“Jenny’s admonition had the desired effect. Ned drew a deep breath and thrust his arm gingerly into the bag, his mouth puckered in distaste. The expression on his face flickered from queasy horror to confusion. From there, itflew headlong into outright bafflement. Shaking his head, he pulled his fist from the bag and turned his hand palm up.For a long moment, the two men stared at the offending lump. It was brightly colored. It was round. It was—“An orange?” Lord Blakely rubbed his forehead. “Not quite what I expected.” He scribbled another notation.“We live in enlightened times,” Jenny murmured.”

“Jenny: But surely Lord Blakely could not abandon his estates for so long.Gareth: No. Lord Blakely could not. Not unless he had someone he could trust to run his estates in his absence. And Lord Blakely...Well, Lord Blakely did not trust anyone.Jenny: Lord Blakely is talking about himself in the third person, past tense. Its disturbing.”

“The marquess held the weapon out, as formally as if he were passing a sword.Soberly, Ned accepted it. He placed the sacrificial citrus on the table in front of him, and then with one carefulincision, eviscerated it. He speared deep into its heart, hishands steady, and then cut it to pieces. Jenny allotted herself one short moment of wistful sorrow for her afterdinner treat gone awry as the juice ran everywhere.“Enough.” She reached out and covered his hand midstab.“It’s dead now,” she explained gravely.He pulled his hand away and nodded. Lord Blakely took back his knife and cleaned it with a handkerchief.Jenny studied the corpse. It was orange. It was pulpy. Itwas going to be a mess to clean up. Most importantly, it gave her an excuse to sit and think of something mystical to say—the only reason for this exercise, really. Lord Blakelydemanded particulars. But in Jenny’s profession, specifics were the enemy.”

“What are you planning to dowith all my points?”Points? It took Jenny a moment to remember what he was talking about. Points, when he smiled. She turnedaround slowly and put her hands on her hips.“Your points? Those are my points. I earned them. You can’t have them.”Gareth scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets.“Bollocks. I had to smile very hard for every single one of them. And if you don’t take this elephant and marry me, Iswear to God you’ll never get another point again.”Jenny’s world froze. Outside, she could hear the clear voice of a blackbird singing. It was overwhelmed by theringing in her ears. She turned to Gareth slowly.“What did you say?”“I said, you’ll never earn another point again. I haven’t smiled since you left me, and I miss it.” He kicked at the ground, his eyes tracing the dust. “I miss you.”“No, before that.”“Take this elephant—”“After.”He looked up. That feral light shone in his eyes again, but this time the wild look was a plea. A lion yearning to befreed from its cage. “Take me.” His voice was thick and husky. “Please. Jenny. I’m begging you.” She didn’t know what to say in answer. He’d shocked the words right out of her skin. She could only stare, as some frozen expanse inside her tingled to life. It hurt to want.”

“After Blakely delivered that infamous and muchrepeated set down, he transferred his gaze to the newMarchioness of Blakely.She shook her head, once. Firmly. “Gareth,” she said dryly. “It is your sister’s wedding day. Behave.”Silence. He’d lifted his chin, in typical Blakely arrogance.The crowd waited for the blast.And then Lord Blakely shrugged and grinned helplessly.Grinned. Helpless. A Blakely.“Oh,” said his sister, from where she stood near him. “Isthat how it’s done? I’ll have to practice that.”Like that, everything society knew about nine generations of Blakelys went up in smoke.Since that day, there had been no question. Lady Blakely had been granted otherworldly powers at birth.Every smile she coaxed from him, every laugh that she surprised from his lips, stood as testament to her arcane abilities.And those that questioned her worth still had only to see the look in his eyes when he watched her to find all theproof they required.”

“What do you see?” asked Ned, his voice hushed.“I see…I see…an elephant.”“Elephant,” Lord Blakely repeated, as he transcribed herwords. “I hope that isn’t the extent of your prediction.Unless, Ned, you plan to marry into the genus Loxodonta.”Ned blinked. “Loxo-wha?”“Comprised, among others, of pachyderms.”

“Be quiet, Ash. I am trying to remember you.”In the lamplight, shadows collected on his face as his eyebrows drew down. He must have taken her meaning, because he shook his head. “Well. I am trying to have you.” His voice was fiercely possessive. “Not for one night, nor even two. I want you every evening—mine outright, not a few hours stolen here or there. I want you during the day, on my arm. I want to know that when we’re apart you’re missing me; I want to know when we’re together, I’m the one who puts the smile on your face.” He punctuated each phrase with a kiss—against her chin, the line of her jaw, the hollow of her neck.”