‘How would you know what I say, since you show no desire to be at my side?’ His thrusts increased their tempo, bordering on violence, and she could feel the pressure building inside her, ready to break. ‘At least when I bed you I know that you are not thinking of another.’

And in truth she could think of nothing at all but him, and what he could do to her. Her body was liquid, hot and wet. Release was moments away. A few more thrusts would send her spinning over the edge. And he knew what he was doing to her, for he had five years’ practice in making her respond. He slowed again and began to withdraw. She bucked her hips under him, trying to deepen the penetration.

And then he gritted his teeth in a pained smile, and said, ‘Speak my name. Tell me that you want me.’

‘Harry,’ she whispered.

He gave a single thrust. ‘Louder.’

‘Harry, please.’ She pushed against him, wriggling her hips.

‘That’s better. Now, tell me there will be no other but me. Tell me, or I swear I will withdraw and leave you unfinished.’

‘You can’t,’ she gasped.

‘I can.’ And he thrust gently, just enough to keep her on edge.

It was so good that she didn’t care what came tomorrow if she could have this moment. ‘Not fair,’ she panted.

‘All’s fair in love and war,’ he muttered against her throat, and thrust into her again.

‘Love.’ He was filling her senses, and she struggled to remember if he had ever used the word to her, even in jest.

He paused again, and then rocked gently against her until she was trembling under him, dying for release. ‘You are the one that wants war, not I. Now, tell me you love me. That you will be mine for always.’

He was moving slowly inside her, awaking every nerve. She struggled to reach for him, but he held her fast. She whipped her head from side to side, until she found his wrist and rubbed her cheek against it, groaning. ‘I am yours, heart and mind and body. Always. Please…’ And she felt her body clench at the words, and then go to pieces in spasms of rapture.

He felt it too, and laughed, then fixed his mouth on hers and smothered her screams of pleasure as he pounded into her body. He fell shaking against her, helpless with the strength of his own release.

When she could catch her breath, she whispered, ‘I do love you, Harry. Truly.’

In response, he released a surprisingly shaky sigh and whispered back, ‘At last. I despaired of ever hearing you admit it. I have loved you to distraction since the first moment I saw you.’

‘You have?’ She could not keep the wonder from her voice.

‘Indeed.’

‘You never said so.’

He laughed. ‘I thought I had made it abundantly clear when we came together.’

‘I knew you were happy with me in that way,’ she whispered.

He groaned. ‘Delighted. Ecstatic. Delirious.’

‘But I thought perhaps a good marriage should be more.’

‘A good marriage is whatever we choose it to be, my darling,’ he whispered back, and kissed her again. ‘And while ours happens to be a very satisfying physical relationship, I feel it is more than that. Do you know how I have missed you since you have been in London? The sound of your voice, the sight of you each morning at breakfast, the little things you did to bring joy to my life every single day. My only regret has been that I gained you through trickery. I was afraid that some day you might discover the truth and I would lose you. It seemed as though I was for ever on guard, lest in some impulsive moment I revealed too much. But you left me anyway. The secrecy was for naught.’

He looked worried now that he had told her. Could that have been the great mystery all along? That he had loved her past all honour, since the very first? She felt the thrill of it go through her. And then she relaxed against him for what seemed like the first time. For why did she need to be wary of losing a man who wanted her with such uncontrollable passion? She noticed the way his arm drew her tight, as it always did after they made love, as though he would never let her go. Perhaps it had always been thus and she had never noticed.

She turned her face to him and kissed his chest. ‘It was very wicked of you,’ she said. ‘But I think I can forgive it after all this time.’

He broke into a grin, then, and hugged her again.

She blinked. ‘If you can forgive me for Tremaine. I did not understand how you felt.’

He stroked her hair. ‘If you have come back to me, then what does the past matter?’ He looked away from her then, and said, as though it did not matter, ‘Of course it made me very jealous.’

She poked him in the ribs. ‘You worked very hard at hiding it until just recently. I did not think you cared a jot for how I behaved.’

‘I told myself that he would take no greater liberties than he had already, even when you were free. But if I was wrong…’ He paused again, and said with difficulty, ‘I understand how much you long for children. But I have not been able to give them to you.’ He paused and touched her belly. ‘If there is any reason why you might need to return to him, or any likelihood of an occurrence that we might need to explain, then it would be best if you told me sooner and not later.’

She could feel the tenseness between his shoulderblades as he waited for her answer. But his grip on her did not loosen. It stayed as protective and gentle as ever, even as he discussed the possibility of raising another man’s bastard. She looked up at him, and for the first time she was sure, beyond a doubt, that he loved her.

‘Harry,’ she whispered, and hugged him back. ‘You have nothing to fear. There has never been anyone but you. Nor will there be.’ She frowned, and then pushed forward with her own greatest fear. ‘There will be no surprises of that kind because of my time away. But what if there are to be no surprises at all? Even after I come home? We have been together for years, Harry, and nothing has happened. It has been so long.’ And she waited, afraid that he would turn from her again.

He smiled, and it was sad, and then he gathered her close to him again. ‘It has. But we are not too old yet, I think. And if we are not blessed then we will have to content ourselves with the future God has sent us. In any case, there is not another woman in the world I would wish at my side.’

He reached for his jacket and pulled it over them, to try to keep back the chill. It was hopeless, for the narrow tails did little to cover their bare legs, and they struggled with it, tangling together until she was laughing again. Then he reached into a pocket and withdrew the box he had offered her before.

‘Look what I still have for you. Will you accept your gift from me now? You have given me what I want.’ He kissed down the side of her neck. ‘Let me give this to you.’

Her laughter disappeared at the sight of the box. He had made her laugh. Made her believe in him again. But here he was with another jewellery box, likely to stop talking and spoil it all. ‘Must you?’

He shook his head and smiled softly. ‘You do not want more jewels? I fear I do not understand women at all. I certainly do not understand you, darling, although if you open this box you will see that I am trying to do better.’ He hesitated. ‘But, before you do, let me assure you that the thing you read in the paper was nothing. I swear. There is no problem with money that will not fix itself, given time. Do not think that the value of this gift implies a lack of funds.’

She leaned back to examine his face, and was surprised to see the trepidation there. It did seem that he was unusually worried about her response.

‘Do not be silly, Harry. It is not the value of the gift that matters to me. It never has been. As I have told you, time and time again, I do not wish any more jewellery from you. But if you mean to give me the thing, and I can no longer avoid it, then let us get it over with.’ She steeled herself and reached for the box.

He was obviously rethinking the wisdom of his gift, for he pulled it away from her at the last minute. ‘We will see how serious you are when you say that. For the contents of this box are really nothing at all. Nothing more than foolishness. But when I made it for you I did not think how it might appear…’

‘You made it for me?’ Surely she had not heard him correctly.

But he nodded, and coloured like an embarrassed schoolboy. ‘We will go to London and get you a real gift once the guests have gone…’

‘We most certainly will not,’ she said, and snatched the box from his hands, popping open the lid.

Inside, lying on a bed of velvet, as though it came from the finest jeweller in London, was a tiny straw heart, threaded through with the same ribbon she had used for the Christmas ornaments.

He poked it with a finger. ‘I fear I am not much good at braiding, although I have seen you do it often enough. I worked for the better part of an afternoon, and the results are still quite sad. But I wanted to give you my heart on a string for Christmas. You have always had it, you know. But I did not truly miss it until you were gone. I am empty without you.’

She kissed him then, with an enthusiasm that took him quite by surprise. She was crushing the box between them, and further mangling his gift, not caring in the least whether it was crooked, or crude, as long as it came from her darling Harry.

He pulled away, catching his breath. ‘It is all right, then?’

‘It is the most perfect thing I have ever seen.’ She picked up the ribbon and held it out to him. ‘Put it on me-for I mean to wear it until Twelfth Night.’

He was embarrassed again. ‘Not in front of the guests, surely?’

‘Until you wish to take it off me again.’ She gave him an inviting smile and rubbed her bare leg against his. He sighed happily in response, and took the necklace from her.

There was a knock at the door.

Which they ignored.

His hands were at the back of her neck, fumbling with the ribbon, but his lips were on her throat, warming the place where the straw was lying. She snuggled back into the wool of his jacket, squirming against him to distract him, until he had to start all over again and give her even more kisses while he re-tied the bow.

The knock came again-this time more insistent. And a polite clearing of the throat which, if it was to be heard through the heavy oak door, must have been as loud as a normal man’s shout. It was followed by the butler’s soft, ‘Your lordship? I would not normally trouble you, sir. Under the circumstances…But this is urgent.’

Elise wondered what it could possibly be that should be deemed that important, and hoped it was nothing Rosalind had done. For one more evening the house must run itself, without her help.

Harry rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated groan. He answered, ‘A moment, please.’ Then he slipped out from under the jacket and covered her up again, struggling into trousers and shirt, going barefoot to the door. He tried the knob, and then remembered the key, still hot in the coals. ‘Do you have your keys, Benton?’ he muttered. ‘You must open the door from your side. I will explain later. Or perhaps not.’

A moment later, there was a rattling of the lock, and the door opened far enough for the butler to proffer a piece of paper.

Harry took it, unfolded the thing, and read in silence for a moment before exploding with an oath. ‘Damn the man. Damn him to hell. For that is where I will send him once I catch him. I cannot believe the audacity.’

‘What is it, dear? Who do you mean to send to hell?’ She could not help but smile when she looked at him.

‘Your lover.’ He glared down at her. ‘I dare say you will be none too happy with him either. Tremaine has run off to Scotland. And he has taken my sister. I swear, Elise, this is outside of enough.’ He slapped the note in his hand. ‘“Dear Harry-” And whenever have I been the least bit dear to the blighter? “-I wish you well in this happiest of seasons.” Ha! “May it bring you a happy reunion with our beloved Elise.” Our beloved? The nerve of the man…“Since my services are no longer needed, I must away. And since you no longer need Rosalind as hostess she means to join me. We travel north to Gretna Green, and then to warmer climes. Do not expect to hear from us until spring, for Rosalind craves more adventure than Shropshire can offer, and I do not wish to deny her. Merry Christmas. Your new brother, Tremaine.”’

Harry shook the paper again, and then crumpled it in his fist. ‘The bastard has stolen my sister.’

‘Your half-sister,’ Elise reminded him. ‘Who, lest you have forgotten, is well of age, and should have married long before now.’

‘But to Tremaine?’ Harry made a face as though he was tasting something foul. ‘Tremaine.’ He shook his head and mouthed the name to himself again. ‘Why must it be him?’