“Will you, Katherine Daltry, do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

Kate had been dimly aware that there were men in the garden, that Henry had crossed the street, that servants and bystanders and likely most of London were gawking through the railings. She heard a little rumble from them now, like the sound of laughter infecting a whole city.

She put out a hand. “You do me too much honor,” she said.

He stayed where he was.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He bounded up and swung her in a circle, and the golden sparks flying away through black boughs swung crazily in the air as she laughed. Henry was laughing, and Leo was in the park too now, and last of all, Gabriel was laughing. A deep, joyful laugh with an edge of triumph and possession that made her heart beat quickly.

“I have,” he said a moment later, “a special license.” And he drew it out of his pocket.

Then Henry was there, hugging Kate, and Leo too, smelling like spicy brandy.

“Tomorrow morning,” Henry dictated. So it was to be.

To her shame, Kate didn’t even remember to ask what would support the castle; they were all seated around the supper table when Henry broached the subject. Kate was trying to ignore the fact that Gabriel was rubbing his leg against hers.

“So, prince,” Henry said, “how do you plan to keep my goddaughter, not to mention that castle of yours, in the manner to which she has a right to expect? Now that you’re not marrying for money,” she added, throwing Kate a wicked glance.

But Kate had her own ideas about when she would inform Gabriel of her dowry.

“I sold a book,” Gabriel said calmly. “I got a whopping advance, enough to support the castle and Kate for well over a year, even if she indulges in glass slippers. By that point, the surrounding estate should be profitable enough to support the castle in plain fashion, if not a princely one.”

Kate’s mouth fell open. “A book about archaeology?”

“About the archaeological excavation of Carthage,” he said. “With plentiful details about the life of daily people at the time.”

“That is Gabriel’s particular interest,” Kate said to Henry and Leo. “He is one of the very few archaeologists who thinks that an ordinary man’s life is as interesting as that of a king.”

“It depends on the man,” Henry said. But her eyes were fascinated. “I didn’t realize publishers even paid people to write books. I thought they just did it”—she waved her hand—“for the love of it, or something.”

“Even I know that!” Kate said, laughing at her.

“I haven’t read a book in years,” Henry replied, unperturbed. “But I’ll make an exception.”

“Gold lettering in a three-volume set,” Gabriel said. “By subscription only.”

“In that case I will definitely read it,” Henry said. “I will buy it in duplicate. And so will everyone else I know,” she assured him.

“You’re brilliant,” Kate said, beaming at him. “I’m just so—I’m so proud.”

“What on earth happened to that little Russian girl?” Leo asked.

“Fobbed her off on Toloose,” Gabriel said proudly. “It took me two weeks of throwing them together. After all that, he came to me and said he had to return to London, because he couldn’t bear it any longer, so I yanked him into the maze and told him to do his damnedest. A day later Tatiana’s uncle pulled me aside with all sorts of lavish apologies.”

A hand slid onto her thigh, under the tablecloth.

“You’re practically my wife,” Gabriel said in her ear. “That means groping is allowed.”

“Amazing how even a prince can take on the look of a naughty curate,” Henry said to her husband.

But Kate wasn’t listening.

A t midnight Kate told herself again that Gabriel was a gentleman. A prince . Of course he wasn’t going to sneak along the corridor of Henry’s house, as if he were indeed a naughty curate.

She was the one with the depraved imagination, clearly.

There was a noise.

But it wasn’t from her door.

She ran over to the window and pulled open the sash. “Thank God,” Gabriel said, hauling himself up and swinging a leg over. “I nearly toppled into the garden.”

“Hush,” Kate whispered, pulling him into the room. “I’m not sure Henry and Leo are asleep yet.”

“They aren’t,” Gabriel said. “They’re down there in the library, and we really should tell them tomorrow that disporting themselves on the hearth rug ought to be done with drawn curtains.”

Kate started giggling madly. “No!”

Gabriel’s mouth quirked too, but there was an intent wildness to his gaze that didn’t leave much room for laughter. Without saying another word he began to untie his cravat.

“Oh,” Kate said nervously. And then, “Aren’t you going to tell me more about the book?”

“No.”

“Did Tatiana mind losing you?”

“She saw my mad dash when you left. I think she had doubts about the happiness of the marriage, and rightly so. Plus Toloose is so much more elegant than I am. They’re pretty as paint together.”

“You ran after me?”

His face took on a drawn ferocity. “Don’t ever leave me again, Kate. I couldn’t take it.”

“I didn’t leave you,” she protested. “That is, I had no choice. Are you taking off your coat?”

“I’m taking everything off. And unless you’d like me to undress you, you might consider doing the same.”

“Shouldn’t we wait until tomorrow?” she asked, feeling an unaccountable burst of shyness.

“No.”

He was down to his smalls.

“Oh,” she said faintly. “I forgot . . .”

“I didn’t forget anything,” he said with satisfaction, reaching out and pulling free the tie to her negligée. He pushed it off her shoulders, and she saw a glint of appreciation in his eyes. When Kate hadn’t felt like going in society, Henry had ordered half the modistes in London to attend her at home.

She was wearing a creation so delicate and yet erotic that it could only be made for a princess. Gabriel swallowed visibly. “That’s a wicked, wicked gown.” There was a ring of admiration in his voice.

Kate reached for the simple little tie that kept the whole confection of lace and transparent silk floating around her body. He didn’t say a word, so she untied it, and then, very simply, stepped forward, letting it fall in a cloud around her toes.

Gabriel picked her up and carried her to the bed, putting her down as delicately as one of his broken pottery shards. “I didn’t forget anything, not a detail, about the times we made love,” he told her. “But there was one thing that I never had the chance to do during those times.”

“What?” Kate asked, hearing her voice catch.

“This,” he said. And with that he ran his hands down her body and without hesitation took full possession of her most intimate parts.

“What are you doing?” Kate cried, rearing up. But as his mouth followed his hands, she stopped asking, because all she could do was gasp. And then cry aloud. And finally, shriek.