Page 27

"We like not to be constantly reminded of our extreme youth," Alexandra said lightly, but with a meaningful look.

Jordan's sharp bark of laughter echoed throughout the salon. "God, you have a quick wit. Amazing in one so youn—so pretty," he corrected swiftly. "I apologize once again—for teasing you about your age and for forgetting the matter of a present."

"I greatly fear that, like it or not, you were my birthday present."

"What a way to phrase it," he chuckled.

Alexandra glanced at the clock; it was less than a half hour before Jordan had said he wished to be off for their ship. "I'd better go upstairs and change my gown," she said.

"Where has my grandmother gone?" he asked as she started to leave.

"I believe she has taken to her bed, prostrate with grief over your unfortunate marriage," Alexandra said with a lame attempt at humor. More seriously, she added, "Will she be all right, do you think?"

"It would take more than our marriage to send her to her couch calling for her hartshorn," Jordan said with what sounded very much like fondness and admiration. "My grandmother could take on Napoleon himself and emerge victorious from the encounter. When she was through with him, he'd be plumping up her pillows and begging her pardon for his bad manners in making war on us. A little thing like my 'unfortunate marriage' won't send her into a decline, believe me. And now that you bear my name, she will flay anyone alive who dares to cast aspersions on you."

A half hour later, clad in the cherry traveling costume the dressmakers had designed for her, Alexandra climbed into a shiny black-lacquered coach with Jordan's ducal seal emblazoned in silver upon the door, and settled back against incredibly luxurious grey velvet squabs. The coachman put up the stairs and closed the door, and with scarcely any sensation of motion, the well-sprung traveling chaise glided down the long drive behind four prancing bays, escorted by six liveried outriders.

Alexandra glanced about her, admiring the heavy silver handles at the doors and the crystal-and-silver lamps. Luxuriating in the unexpected comfort of the spacious conveyance, she tried to believe she was really married, really leaving on her wedding trip. Across from her, Jordan stretched his legs out, crossed them at the ankles, and stared out the window, lapsing into a comfortable silence.

He had changed for the trip, and Alex quietly admired the way his tight-fitting biscuit breeches and shiny brown boots emphasized his long, muscular legs. His cream shirt was open at the neck, displaying a glimpse of tanned throat, and his coffee-colored jacket set off his powerful shoulders to wonderful advantage. She uttered a silent prayer that someday he might find her as pleasing to look at as she found him, then she decided that some form of pleasant conversation might be in order.

"Your mother's wedding gown was very beautiful," she ventured softly. "I was worried that some harm might come to it, but nothing happened."

He flicked a glance in her direction. "You needn't have worried," he said dryly. "I'm certain you are far more worthy of that symbol of chaste purity than my mother was when she wore it."

"Oh," Alexandra said, aware that she had just been complimented, though in the context the compliment was given, "thank you" seemed highly inappropriate.

When he made no attempt to converse further with her, Alexandra sensed that he was grappling with some sort of weighty problem, and she let the silence continue, content to watch the lush, rolling landscape pass the windows.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, they finally stopped for dinner at a large, rambling inn with ivy covering its mellowed brick exterior and a neat, white fence enclosing its huge yard.

One of the outriders had obviously been sent ahead, because both the innkeeper and his wife greeted them and then promptly ushered them through the common rooms, into a cozy private dining parlor where a sumptuous meal in covered trays was already laid out.

"You were hungry," her husband remarked later, as she laid her knife and fork down and sighed with relief.

"Starved," Alexandra agreed. "My stomach is not yet accustomed to the town hours you keep at Rosemeade. When you are eating your supper at ten o'clock, I am normally in bed."

"We'll be stopping for the night about eight o'clock, so you won't have to wait as long as that for your next meal," he volunteered politely.

When he seemed to want to linger over his wine, Alexandra asked, "Would you mind very much if I waited for you outside? I'd love to walk around a bit before we get into the coach again."

"Fine. I'll join you in a few minutes."

Alexandra strolled outside, enjoying the sunshine beneath the steady, watchful eye of Jordan's coachman. Two more coaches pulled into the innyard, both of them handsome and shiny, but not nearly so magnificent as her husband's wonderful traveling chaise with its silver seal and shiny silver harnesses on the horses. Hostlers ran forward to take charge of the horses, and for a few moments Alexandra simply watched, savoring each sight.

Jordan's horses were being put to when Alexandra noticed a young boy crouched on his haunches near the corner of the fence, apparently speaking to the ground. Curious, she wandered over, then smiled when she saw that he was talking to a litter of frolicking, long-haired puppies.

"How cute they are!" she exclaimed. The puppies' heads and front legs were white, their hindquarters brown.

"Would yer like t'buy one?" the boy said eagerly. "I could let yer have th' pick o' the litter fer a good price. They be pure bred."

"What kind are they?" Alexandra asked, laughing delightedly when the smallest of the balls of white and brown fluff detached itself from the others, scampered over to her, and clamped its tiny teeth onto the hem of her skirt, tugging playfully at it.

"Fine English sheepdogs," the boy provided, as Alexandra bent down to separate the puppy from her hem. "Very smart, they be."

The moment her hands touched the thick, silky fur, Alexandra was enchanted. Long ago she'd had a collie, but after her father died, food had been too precious to waste on any animal that didn't earn its keep, and she'd given her collie to Mary Ellen's brother. Scooping the puppy up, she held it at eye level while its tiny legs flailed the air and a small pink tongue eagerly licked her hand. She was still holding the puppy, discussing its merits with its enthusiastic owner when her husband came up behind her and said, "It's time to leave."

Alexandra never considered asking her new husband to let her have the puppy, but the unconscious appeal was there in the large eyes and soft smile she turned up to him. "I had a collie once, a long time ago."