"Not that it matters, but you did not shoot anyone tonight, Emily."
"Not for lack of trying."
His mouth curved faintly. "No, not from lack of trying. You are a tigress when you set out to protect your own, aren't you, my dear?"
Emily stared at him in confusion. "I could not let him humiliate you, Simon."
"No, of course not. You love me. You adore me. You think I am noble and generous and brave, a paragon among husbands." Simon took a sip of brandy. "You would do anything for me."
"Simon?" Emily's voice was uncertain.
"You must forgive me for being somewhat dazed at the moment. Actually, I have been in this state for the past several hours. No one in my entire life has ever tried to protect me, elf."
Emily continued to stare at him, unable to speak.
"I have taken care of myself for as long as I can remember," Simon continued. "And when I met you, I realized I wanted to take care of you, too. But the notion of someone being willing to risk her life for me, the concept of someone willing to shoot a man to protect me, has temporarily scattered my wits."
"Simon, are you trying to tell me you are not repulsed by my actions, after all?"
"I am trying to tell you that I probably do not deserve you, elf, but I will kill anyone who tries to take you away from me." His golden eyes flashed in the candlelight. "In that way, I believe we must be two of a kind."
"Oh, Simon."
"A long time ago I wrote three letters asking for help."
"You wrote them to Northcote, Canonbury, and Peppington. Yes, I know," Emily said gently.
"When that help was refused I vowed I would never again ask anything of anyone in this world or the next. But now I find I must break that oath. Please do not ever stop loving me, elf. Losing your love would destroy me."
"Oh, Simon." Emily's fingers twisted in the folds of her wrapper as the happiness threatened to explode inside her.
"I love you, Emily," Simon said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I probably have all along. God knows nothing else could account for much of my behavior recently. But when I saw you about to shoot Crofton in order to protect me, I knew it for certain. I also knew I had to tell you."
"Simon." Emily could not stand it anymore. She threw herself across the bed and into her husband's arms.
He caught her close. The empty brandy glass fell to the carpet as Simon crushed his wife against him and buried his lips in her hair. He held her so tightly Emily could not breathe, but she did not mind in the least.
"Tell me you will give me what I ask," he whispered.
"Tell me you will love me forever, elf." Simon tipped her chin up so that he could look down into her eyes.
"Forever, Simon."
"Good. Now, then, there is just one more point I would like to make tonight."
"Yes?" she looked up at him expectantly.
"You will give me your word that you will never again attempt anything so dangerous as that meeting with Crofton," Simon said roughly.
"But, Simon, I had no choice. The scandal—"
He put his fingertips over her mouth. "The scandal does not exist, Emily. How many times must I tell you?"
"But Crofton knew about it. He would have told everyone."
"No, my sweet, he would not have dared to tell anyone. He would have known the price of such gossip would have been his own life. And there would have been no reason to take the risk. He would have realized I could have crushed the gossip as easily as I would have crushed him."
"Simon, are you really that powerful?"
"Yes, Emily, I am. Crofton's only hope of using the information was to threaten you with it. And that is exactly what he did."
"Oh. And I fell for his trick."
"Because you love me. But in future you will also trust me enough to come directly to me if you are ever again faced with such a problem. Are we agreed?"
"Yes, Simon." She smiled tremulously.
He carefully removed her spectacles and then he brought his mouth down on hers with a soul-wrenching hunger that sent shivers through Emily.
She moaned into his mouth and joyously gave herself up to the embrace. With utter abandon and excessive passion, she clung to her husband.
"Oh, God, elf, I need you so much," Simon muttered thickly against her throat. "Love me. Love me."
"I could do nothing else except love you, Simon."
Gently, he pushed Emily onto her back. As he undressed her, Simon's hands were everywhere, moving with a tender, possessive urgency across her breasts and alone the inside of her thighs. The raging need in him sparked her own blazing desires. Emily shivered again in the grasp of the dragon.
When he settled between her legs and guided himself into her with one long, powerful thrust, Emily cried out and clawed at his back. Simon gripped her hips and held her to him as he drove himself into her.
And then they were lost in the wondrous world they had created for themselves.
A long time later, Emily stirred sleepily in Simon's arms. "Well, my lord?"
Simon yawned hugely. He looked like a lazy, supremely satiated dragon. "Well, what?"
"Would you agree at last that there is only one way to describe the culmination of our lovemaking?"
"You refer, I imagine, to that immortal line from your epic poem. We are, indeed, cast adrift upon love's transcendent, golden shore."
"Actually," Emily said thoughtfully as she moved her toes up and down the length of Simon's leg, "I think our lovemaking is even better than that. I do not believe the line quite captures the full magnitude of the event."
"You are quite correct. It does not."
"I shall have to work on some new lines for my poem."
"Perhaps you ought to broaden the range of your sensual experience a bit further, madam poet." Simon's fingers trailed warmly over her thigh.
Emily turned toward him. She was about to kiss him when a thought struck her. "Simon?"
"Hmm?" He was busy nuzzling her throat.
"How did you happen to know I was conducting that dreadful scene with Crofton in the alley tonight?"
Simon's bare shoulders moved in a negligent shrug. He pinned her leg with one powerful thigh. "I merely had a hunch something was wrong. I searched for you in the crowd and could not find you, so I went looking."
"Hah. I knew it."
"Knew what?" Simon drew the tip of his tongue across one nipple.
"We do communicate on the metaphysical level, Simon," Emily said excitedly. "The events this evening prove it. How could you have known I was involved in something terrible tonight unless you had received some mystical message on the transcendental plane?"
Simon raised his head to gaze down at her. At first he looked rather nonplussed. And then a slow, wickedly sensual grin curved his hard mouth. "You are quite right, my love. But in future, I would rather you did not rely on metaphysical communication. The next time you are plotting an adventure of any kind, I want your word you will discuss it with me verbally as well as in the metaphysical realm. Agreed?"
"Whatever you wish, Simon. You know, I am having second thoughts about my epic poem."
"Is that right?"
"Yes. I am thinking of changing the title from The Mysterious Lady to The Mysterious Earl."
Simon groaned.
"Just think, Simon. It opens up all sorts of new possibilities for exciting adventures and thrilling scenes."
"Come here and thrill me, Emily," Simon ordered, pulling her closer.
"Certainly, my lord."
Simon sat behind his black lacquered desk and eyed the library full of Faringdons. Broderick Faringdon was occupying the chair nearest the brandy decanter. Devlin and Charles were ranged expectantly on either side of the black mantel, rather like a handsome pair of gilt candlesticks.
Emily, dressed in a dragon-trimmed gown, sat demurely in a red velvet chair near the desk. Simon was not unaware of the significance of her choice of position in the room. She was on his side.