The First Snowdrop

He was begi

Last night he had not even been able to content himself with having her once. He had woken up during the night to find his cheek resting against her soft curls. Her head was nestled as usual against his shoulder. He had turned his head, and immediately his nostrils had been filled with the very distinctive smell of her, that clean soap smell. He had tried to control the desire that had arisen in him as he became more aware of the warmth of her, of the softness of her flesh touching his. He had lost the battle. He had taken her almost in anger, and when she had woken with a little whimper as he thrust inside her, he had been further enflamed. He recalled now that, instead of crying with pain or fright, she had clung to him, her fingernails drawing blood from his back, her passion quickly matching his own.

She was making him her slave, and she must know it. And he hated her for it. He would not let any woman, least of all her, take away from him his freedom to control his own actions. He had ten more days of this torture to endure before he could pack her off back to Redlands, where she belonged, and begin to forget her and get his life back in order again.

Merrick turned in his chair as the door at the other end of the ballroom opened and Claude entered again. With him, surprisingly, was Grandpapa, leaning heavily on a cane and peering fiercely at A

"Now, what is this?" the duke asked gruffly. "Claude tells me that you are acting like a wooden soldier, Alex. It won't do, you know. You used to be one of the family's star turns. You two are having problems with your marriage, eh? Can't understand why, Alex. She's a pretty-enough little thing and nicely behaved."

"Grandpapa," Merrick said harshly, crossing the room again, "the condition of our marriage is a matter entirely between A

"And quite right too, my boy," the duke said, looking at his grandson from beneath drawn brows, "and my marriage is my concern. At the moment the happiness of Her Grace depends a great deal on the success of this play. I don't necessarily understand why it is so important to her, but it is. And what is important to Her Grace is important to me. From now on, you will know your lines, my boy, and you will act them as What's-his-name intended them to be acted when he wrote them. And your feelings for your wife will not be allowed to intrude. Is that clear?"

Merrick's hands formed into fists at his sides as he glared back. The two men took each other's measure for long moments as the pair of spectators looked on with bated breath.

Merrick relaxed suddenly. "I always said that your bark was worse than your bite, Grandpapa," he said, "but I never knew anyone whose bark was quite so fierce. Now would you kindly leave so that Claude can start bullying A

The duke left.

Chapter 9

After di

Even the older people were delighted. The duchess had been prevailed upon to allow them all the afternoon free. Her daughters, Maud and Sarah, with their cousin, Fa

A

In fact, Peregrine had been downright good that morning, holding them all in stitches in the scene in which he pretended to be making love to Constance Neville for his mother, Mrs. Hardcastle's, benefit and then incurred the latter's wrath by insisting that she read aloud a letter that referred to her as "that old hag."

Aunt Maud had been good, too. One would have sworn that she was about to burst her corsets with indignation. Even Alexander seemed to have mastered his distaste of acting opposite her. When they had repeated this morning the scene that had caused so many problems the afternoon before, his ma

"Please, Kitty's ball is in the tree," a tiny voice said from beside her, and A

"What's that?" A

"Kitty's ball is in the tree," the child repeated solemnly. "Davie kicked it there after Nurse had told him to keep it on the ground. But when Kitty told him he was for it, he said a bad word. And Kitty is crying."

"Oh, dear," A

"Yes, please," the child said. "If Papa comes and finds out that Davie said a bad word, he won't be allowed to come to the hill with us. And it won't be such fun to go without Davie, because I should be feeling sorry for him all the time I was there."

"I see," said A

Kitty was indeed crying with loud wails. She was a smaller replica of her sister, even down to the crooked hair ribbon. Davie, a thin lad of about ten, stood defiantly a few feet away from her, legs apart, arms folded, looking as if he might apologize if he could only be persuaded that it was not an unmanly thing to do.

"Now, where is this ball?" A

Kitty paused long enough to look up at the new arrival and point to a branch above their heads, where a bright-blue ball had been trapped by the foliage. She gave her brother an accusing glare and then began to howl again.

"Now," said A