Mistress

CHAPTER NINE

MARCUS LEANED AGAINST THE MANTEL IN IPHIGINIA'S library and contemplated his next move. "We will start with the sepulchral monument. The site was obviously chosen with careful consideration. There may be a connection between it and the blackmailer."

"Perhaps." Iphiginia set her teacup down onto its saucer. "Or he may have selected it merely because it was remote and atmospheric and bound to create an extremely unpleasant effect on the sensibilities of whoever brought the money." She shivered. "He was not wrong on that last point, I assure you."

Amelia gazed into the fire that Marcus had lit. "Whoever is behind this enjoys frightening people, first with threats of murder and now with ghosts. But what possible connection could the monument to this Mrs. Eaton have to do with the thing?"

"I don't know," Marcus conceded. "But it's worth making a few inquiries in that direction."

"I agree," Iphiginia said quietly. Marcus glanced at her. He was still brooding on the notion that someone had gone out of his way to terrify her tonight. His hand knotted into a fist on the mantel top.

He deliberately dampened the fires of anger that burned in his blood and tried to take a more rational, objective view of the situation and of Iphiginia.

He was relieved to see that she was showing no obvious W effects from the three hours she had spent sitting alone in the funeral grotto. He did not know any other female who would have come through the experience in such one form. For that matter, he did not know many men who would have come out of it in such good spirits.

His mistress-in-name-only had great courage, he thought. Nevertheless, when he finally got his hands on whoever had locked her in the grotto, he was going to take great pleasure in avenging her.

"How do you intend to proceed?" Amelia asked. Marcus considered the question closely. "To begin, we must try to discover who Mrs. Eaton was and, more important, who built such an elaborate monument to her."

"Our man of affairs, Mr. Manwaring, can look into it," Iphiginia said.

Marcus recalled the man he had seen leaving Iphiginia's town house the previous day. Manwaring enjoyed much too casual an entree into the household, he decided.

"I'll have my own man of affairs handle the matter," he said, and then broke off as a thought struck him. "Devil take it. That will not be possible. At least not immediately."

"What's wrong?" Iphiginia asked. "Barclay is, ah, out of Town on a business matter at the moment." Marcus drummed his fingers on the mantel. He could hardly explain that Barclay was in Devon looking into Iphiginia's past. "But he will not be gone long. Hell deal with the problem when he returns."

"Are you certain that you don't want us to ask Mr. Manwaring to handle it?" Iphiginia said. "He's really very good at obtaining detailed information, is he not, Amelia?"

"Yes," Amelia said. "Very good." "No," Marcus said grimly. "Barclay can manage." He glanced from Iphiginia to Amelia and back again. "You have employed Mr. Manwaring for some time?"

"Three years," Iphiginia said. "He's an excellent man of affairs. Why do you ask?"

Marcus shrugged. "No particular reason. It just occurred to me that one's man of affairs knows a great deal about one's personal life."

Iphiginia scowled. "I assure you, Mr. Manwaring is entirely trustworthy. Surely you do not suspect him of being involved in this blackmail business?"

"Not at the moment. I was merely thinking aloud." Marcus paused. "Is it conceivable that, having been in your employ this long, your Mr. Manwaring could have learned enough about your aunt to blackmail her?"

"Absolutely not," Amelia said with unexpected fierceness. "Mr. Manwaring is a gentleman, sir. His character is quite above reproach. He would never do such a thing."

"Amelia is correct." Iphiginia's fine brows snapped together in a withering frown. "Mr. Manwaring is a decent, entirely honorable man."

Marcus could see immediately that there was no point in explaining that some men wore a facade of honor in order to hide a lack of integrity.

"Very well, he is your man of affairs," Marcus said gently. "I shall accept your opinion of him." "I should think so," Iphiginia muttered. "In any event," Marcus continued, thinking it through carefully, "even if he were the one blackmailing Lady Guthrie, I do not see how he could possibly know my friend's closest secret."

"Of course not." Iphiginia suddenly smiled a little too sweetly. "My lord, does this newfound suspicion of Mr. Manwaring mean that you are prepared to consider someone other than myself as the villain?"

"I suppose it's possible that you staged the entire play tonight for the express purpose of causing me to believe that you are innocent, but I think it unlikely."

Iphiginia's smile vanished. "Thank you very much, sir. Does it occur to you, my lord, that I could interpret the entire chain of events in such a manner that you would appear to he guilty?"

That irritated him. "Don't be ridiculous." "What is so ridiculous about it?" she challenged. "You could very easily be the blackmailers

She was serious. Marcus was stunned. He knew full well that there had been a great deal of gossip about him over the years. Rumors concerning the duel and the death of Lynton Spalding were legion. But no one had ever voiced such speculations to his face. No one dared.

"You are either very foolish or very hold, Iphiginia. In any event, you go too far."

"Or not far enough," she retorted, undaunted. Amelia cast her an uneasy glance. "Really, Iphiginia, I do not think this will get us anywhere."

"On the contrary." Iphiginia kept her stem gaze fixed on Marcus. "I wish to make a point. Pray consider the facts. We are told that you are quite ruthless, my lord, and I know that you are extremely intelligent. You are certainly clever enough to have learned all sorts of secrets over the years."

"Enough, Iphiginia," he warned very softly. She acted as though she had not heard him. "You could have sent the blackmail notes. You could even have been the person in the cloak who locked me inside the grotto tonight."

Marcus was coldly furious. "That is a damned insult, madam."

"You have insulted me just as unbearably during the past few days."

"Your actions have been suspicious from the beginning. Parading about London as my mistress. Sneaking into gentlemen's studies to peruse the contents of their desks. Touring Lartmore's statuary hall. Dashing off to a cemetery at midnight with five thousand pounds that have since disappeared."

"Please," Amelia whispered. "This will accomplish nothing."

"Oh, yes it will," Iphiginia said. "It will prove to his lordship that his actions can he made to look every bit as suspicious as my own."

Marcus scowled. "Damn it, I am not the blackmailer."

"I never thought you were," Iphiginia said airily. "I was merely making a point."

Marcus moved very deliberately away from the mantel. He crossed the room to where Iphiginia sat on the Grecian sofa and halted directly in front of her. "Men have died making points such as yours."

"Perhaps, but I do not believe they have died by your hand, sir. You are much too intelligent to go about issuing challenges over such trivial matters."

"You think a man's honor is a trivial matter?" "No, of course not. And neither is a woman's honor. But one cannot prove one's honor on a dueling field, can one? The truth is, not established by lodging a bullet in someone wisely

Marcus leaned over her, one hand on the arm of the sofa, the other braced on the curved back. She was trapped in the corner. "Be that as it may, a well-lodged bullet has a remarkably quieting effect on gossip."

"I doubt it. It merely drives it underground. But who gives a fig about gossip? You and I have the luxury of being virtually immune to gossip, do we not, my lord?"

"There are limits to everything, Iphiginia, and you have reached the limits of my indulgence. A mistress-in-name-only can tread only so far and no farther."

"How would you know, sir? You. have already admitted that you have never had a mistress-in-name-only before."

Amelia held up a hand. "I think it would he an excellent notion to put an end to this nonsense before your quarrel grows any more ludicrous."

Marcus glanced at her. "You're quite right, Miss Farley. Thank you for injecting a note of reason into the situation."

"You're welcome." Marcus straightened and started to prowl the room. "Now, then, let us get back to more important matters. Another interesting possibility has just struck me."

Iphiginia sat forward and fluffed her skirts in the manner of a small cat grooming herself after she had been rudely disturbed. "What is that, sir?"

"I have been thinking about the statement that started our argument."

"Your observation that one's man of affairs is often in a position to gain a great deal of private information?" Iphiginia gave him a curious look. "What of it?"

"It occurs to me that such men are not the only ones who have access to extremely personal information. There are other people stationed in many of the best households who come to know things that are very private."

Amelia studied him intently. "You refer to servants? I do not believe this blackmail is the work of a servant."

"I agree," Iphiginia said quickly. "Whoever is behind this feels at home in Society. Do not forget he was aware of your personal plans for a month in the country, sir."

"And that business with the phoenix seal indicates some familiarity with classical subjects," Amelia added. "A servant would be unlikely to make such associations."

"Ale notes are written with a fine, well-trained hand," Iphiginia put in. "We all agreed in the beginning that the writing is well formed and the language of the notes indicated an educated intellect."

Marcus looked at her. "A governess or a companion would have such a background."

Iphiginia and Amelia stared at him with startled expressions.

"Good lord," Amelia whispered. "He's right, Iphiginia. Governesses and companions occupy a place somewhere between the servants' quarters and the drawing room. They are as well educated as their employers and yet they remain as unnoticed as the servants in most households."

Iphiginia leaped upon the possibilities. "And while she would not go to balls and soirees, a governess or companion would have access to the most intimate details of the lives of her employers. She would hear things and see things."

Marcus frowned. "My hypothesis would mean that we are searching for a woman who would know the most intimate secrets of at least two households."

"Someone who worked in Aunt Zoe's household at one time 'and then in your friend's household." Iphiginia looked at Marcus. "How old is your friend's secret, my lord?"

Marcus hesitated, debating how much he could divulge without betraying Hannah's confidence. "The events for which she is being blackmailed occurred seven years ago. I believe you mentioned that your aunt's secret dates back eighteen years?"

"Yes." Iphiginia moved one hand back and forth along the scrolled arm of the sofa. "It is an interesting theory, my lord, but I doubt that we shall discover that the same woman worked in both households."

"Still, it's worth looking into," Marcus said. "My hypothesis is a good deal more sound than your own. That business of rummaging. through gentlemen's desks in search of a black wax and seal never did make much sense to me." Iphiginia glared at him. "I disagree, sir. My theory is infinitely more reasonable and logical than yours. And unlike yours, it has some supporting evidence. After all, we have established that there are a handful of men who are connected to both your circle and Guthrie's. Your notion, on the other hand, is pure conjecture."

"It may he unproven," Marcus said, "but it has a great deal more to recommend it than yours does."

"That's not true. Furthermore, I would like to point out-"

Amelia held up a hand for silence. "Once again, may I request that we avoid these useless squabbles? They do not do us any good."

Marcus smiled coolly. "Miss Farley, you are the voice of common sense. Iphiginia is not thinking clearly tonight. Only to be expected, considering what she has been through."

"I resent that," Iphiginia said. "My thinking is every bit as clear as your own, Masters."

"You must admit that our areas of expertise differ somewhat," Marcus said politely. "Yours is in the field of classical antiquities, a subject far removed from what we are dealing with here. My own interests, on the other hand, have always been of a scientific and technical nature. In the pursuit of those interests I have obviously had occasion to develop the skills of reason and logic more fully than you have."

Iphiginia bounced up off the sofa. "Of all the arrogant, condescending, presumptuous things to say."

"Please," Amelia be ed. "If the two of you do not stop this idiotic quarreling, we shall never get anywhere."

"I could not be more in agreement," Marcus said smoothly. "We shall proceed in a logical fashion. As I said, I'll have Barclay make inquiries into the ownership of that sepulchral grotto in Reeding Cemetery as soon as he returns to Town. In the meantime, you will ask your aunt if she had a companion in her employ several years ago who might have suspected her secret. I shall ask my friend the same question."

"Hmm," Iphiginia muttered. Marcus ignored her fulminating gaze. "We shall see what we learn from that avenue of inquiry. In the meantime, I think it would he best to remove you from London for a few days, madam."

"Certainly not." Iphiginia was outraged. "Why would I wish to leave London? I have far too much to do here."

Marcus shook his head. "The blackmailer is obviously becoming more dangerous. His actions tonight indicate that he is not above harming you."

"He didn't harm me. He merely gave me something of a scare."

"His lordship is right." Amelia clasped her hands together in her lap. "His note says quite clearly that locking you in the grotto was a warning, Iphiginia. Who knows what he will do next?"

"Precisely," Marcus said. "I think it would he best for me to keep a close eye on Iphiginia until Barclay has had an opportunity to make a few inquiries."

"Rubbish," Iphiginia said. Amelia ignored her. She gazed intently at Marcus. "And just how do you propose to do that, my lord?"

Marcus ran through the very short list of possibilities in his head. "I suppose Iphiginia could return to her home in the country for a while."

"Absolutely not, " Iphiginia said very loudly. "Utterly impossible. I will not go home and that is final."

Marcus made a private note of her vehemence on the subject. It would he interesting to see what Barclay learned in Devon. "Then in that case, I suggest that we take Lady Pettigrew up on her invitation to spend a few days at her country house in Hampshire this week."

Iphiginia considered that. "It would give me an opportunity to search Pettigrew's library."

Marcus stifled, an oath. "I will handle that matter. You will examine Lady Pettigrew's Temple of Vesta, as you promised to do."

"Are you certain that you will know how to search a man s library properly?" Iphiginia asked dubiously.

"I think I can manage the task. I watched you search Lartmore's library, did I not? How can I fail after watching an expert such as yourself?"

Iphiginia pursed her lips. "Very well, my lord. We shall go to Hampshire, as planned."

Marcus exhaled with a sense of relief. At least Iphiginia would be safe under his careful eye while they were in Hampshire. By the time they got back to London, Barclay would have returned. Marcus intended to set him to investigating the ownership of Mrs. Eaton's monument as soon as possible.

Something told him that there was a connection between the funeral grotto and the blackmailer. He could almost feel it. He intended to explore the problem until he had the answers he wanted.

The blackmailer had become more than a nuisance. Tonight he had gone too far. He had threatened Iphiginia.

Marcus would not stop until he had caught him.

Three days later, Marcus strolled over to one of the shelves in Pettigrew's library and studied the titles with keen interest. " Cicero, Virgo, Newton. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society. I commend you on your excellent and extremely varied collection, Pettigrew. I had not realized that you were interested in so. many different subjects.»

Pettigrew, a dour man whose gloomy, withdrawn temperament was the exact opposite of his lady's, scowled even more ferociously than he usually did. "A man's got to read something besides the newspapers if he doesn't want his mind to rot."

"Well said." Marcus took down a recent volume of the Philosophical Transactions and leafed through to the table of contents. "Would you mind if I borrowed this?"

"Help yourself." Pettigrew poured claret into a glass. "Mind if I ask you how long you intend to stay with us, sir?"

Marcus pretended to ignore Pettigrew's lack of hospitality. It had become evident immediately upon arrival yesterday that the house party was entirely Lady Pettigrew's notion. Her unsociable husband had no interest in entertaining visitors.

"I believe we shall be here for only a few days, no more. Your wife has requested Mrs. Bright's opinion on your Temple of Vesta. It will no doubt require my friend some time to make all the measurements and compare them with those of the original ruin that she saw in Italy."

"Perfectly good Temple of Vesta." Pettigrew tossed the claret down his throat. "Don't see why we need Mrs. Bright's opinion." He slid a quick sidelong glance at Marcus. "No offense, sir. I realize that she's a very close friend of yours.»

"Yes. She is." Marcus examined the table of contents of the copy of the Philosophical Transactions. The volume was over a year old. He spotted an article on astronomical observations that caught his interest.

He had, of course' read this issue of the Transactions months earlier when he had received his own copy. He always perused the latest issue of the Society's papers as soon as they appeared. But nine months ago he had glanced only cursorily at the paper dealing with astronomy. At that time he had confined his inquiries into the properties of light and reflective surfaces and had not yet taken an interest in the stars.

"Known her a long time?" "Who? Mrs. Bright?" Marcus looked up. "As it happens, I have not known her nearly long enough."

"I see. Rather an unusual female." "Yes. Very. She and I have discovered that we have a great deal in common."

Pettigrew furrowed his brow in some confusion. "You're interested in antiquities and such?"

"I am these days." Marcus closed the Transactions. "By the bye, my valet neglected to pack my writing box, for some inane reason. Would it be a great imposition for me to borrow some paper? I have a few letters to write."

"What? Oh, no. No, not at all." Pettigrew waved a hand at his cluttered desktop. "Help yourself."

"I'll need to borrow your wax jack, too. I trust you don't mind?"

"Over there near the globe." "Very kind of you."

"You may as well use my desk to write your bloody letters." Pettigrew heaved a glum sigh. "God knows I won't have much of a chance to use it while this crowd is in residence. Don't know why my wife has to have so many people down here from London during the Season. I've told her that if she wants to socialize, she's free to do it at our house in Town."

"She has a right to he proud of this house. It's not every estate that can boast a Temple of Vesta."

"Be different if one could boast of a few virgins to go with it," Pettigrew said. "But these days they're as rare as unicorns and phoenixes, ain't they?"

Marcus studied the rolling lawn outside the library window. "Phoenixes?"

"You know, mythological bird that's supposed to he reborn from its own ashes."

"I lost interest in mythological creatures at about the same time I lost interest in virgins," Marcus said.

"What a lovely evening sky."

She had dragged Marcus out onto the terrace on the pretext of admiring the tranquil summer evening before they retired. In truth, she intended to quiz him on what he had learned in Pettigrew's library this afternoon. She had been eager to speak to him in private all day, but there had been no opportunity to do so.

Now that she had him to herself out here under the stars, she was no longer in such a rush to question him about his discoveries. She realized that all she really yearned to do was share a few quiet, private moments with him.

It was nearly midnight. After an evening of dinner and cards, most of the Pettigrew guests had drifted upstairs to their bedchambers.

Although it was the height of the Season in Town, here in the country there was no endless round of halls and soirees to keep one up until dawn. Spending a few days in the country was considered a good way to refortify oneself for the hectic pace of Town life.

A soft, balmy breeze stirred the leaves of the nearby trees. Ale scent of flowers floated on the air. Iphiginia took a deep breath, savoring the fragrance of the night.

"It certainly is clear." Marcus leaned against the ornate balustrade. His gaze was fixed on the heavens. "I'd give a great deal to he at my estate in Yorkshire."

"Why do you wish you were in Yorkshire?" "Because that's where my new telescope is." "Telescope? You are interested in astronomy?" "Yes.»

Iphiginia was intrigued by the revelation. No matter how much she discovered about this man, it seemed that there were always new depths waiting to he explored. "I had no notion, my lord."

His mouth curved faintly. "Did you think that you had learned everything there was to know about me when you studied for your role as my mistress?"

"No, of course not." She felt herself grow warm. "But I thought I had made a rather thorough inquiry into your past and present interests."

"Do not concern yourself." Marcus kept his attention on the night sky. "It was only a small oversight. You no doubt missed my interest in astronomy because it is a rather new one. I was led into it by my studies of the properties of light and mirrors."

Iphiginia pushed her questions about Pettigrew's wax jack and seal aside for the moment. She was far more curious to learn new things about the man she loved. "How did they lead you into the subject of astronomy?"

"Very easily." Marcus glanced briefly at her before returning his attention to the skies. "When one studies the stars, essentially one studies light. Mirrors can be used to focus light in such a manner that one can see a great distance into the skies."

"You mean the sort of. mirrors which are used in telescopes?"

"Yes. Mirrors can also he used to concentrate the light itself so that it can be studied. I have been working on just such a project." He gave her an oddly hesitant, sidelong glance. "I have devised a small machine which allows me to study light." "How does it work?" "It utilizes a prism and a small telescope-" He broke off with a rueful expression. "Forgive me. As a student of antiquities, I expect you find this topic rather a dull one."

"Oh, no, not in the least," she assured him. "As it happens, the ancients were very concerned with studies of the heavens. Indeed, the very stars and planets are named after the heroes and heroines of antiquity."

"True." "Tell me, what do you hope to learn from an investigation of starlight?"

"I'm not certain." Marcus shrugged. "But something Mr. William Herschel wrote a couple of years ago intrigued me greatly." "What was it?" Marcus reached out, took her hand, and led her toward the wide stone steps that descended into the gardens. He pointed out that in some sense when we look at the stars we are looking into the past."

"I do not understand." "The light from the stars takes thousands of years to reach us, by all modem calculations."

"Yes, of course. I see what you mean. The light we see must have been originally emitted cons ago," Iphiginia whispered. "I never thought of it in that fashion. What a fascinating notion."

"I find it so." Marcus smiled at her. "But I have learned that few people outside of a small group who are interested in such matters care to listen to a detailed conversation on the topic."

"I understand." Iphiginia savored the feel of his big hand wrapped around her own smaller fingers. She felt as though she and Marcus were linked together mentally as well as physically tonight. It was good to know that he no longer suspected her of blackmail. "I have often been accused of being something of a bore myself, sir."

"I find that difficult to believe."

"Oh, but it's true. I'm afraid I was obliged to live a very quiet life until last year."

"Due to your husband's age and infirmities, I expect."

"Uh, yes. Mr. Bright did not get out much." "And therefore, neither did you." "No."

"Tell me something, Iphiginia," Marcus said very softly. "Were you faithful to your Mr. Bright?"

Iphiginia gasped and somehow managed to stumble over a small stone buried in the grass. "What a ridiculous question, my lord."

He steadied her. "What is so strange about it? You have been in Society long enough to know that faithful wives are few and far between."

"From what I have observed, the number of unfaithful wives is exceeded only by the number of unfaithful husbands," Iphiginia retorted.

"I suppose that is true."

Having won the point and neatly changed the topic in the process, Iphiginia grew suddenly more daring. "Were you a faithful husband, my lord?"

Marcus was silent for a moment. "I have a rule against discussing my past. Most particularly, I do not discuss my marriage."

The rebuff chilled Iphiginia. "Yes, of course. How could I forget your infamous rules? Tell me, do you enjoy living by such rigid rules, sir?"

"They have served me well." "Life is short," Iphiginia whispered. "I find that too many rules can make one's existence seem very dull and confined."

"I find that they protect one's privacy." "But one misses out on so much of life's excitement when one lives by the overly strict rules of Society," Iphiginia protested.

"I do not live by Society's rules, Iphiginia. I live by my own."

They wandered into a more heavily wooded portion of the extensive Pettigrew gardens. The lights of the big house were far behind them now. When Iphiginia glanced over her shoulder, she realized she could not even see the stately home any longer. A stand of trees stood in the way.

The night was fit only by starlight and the glow of the nearly full moon.

"It is as if we were alone in the world," Iphiginia said. "A very pleasant sensation." Marcus glanced at a large structure looming in a nearby grove. "What have we here?"

Iphiginia saw the tall, elegant columns of the Temple of Vesta. "That is the ruin. I finished my measurements of it this afternoon while you were in Pettigrew's library. By the bye, did you discover anything of interest there?"

"No. Pettigrew uses red wax. There was no sign of any black wax in his jack and his seal bears the emblem of a hart."

"How very disappointing. Did you examine his desk with great care?"

"Yes, I did. Trust me, Pettigrew is not the blackmailer." Marcus changed course to stroll over to the circular structure. "Did you find this Temple of Vesta to be a good copy of the original in Tivoli?"

Iphiginia heaved a small sigh of regret over the news that Pettigrew had been removed from the list of suspects. She surveyed the graceful, airy antiquity. Moonlight cascaded down through the open roof, lending an enchanting, mystical quality to the ruin that had not been present earlier in the day.

"Not had, actually, she said judiciously. "It conveys the lightness of feeling that one encounters in the original. You will note the fine proportions of the columns. The circle in which they are constructed is quite precise in measurement." "Indeed." Iphiginia realized that Marcus was looking at her, not at the temple. His eyes gleamed in the shadows. Something in his low, deep voice turned her insides to warm pudding.

She took a breath and tried to sound suitably casual and erudite. "One can almost imagine the Vestal Virgins tending the sacred flame within such a classical setting."

"Your imagination is considerably more vivid than mine." Marcus led her between two of the tall stone columns. He drew her to a halt in the center of the round floor and stood gazing about with amused interest. "I cannot seem to conjure up any virgins here, but I find the setting inspiring nonetheless."

Iphiginia felt her mouth go dry. "Do you?" "Yes." He framed her face with his strong hands. "The name Lady Starlight suits you, Iphiginia. You were horn to walk in starlight,"

She shivered. I was born to love you, she thought. A haunting sadness swept through her. She would very likely never be able to say those words aloud to him because he would not want to hear them.

"Have you enjoyed playing my mistress, Iphiginia?" "Oh, yes. Enormously. As your paramour, I am considered absolutely riveting by ah' and sundry. In truth, I shall he a bit sorry when the whole thing is over."

"Will you?" "Well, not entirely," she confessed. "The thing is, it would he a great nuisance to be the focus of so many eyes all of the time. But I must admit that it has been something of a grand adventure. Almost as exciting as my recent journey to Italy."

Marcus's brows rose. "Almost as exciting? I am devastated to hear that being my mistress has not been quite as entrancing as your tour of antiquities."

Iphiginia was horrified at the realization that she might have insulted him. "I did not mean to offend you, my lord. In truth, I have found playing the part of your mistress vastly interesting."

"But not quite as interesting as, say, touring the ruins of Pompeii?"

"Well, Pompeii is Pompeii, after all, my lord," she chided gently. "Few things on the face of the earth can compare with that."

"No, I suppose not. But allow me to try to add some additional excitement to your current adventure."

His mouth closed over hers. Iphiginia did not know whether it was the moonlight or the heat from Marcus's body that set her senses on fire.