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“Hereward has a standing invitation, but I think he has gone to a friend’s for a spot of hunting,” said the duke.

“Well, it’s quite like old times having everyone here, isn’t it?” said Sarah. “And some new, very welcome faces, too,” she said kindly with a smile at Emily.

“So, you’ve come to investigate the cross, eh?” said the duke to Deo. “Stevens gave me your note, of course. I had no idea when I wrote to Aberdeen about it that he was going to send you.”

“What can you tell me about it?”

“Emrys found it,” he said.

Emrys leaned forward to take another piece of cake. “Actually, the Watson boys found it, last summer. It’s about fifty yards from the ruins. We did a bit of digging, and it seems likely there is something buried underneath it. So, we left it to the expert. Which is you.”

Deo took Emily’s hand and said, “We are. In fact, Em is more of an expert than I am in this one. Celtic burials and artifacts are her specialty.”

Emily blushed with pleasure at his praise. “It’s so very exciting. Thank you for the opportunity.”

*

At the end of tea, the duchess said to Emily, “You’ll want to wash up and rest before dinner, which is at seven. I’ve put you and Deo in the yellow suite. Deo will show you where it is.”

With a slightly sinking heart, Deo left his friends to escort Emily upstairs to their room. He had specifically asked Stevens to secure them a double suite. Either he hadn’t asked, the message had gotten lost in translation, or the duchess had chosen to ignore the request. The yellow suite had only one bedchamber, dressing room, and sitting room. They were likely to be here for weeks, and the prospect of sharing a bed with Emily for all that time . . .

He opened the door of the sitting room, off of which the bedroom ran. It was a light and airy chamber done out in yellow brocade furnishings and gold-and-white striped wallpaper. The sitting room had a generous-sized desk, and perhaps that was the reason the duchess had assigned the suite to them. This room would become their headquarters while they worked on the burial. Stevens had laid out their books and papers on the desk and made a neat pile of Deo’s archaeological equipment in the corner.

He led her through into the bedroom which boasted the same style furnishings as the sitting room and poked his head into the dressing room to check that their clothing had been put away.

“Dinner,” said Emily in a panicked tone. “What shall I wear?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I had a word with Sarah, she said they wouldn’t be dressing for dinner tonight as it’s just family. She’ll sort you out with something tomorrow.”

“That is very kind of her.”

“I told you she was kind.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she blushed, “for what you said downstairs, about my expertise.”

He smiled. “It’s true. You’ll be taking the lead on this one.”

“B-but I can’t! You know far more about archaeology than I do.”

“True, I’ll be applying the methodology, but you will provide the contextual and interpretive knowledge.”

“Oh, Deo.” She wrapped her arms round his middle and hugged him. It was so unexpected, he just froze. Looking down at her head pressed against his chest, he slowly put his arms up to hug her back and irresistibly, he lowered his head and kissed her hair. Her rose scent was intoxicating, and the feel of her slender form pressed against him was having a disastrous effect on his equilibrium. It was Wednesday, not Thursday, and way past three in the afternoon.

He wanted to push her away and flee and at the same time pull her closer and—kiss her. No, no, no! That way lay disaster.

Unfortunately, his body wasn’t listening to his brain. She raised her head, and those rosebud lips were so close. She stared up at him with such a softened expression in her bright hazel-green eyes, her lips slightly parted, plump and inviting. And he couldn’t resist.

He lowered his head and set his lips to hers, gently, softly, tentatively, as if he were afraid he would startle her. He hadn’t much of a clue about kissing. He’d never done it, not properly. When he was a raw young lad, there had been a few sloppy attempts along with some heated groping in the barn with the dairy maid that had ended abruptly when he came all over himself. Her disgust and the humiliation had made him retreat, and he’d not tried that again.

Now here he was, a thirty-two-year-old man with a beautiful woman in his arms and not a clue what to do with her. Well, not much of a clue anyway. Instinct made him move his lips a little and the effect was searing. A kind of heady, tingling pleasure exploded outwards from the caress of her soft lips, and he pressed a little closer, chasing the delicious feeling, moving his mouth around to try different angles and get more of the delectable sensations.

He was drowning in sensation. Nothing had ever felt this good in his life. Her lips were pure heaven, and his cock was rigid in his breeches. It was that realization that made him pull back. His boyhood terror of disgracing himself cut through the bliss and made him let her go with a groan of longing.

He stepped back, turning away to hide the effect she had on him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. We may not even be legally married at this point. I—” He swallowed, his throat clogged. “I’m going to take Kes for a walk.” He moved to the door, calling Kes. But Kester was looking at Emily as if reluctant to leave her.

“Kes!” he said peremptorily, snapping his fingers for emphasis. Kes came, his ears and tail down. Deo held the door for him and left the room rapidly.

*

Emily, left alone in the bedchamber, put her fingers to her lips and closed her eyes. The sensation of his mouth on hers had sent a thousand delicious tingles through her body and a warm, nagging heat between her legs. She sank down on the big bed to contemplate what it meant. She had felt the hard heat of his body pressed to hers through their clothing. She knew just enough to hazard a guess at what that signified. And a smile curved her lips. The agonized groan he’d uttered as he pulled away from her told her that he hadn’t wanted to let her go but felt compelled to—by his scruples, she supposed.

She sighed. Perhaps she could persuade him to kiss her again. After all, what could a few kisses hurt? And they felt so good . . .

*

Deo, tromping over the lawns while Kester romped round him, tried to sort his brain out. What is wrong with me? I barely touched her, and I’m stiff as a poker. And it’s not even Thursday! Mind you, he wasn’t in the habit of kissing pretty young women, so how was he to know what was normal and what wasn’t? If I did it more often, his logical brain pointed out, I might find out. He groaned. I’ve opened that damned Pandora’s box. Just a crack, and it’s already ruining everything.

He didn’t even know if they were truly married. He had to stop hurtling down this slippery slope immediately. At least until he knew what their legal status was. Then if he needed to marry her again, he would, and that would solve that problem. And by then perhaps he would have figured out how to approach the other problem. How to kiss my wife without making a mess of myself. Because he had to admit, he wanted to. Very much. So much, it scared the living daylights out of him.

The fact was he hadn’t a clue how to make love to a woman. He knew the mechanics of intercourse, but that was the problem. It had all been mechanical with Damaris. That was how he liked it. Because it put him in control of the situation. He could very clearly see, just on the basis of that kiss, he could very rapidly lose control of the situation with Emily if he wasn’t very, very careful.

What am I going to do?