the moment before were irrational. This young man was no feral bird of prey. Gratitude shone in his soft smile. "I shall say to Dominic that I wish him to at reevaluate his decision. That is the most I can promise, Lucius."

" 'Tis enough, Maurette," he said fondly. "I thanks you with all my heart." He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. Brushing it with a tender kiss, he said, "Dominic Warbrooke is well blessed."

Maurette withdrew her hand. She realized that she must be careful where this young man was concerned. She must keep a watch on her emotions, for he was both bold and tender. She was only eighteen, and he not much more than that, and they were obviously susceptible to each other's youthful charms. Nevertheless, Lucius was, in truth, an outlaw on Dominic's property. Maurette tilted a glance at him from under shadowed lids. He was, of certainty, one of the handsomest young men that she had ever met. If she were a carefree young maiden in London, her flirting instincts would have taken over by now. She smiled inwardly. Perhaps those instincts had already taken over. Lucius was a most persuasive suitor. However, Maurette must check herself; she was no carefree young maiden, and this was Ravenshead.

"You must make me a vow, Lucius," Maurette said as she continued along the beach. "You must vow that, if I somehow succeed in this business, you will attempt to make amends with your uncle."

Walking along beside her, Lucius smiled. "You would be a maker of miracles if you could accomplish peace between us, Maurette."

"That is not my purpose but your, Lucius. You must make your own peace with Dominic. I can only attempt to discern his temper on this matter. The rest will be up to you."

"I can only tell you that I shall be open to whatever suggestions you make, Maurette."

"That is as much as I could ask, Lucius."

"Will you allow me to ask you a question?" he said gently.

"What is it?"

"Why do you agree to this, not knowing the problem that exists between us?"

Maurette sighed audibly. "I suppose I am convinced that no problem exists within a family that cannot be solved if love exists among its members." She saw Lucius stiffen. "Oh, you hate him now, or so you imagine, Lucius, but Dominic is your mother's brother. There are ties of love here that will never be unbound."

Again, Lucius averted his eyes. "You could be right, Maurette," he said softly.

"I am right, Lucius. Why do you and your mother insist on remaining here? Ravenshead is your home. It represents family, your family. You have a proud heritage. Such deeply rooted attachments are not so easily broken. This rift must be terrible for Dominic as well. I would see peace within the walls of his house. I would see that he has peace within his soul."

Lucius shook his head raptly. "I pray my uncle can see his sweet fortune in your love." He stopped and took Maurette's arm in his hand. Turning her to face him, he asked, "Why did you seek the seclusion of this little stretch of beach?"

"In truth, I did not know it existed," she said honestly. She smiled. "You uncle is not mistreating me, if that is your worry."

"Why then did you leave the castle? Or," he said, his eyes narrowing, "were you expelled-tasted, chewed, and spit out?"

Maurette laughed. "Your mother had not been unkind, exactly, but I have been made to know that the Castle Ravenshead, for all its vastness, is large enough for only one mistress. In any event, I believe that peace has been made between us. 'Twas only that I sought solitude for a time today."

Lucius cocked a sand-colored brow. "Solitude?"

"The solitude of choice, little nephew," Maurette said, attempting to withdrew her arm from his grasp. Lucius smiled down at her struggles. Then, realizing that they were standing very near the edge of the water, Maurette squealed. "Lucius, you must let me go. Just when my slippers were beginning to dry."

" 'Tis a remedy I have learned for anyone wishing solitude," he said solemnly and walked her further into the gently surging water.

"You are a monster, Lucius Hamilton." Maurette giggled. She tugged against his grasp, but he held her tight.

"You really must refrain from such an uncomplimentary designation, auntie, thought just might happen to be true."

He drew her a little farther into the waves. She lurched away from him, and catching him off balance, she pushed him into the billowing swells. Losing his footing on the polished stones beneath his feet, Lucius stumbled backward and nearly fell into the water. Maurette put her hands on her hips and saucily enjoyed his predicament. She realized too late that he was set on grim retaliation. Regaining his balance, he lunged from the water and grabbed at her. She broke free of his grasp and ran headlong down the beach, but he was to fast for her. Laughing wildly, the struggled at the water's edge. Finally, he gave one last tremendous effort and, with his arm firmly locked about her waist, pulled her with him into the gentle surf. Loosening his grip deliberately, he allowed her own strength to pull her away from him and plunk her, thrashing and giggling, down into the shallow water.

He stood above her, his head thrown back in gloating laughter. Maurette bounded up and, arms stiffened in front of her, she ran into him. He went down with a splash, and not it was Maurette who gloated. The tables turned back upon her so quickly that she did not know what had happened. Suddenly, his big hands had encircled each of her wrists, and she found herself sitting in the cold water next to him. The shock took her breath away, but she regained it and was soon laughing helplessly.

Lucius stood up finally and shook his dripping hair on her, before lifting her from the surf and carrying her onto the beach. One muscled arm beneath her shoulders and one beneath her knees, he walked up onto the dry bank. Laying her down on the sunlit rock where they had eaten earlier in the afternoon, he gently removed her sodden cloak and laid it across a nearby bush to dry. He stood over her, gazing down at her slender form.

Her bodice was soaked, and her opaline breasts heaved beneath the wetness of her gown. The cold air caused her nipples to form hard buds beneath the cloth, and it strained with each breath. Lucius was hard pressed not to touch her shimmering skin. The shape of her slender hips and long legs was visible through her sodden petticoats. He knelt on one knee and breathed in the lovely sight. Maurette, unaware of his perusal, lay on the warm stone, basking in the late afternoon sun. Her eyes were closed and her soft lips curved into a smile.

"I hope," she said lazily, "that I can reenter the castle without anyone seeing me."

"Jonathan misses noting, my lady," Lucius said huskily.

"Help me then, little nephew, to think of some excuse for my unseemly appearance."

There was a long pause before Lucius answered her. His bantering tone, when he did, had vanished.

"I would help you in every way possible," he said gently as he hovered over her.

Maurette raised her eyelids slowly. "You miss my meaning, I fear," she said warily.

"I but give your words the meaning that I wish they had," he said, brushing a wet tendril of hair from her soft cheek. He gazed down on her with tenderness and warmth. Maurette felt the desire to reach up and brush the dripping tousled hair from his forehead. His dark eyelashes were spiked with moisture, and he looked very young and boyishly vulnerable.

"Oh, Lucius," she breathed. His head dipped, and his face was inches from her own. "Please," she whispered very softly. She desperately desired his lips upon her at that moment, and at the same time, she hoped that he could hold himself in check. "Please, Lucius, be stronger that I," she said, fighting tears. Her voice pleaded while her body ached for his touch.

Lucius realized that, in her vulnerable state, he could easily take advantage of this luscious young woman. But he knew, too, that this was not perhaps the time. She would hate him afterward, and he did not want that.

"I shall wait." He whispered into the delicate shell of her ear. He mustered every ounce of control that he possessed and drew himself up and away from Maurette.

Maurette did not know whether she was happy or not that Lucius had exercised his self-control, but she breathed a relieved sign and then pulled herself into a sitting position. She watched the broad back that faced her and wondered at her own self-control. She wondered when she would again meet the handsome and desirable young Lucius and if she would be capable of resisting the charms of his youthful manhood. She tore her gaze away from him and began to rise. He turned and helped her. Carrying her sodden cloak, he followed as Maurette made her way up the path to the curtain wall. He lifted the soggy train that trailed behind her, and they both laughed at the picture they presented to any watcher.

It was with regret that Maurette faced when they had made their way through the thick stone wall. She knew that she must never again meet him alone. She could not trust herself. Lucius placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I pray," she said, "that one day we shall meet as a family. I shall do my best to intercede with Dominic on your behalf."

He eyes held hers in a gray-green gaze. "I would be all to you, Maurette," he said and grazed her check with a soft kiss.

"I love Dominic," she murmured softly. "He is everything to me." Their eyes locked and the determined set of her chin told him that, for now, he must be content with what he had achieved this afternoon. For the moment, he must not press for more.

"I understand," he said gently. "And though I respect for now your sweet loyalty to my uncle, I tell you this. If ever you need my support, I shall attend you. Remember that, Maurette."

>From a tower embrasure high above, an icy green-silver gaze bore into them. Below, Maurette shivered. The pale afternoon sun had crossed the sky and was about to set. Lucius noted her trembling and placed an arm around her shoulders. At the entrance to the castle, he watched her delicate form as she left him to traverse the rest of the way by herself. His eyes narrowed as he watched her melt into the huge entryway. When she had disappeared, his gaze lifted. A silent correspondence took place between the lofty watcher and the young Lucius. Both knew that Dominic Warbrooke would react most ungentle to Maurette's dalliance with his nephew and that, before the afternoon was over, he would most certainly be apprised of it.