"What business is that?" she asked finally.

"I have some property," Elizabeth said. "The taxes need to be paid. And there are some debts of my father's I'd like to settle," she added, and then wondered why she had.

"I believe that my husband can be of some assistance to you in that matter," Mrs. Schuyler said quietly. "Unless there is some other reason you wish to be on your way so quickly."

Elizabeth saw doubt flit across Nathaniel's face, and then, with a glance at her, he shrugged. "If General Schuyler can lend a hand with sorting out the paperwork, then we'll stay and be glad of the warm," he said. "It's cold at night still on the river."

"So it is," Catherine Schuyler admitted with considerable satisfaction, and she excused herself to go speak to her housekeeper.

"Bears," she said, turning back from the door. "Perhaps you could go after Anton and General Schuyler and see what is keeping them. I would guess they are down at the sawmill. They will want to hear the news, and then," she said with a satisfied smile, "there is work enough to keep them busy."

Elizabeth, keenly aware of being alone with Nathaniel, walked to the window to look down the sloping lawns toward the Hudson. It was midafternoon, a beautiful and clear day. Her wedding day. She put her forehead against the pane of glass and forced herself to breathe deeply.

He came up behind her and she put out her hand to him. Nathaniel took it silently, and tugged her so that she had to pivot to face him, stepping backward until her shoulders touched the wall. He was unshaven, and his face was worn with sleeplessness. But in his eyes there was no tension, and something else, something fine and welcome to her.

"We could both use a good night's sleep," she said softly, feeling the rough flocking on the wallpaper against her lower arms where she pressed her hands flat.

"Could we both?" Nathaniel asked with a half smile. "Aye, I suppose we could." With one arm propped on the wall above her head, he leaned in toward her, his head at an angle. From the corner of her eye Elizabeth saw the door crack open and then slap smartly closed; heard the giggle.

"People are watching," she whispered.

"Then let's make it worth their trouble," he said, and he kissed her there against Mrs. Schuyler's good wallpaper.

When she could trust her voice she said, "Is that the best you can do?"

Nathaniel grinned at that. "Well," he said slowly, his breath moving the hair at her temple. "I'm mighty tired, you understand, and I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep. But I'll give it another go."

There was a warm, newly familiar pulsing in Elizabeth's stomach as Nathaniel leaned toward her, his shoulders blocking out the rest of the room to put them in a corner of their own. First there was just the touch of his tongue at the indentation of her upper lip, and then there was his mouth, warm and curious, and the taste of him, and what it did to her, the memories it pulled to the surface. She raised her hands and put them on his chest, letting her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding him tight while she kissed him back. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her up closer. She felt him from head to toe.

"I hear there's a wedding today," said a man's voice at the door. "And I see that it won't be one minute too soon."

* * *

The contrast that General Schuyler drew to his overseer would have been comic if it weren't for the obvious regard they had for each other. Philip Schuyler was a genteel, fastidious man of carefully chosen words, trim build, and elegant if somewhat outdated dress, but he consulted his overseer as if he were a king rather than a rough, loud barrel of a man wearing a twenty—year—old wig with a mind of its own.

"We could send MacDonald," General Schuyler suggested, and then listened with great attention while Anton Meerschaum explained why such a thing was impossible.

"Then I'll go myself," he said quietly. "If you and Miss Middleton will trust me with your business concerns."

Nathaniel glanced at Elizabeth, and she nodded at him. It was right for him to handle this discussion with Philip Schuyler, but she was inordinately pleased that he was sensitive enough to ask her permission to do so.

They had the patent and the deed of gift on the table in front of them. General Schuyler had looked at them carefully; Elizabeth knew that the date on the deed had not escaped his attention. But no look of surprise or censure came from him. Then, with precision and an understanding of the law that was simple and exacting, he outlined the steps that needed to be taken to secure their claims.

"Will you return to Paradise, then, if this business in Albany can be seen to without your attendance?" he asked Nathaniel.

"No," Nathaniel said shortly. "It's best if we stay out of Paradise a while, until things settle a ways. If you will look after the paperwork, and keep it safe."

"That I will," said Philip Schuyler. "And I will arrange for word to be sent to the judge. Unless, Miss Middleton, you would like to write to him yourself?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I would much appreciate your assistance, sir, if you would be so kind—”

“It is a small thing," he said.  "I am delighted to oblige."

It was clear to Elizabeth by now that Nathaniel's status here was more than that of son of a dear friend. He was treated with a respect and regard that she had not anticipated, but which she found deeply gratifying. In the hour they had spent talking about the business concerns, at least seven men had come in, hats in hand, to greet Nathaniel and Runs-from-Bears, each of them with real joy and enthusiasm. Two of them had been Mr. Schuyler's sons, young men of fifteen and twenty years, eager to talk. They were sent on their way with promises of an evening party, and the discussion returned to the matter of the property and taxes.