Captivated

your return.'

'My return,' she softly murmured.

'You'll rule with or without an heir. The stipulation requiring a child is in effect only so long as your husband remains on the throne.'

She nodded and rose from her chair. 'Godspeed,' she murmured, 'in this treacherous game of state.'

chapter 3

They fled the estate two nights later, Pierce having smuggled three mounts out of the stables. By morning they were halfway to London, and after stopping briefly at Dalsany House for fresh horses, clothes, and a quick luncheon, they continued north to the marquis's estate at Woodhill. It was dark by the time they arrived, but within minutes lights were blazing from every window, the entire staff bustling to see that the master and his guest were made comfortable.

The princess was introduced to Hugh's majordomo, his housekeeper, steward, and, at the last, his chaplain, John Wright, who said with a smile, 'Hugh and I have been friends since boyhood. He's very generous with his tenants and the parish.' By omission, the princess understood, the chaplain overlooked the less righteous qualities of his patron. And after a variety of orders had been transmitted by the marquis to his staff, he and the princess retired to his chambers.

'So this is where you were going to rusticate when I took you away,' she said, gazing out on the moonlight lawns.

'This is wherewe're going to rusticate,' he corrected, coming up behind her and enclosing her in his arms. 'Just past those hills is the village. I'll take you there tomorrow and show you off.'

'And no one will wonder who I am?'

'Let them wonder. A Princess Sofia is sharing my life. What else do they have to know. And if I love you, they will, too. Life is very simple here,' he went on, filled with a rare contentment, the warmth of her body against his sufficient to make him believe in paradise.

'A simple life sounds very nice,' she softly said, covering his hands with hers.

'We'll raise our child here. Our children. And if this is insanity,' he said, a smile in his voice, 'don't wake me up.' 'Nor me,' she murmured, tears welling in her eyes.

The days passed in such joyful pleasure, the marquis and princess found themselves feeling pity for the rest of the world. They spent every minute together in a kind of harmony poets portrayed in lyrical stanzas and sonnets and those less poetical condemned as fantasy. They lay abed some days and made endless love; on others, they rose at dawn and rode or walked the estate, the gardens, the village lanes. Everywhere they went, people turned to watch them, such happiness startling, awesome, as if bliss and exaltation had taken corporeal form.

And when, after a fortnight, the princess noticed her courses hadn't come and shyly told the marquis, he decided to call the entire household and village to a celebration feast. 'I won't embarrass you,' he said, grinning from ear to ear. 'We'll call it some summer harvest festival or the name day of some saint; we'll think of something.' But many a watchful eye that day and evening when the parish ate and drank and danced on the marquis's front lawn took note of the marquis's tender attention to his princess and a countdown of days began.

'He'll have to marry her now,' the housekeeper stoutly said, tipsy after several glasses of the marquis's best wine, 'or his heir won't come into the title right and tight.'

'Can't if'n she's married already,' the head groom noted, casting a cool gaze at the housekeeper.

'He'll have to buy her a divorce then,' the majordomo solemnly maintained, his hauteur still intact despite numerous glasses of the aqua vitae he favored. 'The House of Lords does it all for a tidy sum.'

'Which himself can afford. Did you see the new diamonds he gave to the princess? She wore them to dinner last night.'

'And also while swimming in the pool in the white garden this morning, I hear,' the groom roguishly pronounced.

'You tell those nasty stable lads to mind their own business or I'll box their ears,' the housekeeper hotly returned. 'I declare, there's not a speck of manners between the lot of them.'

And as the evening progressed, bets were made and taken on the arrival date of the marquis's new heir.

While the master and his guest enjoyed the festivities in their own private way.

At ten, they excused themselves to a roar of ribald cheers and comment and retired to a small guest cottage beyond the noise of the festivities on the manor lawn.

The small stone house was lit by candles, the golden glow warm and inviting, the scent of lilies and roses permeating the rooms. Vases of flowers stood on tables and consoles, a cold supper had been left in the small dining parlor, the bed had been turned down in the tiny bedroom tucked under the eaves.

'Do you like it?' Hugh asked, holding her hand in his as they stood on the threshold of the bedroom.

'It's like a doll house or a fairy tale cottage.'

'And quiet.'

'Yes. But everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. You're much loved.'

'John and my steward see to most of it. They're very competent.'

'They couldn't do it without your approval.' She knew firsthand how brutal and uncaring authority could be.

'My tenants might as well enjoy some of the benefits of my wealth, too. I'll show you my farms at Alderly tomorrow. We're trying out some new crops and machinery.'

She smiled, thinking how different the country marquis from his libertine persona. 'I'd like that,' she said.

'Is there anything else you'd like?' he murmured, bending to nibble on her ear.

'Supper in bed?' she teased. 'I'm famished all the time.'

'And you should be. I want my baby well fed,' he lightly declared. 'Now, lie down and I'll bring up food and feed you.'

'Youare a darling.'

'And you're the love of my life,' he murmured, drawing her into his arms.

That night, after their supper and after they'd made love, much later when the moon was moving toward the horizon, he quietly said, holding her in his arms, 'I want you to divorce your husband.'

He felt her stiffen in his arms.

'I can have a divorce secured without fanfare. No one need know the details or circumstances. My lawyers will be discreet.'

'My husband won't allow it.'

'I'll see that he does.' He spoke with an authority that had never been gainsaid.

'Let's talk about it in the morning. Would you mind?'

'No, of course not,' he gently said. 'I'll do whatever you wish. But you know I want this child to be legitimately mine.'

'I know,' she whispered, and, reaching up, she kissed him, tears welling in her eyes.

'Don't cry. I'll make everything right,' he tenderly said, wiping her tears away with the back of his hand.

'I know you will.' Her smile quivered for only a moment.

She was gone when he woke in the morning.

He tore the house apart, the village, the parish, searching for any clue to her whereabouts. He hired detectives from London, from Paris, but there was no Prince Marko and consort; he had every British consulate looking for her, too, without success. She'd disappeared, as if the earth had swallowed her up.

When he retired from the world shortly after, there was talk of various maladies and illnesses. Some said he'd turned hermit as penance for his numerous sins; those who knew him better saw his desperate pain and sorrow and worried for his sanity. But as the weeks turned into months, he came to accept Sofia 's disappearance as inevitable and the rhythm of his life settled into a pattern measured only by the seasons of the field and farm. He kept to his estate at Woodhill, although his closest friends would come to visit. He traveled to London only rarelyfor the marriage of his niece and later that of his friend Charles, or for business once or twice a year; he appeared at