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“She will make me an even more useful wife,” Luke interposed silkily across the table.

Ramón grunted. “Careful, Englishman. I can still make her a widow.”

Perlita spoke for the first time. “Ramón.”

He glanced at her, frowning. She met his gaze steadily and fingered the pearls at her neck, and after a moment he looked away, his color slightly heightened.

In his eyes Bella saw a fleeting glance of… was it shame? Surely not. She recalled what Perlita had said about the other side of her lover.

Didn’t stop him being a thief.

In a different tone, Ramón said to Bella, “You are not the simpleton I thought you were, cousin, so what will you do now you know your husband has made no provision for you in his will?”

“Keep him very healthy,” she said without hesitation.

Ramón gave a snort of laughter. “Almost I could envy you, Englishman.” And he glanced at Perlita and his gaze warmed. “Almost.”

For the rest of the evening he engaged Luke in conversation, firing questions at him about crops and livestock and estate management in England. Luke answered with assurance and intelligence, Bella noted. He would not need her skills or knowledge.

Bella and Perlita, on opposite sides of the table, couldn’t speak of anything they did not want Ramón to hear, so except when Luke addressed them in conversation, they spent most of the night in silence.

“S o they are your mother’s pearls?” Luke exclaimed after supper when they were alone in their bedchamber again. “I thought at first they were, but when you didn’t react…”

“Yes, they’re unmistakable. If I wanted to prove it, I could. The biggest pearl has a tiny mark on it where I bit it when I was a child.”

“Then, dammit, I’m going to get them back for you.” Luke strode toward the door.

“No!” Bella flew across the room to stop him. “Leave it, Luke.”

He frowned. “But they’re all you have of your mother.”

She shook her head. “No, my mother is here.” She touched her heart, then sighed. “Besides, I left the pearls behind eight years ago, knowing Papa was mortally wounded and Ramón was to be the new owner of the estate. I didn’t think. It’s my own fault I lost them.”

“You were thirteen,” Luke growled. “With too damn much to think about as it was. And I don’t like it that that little bitch sat there smugly wearing them to taunt you.” He clenched his fists. “I’ve a good mind to—”

“No, no, please.” She grabbed his arm. “I couldn’t bear it if you and Ramón fought. Besides, Perlita wasn’t being smug or taunting me.”

He grunted. “Why else would she have worn them? If she hadn’t, we’d have been none the wiser.”

“It wasn’t her choice to wear them; it was Ramón’s. She knew nothing about them until tonight, I’m certain. She must have asked him about them after I asked her, and then he made her wear them. She wasn’t at all happy about it, I could see.” She removed the silk shawl and folded it carefully.

“Swine,” Luke muttered. “And she’s just as bad, going along with him.”

“Don’t blame her. She loves him.”

Luke snorted.

Bella said, “She’s just a nineteen-year-old girl who’s never had very much, and she’s hanging desperately on to what she has. Knowing her situation is desperately insecure.”

“So you’re going to just give up the pearls without a fight?”

That was exactly it, Bella thought. Without a fight. Love was making a coward out of her. She wouldn’t risk Luke’s life for anything.

She shrugged as if she didn’t care. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve lived without them for eight years…” The pearls weren’t worth a man’s life. Any man’s. Even Ramón’s.

“It’s not like you to give up so easily.”

The pearls were her past. Luke was her future. And besides, she had better things than pearls to fight for.

She was not going to bed with a shirt .

She took off her shoes and began to unroll her stockings.

His eyes, dark and unfathomable, rested on her. “I’m going for a stroll before I turn in. Would you like a maid to assist you?”

“No, thank you.” She’d dressed and undressed herself for the last eight years, and if her husband was going to be pigheaded and stubborn and refuse to be there to assist her now, she would manage alone.

“It occurred to me today that I’ve been remiss in acquiring a maidservant for you. I’d be happy to engage a girl from Valle Verde for you to take to England.” His voice lost a little of the stiffness. “She would be someone from home you could talk to in England.”

It was a kind thought. Bella considered it briefly. “No, thank you. Such a girl would be lonely in a land where she had no family and didn’t speak the language.”

“Will you not be lonely?” he asked, as if it had only just occurred to him she was leaving everything she knew to go with him.

“I’ve always been lonely. I shall manage.” She gave him a direct look. “Are you coming to bed?”

He avoided her gaze. “Not yet. I’m in need of a stroll.”

A stroll was supposed to be a short walk. He’d been gone for ages. The candle she’d lit for him had sputtered out.

Bella sat in bed, waiting, her bedclothes huddled to her ears. She had almost nodded off when she heard the door creak open. At last.

He closed the door quietly behind him. The room was in shadows, lit only by the glow of the dying fire. He removed his coat and sat to pull off his boots. She heard first one hit the floor, then the other. He’d be starting on the buttons of his waistcoat now.

“You can light a candle if you like,” she said softly. “I’m not asleep.”

He paused. “No need. The fire throws enough light to manage.” He removed his waistcoat and hung it on the back of a chair. He was a tidy man.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now.” Next he unfastened his breeches, shoved them down, and stepped out of them. He shook them out and laid them across the back of the chair. There was no self-consciousness in him; not about his naked lower half, at least.

“I waited up for you.” Now for the shirt. Would he remove it or not? Bella held her breath.

He pulled it over his head.Bella said a rapid prayer.

Then he shook out his nightshirt, put it on, and climbed into bed beside her.

Bella had to press her lips together hard to prevent her disappointment spilling out. She was determined not to nag him about it. Trust could not be forced.

He faced her in bed, his lips parted as if to say something, then he frowned, distracted. “That’s my shirt. Why are you wearing my shirt in bed?”

“Work it out.”

He reached for the shirt. She moved and his palm brushed against her breasts. She shivered and her nipples hardened. He noticed. His eyes darkened. “Take it off,” he said softly.

She moved back a little. “Not unless you take your shirt off first.”

He stiffened.

She folded her arms. “As long as you wear a shirt in bed, so do I.”

“If you’re going to start that again…” He turned away.

“But—”

“I will not discuss it, Isabella,” he said in a hard voice. “If you do not wish to share a bed with me, then that’s your prerogative. I shall sleep elsewhere.” He climbed out of bed, gathered up his clothes, and strode stiffly from the room.

B ella slept badly that night. She kept waking up, thinking Luke was back, but he wasn’t.

Such a short time a wife, yet already she was so used to sleeping with a big, warm man at her back, she couldn’t sleep well without him. The bed felt too large, too empty, too cold.

He appeared at the breakfast table only moments after her. She was about to ask him where he’d slept when Ramón and Perlita arrived.

“Was this yours?” Perlita asked, placing a small cloth doll on the table beside Bella.

Bella picked it up. It was the doll her old nursemaid, Marta, had made her after Papa had given Perlita the doll Bella had seen. Bella must have told Marta something about a golden-haired doll, and Marta made her one.

Bella had flung it away in a rage. She wanted a golden-haired doll from Barcelona, not a stupid homemade thing. But afterward she’d felt bad and had retrieved the homely little doll and hugged Marta.

She hadn’t seen it for years, but it didn’t look quite the same. It was heavier, and the hair was different—golden silk, not thick yellow wool. The doll’s clothes were new as well.

Bella glanced from the doll to her sister. “I don’t understand.”

“I hope you don’t mind. She was looking very shabby and worn,” Perlita said. “So I fixed her and made her some new clothes.”

Bella stared. “You made these clothes?” She examined them. The doll was dressed in traditional Aragon dress, each item finely embroidered and perfect down to the last detail.

Perlita smiled. “ S í , I like dolls and I like to sew. I make all my own clothes.”

“You make them?” Bella exclaimed. Perlita made all those gorgeous dresses?

Perlita laughed. “You think Ramón would waste money on fancy dresses when Valle Verde is in need?”

To Bella’s amazement, Ramón stopped shoveling food down and kissed Perlita’s hand with an almost courtly air. “It’s not a waste to adorn my beautiful Perla.”

It was almost charming. But then he resumed stuffing food in his mouth and the charm evaporated.

The rest of breakfast passed more or less in silence. Bella had no intention of talking to her husband about the previous night with an audience present, and since they were never very talkative in the morning, nobody noticed the slight constraint between them.

After breakfast was over, it was time to leave Valle Verde. Their bags were stowed in the carriage, and everyone gathered at the front of the house to bid them farewell.

Bella said good-bye to all the servants first. It was harder than she’d thought. Even though she’d been gone for eight years, their farewells were very affectionate. “Come back soon, senora , and do not forget us.” She was no longer Little Master.

There was only one master now at Valle Verde.

And even he managed a passably civilized good-bye, kissing her hand—he must have been taking lessons—and shaking Luke’s hand in a hearty manner. No one would believe, seeing him now, that only the day before he’d offered to murder her husband.