Phoebe's eyes were full of stunned shock. "Are you certain of this?"

"Absolutely certain. Baxter used you to get money out of your family. That was his only interest in you. He deserved everything he got out there in the South Seas."

"But for an entire year I have felt terrible because I believed he went out there to make his fortune so that he could continue to woo me. He called himself my Lancelot. He claimed he wished to serve me forever. I would always be his Lady in the Tower."

"You need no longer feel any guilt on account of Baxter," Gabriel said. "Forget him."

"Finding his killer has been my quest for months."

"Forget the damn quest."

"I feel as though I have been living in an illusion," Phoebe whispered. "If what you say is true, I have wasted so much time. So much energy. So much emotion."

"Forget him, Phoebe."

Phoebe's ringers trembled as she folded her napkin and placed it carefully on the table. "Such a mistake makes one question one's judgment."

Gabriel shrugged. "We all make mistakes when it comes to matters of that sort. Hell, even I made a similar mistake eight years ago when I tried to run off with your sister."

"Yes, you did, didn't you? And now I have risked a great deal by marrying you."

He did not care for the strange expression in her eyes. "Phoebe, I only told you the truth so that you could put your silly quest behind you. I do not fancy being married to a woman who is bent on tracking down a killer. Very inconvenient."

"I see." She looked at him. "You knew the truth about Neil almost from the start?"

He hesitated. "Your father told me about him shortly after I arrived in London."

"Yet you led me to believe you were helping me on my quest. How long would you have let me go on believing that your intentions were honorable, sir?"

"My intentions were honorable. Eventually." Too late Gabriel saw the trap he had set for himself. "Phoebe, I can explain everything."

Phoebe stood up. "I do not believe there is anything to explain, sir. You lied to me. You told me you were assisting me on my quest to find Neil's killer. But you never had any intention of helping me find the pirate who murdered him, did you?"

Gabriel was trapped. He could hardly explain about his short-lived notions of vengeance. That news would only upset her further. "I did not lie to you."

"Yes, you did. Tell me, why did you marry me?" she demanded, her eyes fierce.

"Because I think we shall suit each other very well." Gabriel tried to make his tone reasonable and soothing. "Once you have settled down and stopped giving in to your reckless impulses, that is."

"Reckless impulses? You mean like the reckless impulse that led me to marry you today?" Phoebe started around the edge of the table. "I assure you, my lord, I have certainly learned my lesson. I will not succumb to any further reckless impulses."

Gabriel realized she was going to walk right out of the dining room. "Phoebe, come back here. I am talking to you."

"You may finish the conversation by yourself. I doubt there is anything meaningful that I can contribute. You seem to have all the answers."

"Damnation, Phoebe, I said come back here."

"I do not wish to do so, my lord."

"I am your husband," Gabriel reminded her grimly. "And this is our wedding night. If you are finished with dinner, you may go upstairs. I shall join you shortly."

She had her hand on the doorknob. Her eyes glittered with anger as she glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Forgive me, my lord, I am not in the mood to have any more illusions shattered tonight."

Gabriel set his teeth as she slammed the door. Silence descended.

She would not dare lock her door against him tonight, he thought. She was his wife.

But even as he tried to reassure himself on that score, Gabriel knew Phoebe was quite capable of refusing to grant him his rights as a husband.

Hell, she was capable of almost anything.

An hour later he discovered that she had not locked her bedroom door. She was not even in her bedroom.

Gabriel tore the castle apart, looking for her. He finally realized she had retreated to the tower room he used as a study. She had locked herself inside.

Gabriel pounded on the door. "Phoebe, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I am going to spend the night in here, Gabriel," she called back. "I want to think. I must sort this all out for myself."

Gabriel remembered the copy of The Lady in the Tower that was sitting in one of the bookcases. If she found it, she would probably never speak to him again.

She would never understand why it was in his possession. She would believe the worst. And in this case the worst was the simple truth. Lie had been responsible for Neil Baxter's death.

Gabriel went cold at the thought of the impending disaster. That was when he discovered that he, too, was capable of almost anything.

Phoebe lit the fire that had been laid on the hearth. Then she got to her feet and surveyed the small stone room in the light of the flames. She knew at once that this had to be Gabriel's study.

She felt like a trespasser, but at the same time she was irresistibly intrigued by the knowledge that this room was so intimately connected to Gabriel. She could feel the heart and soul of him in here.

She had stumbled onto the tower room by accident when she had set out searching for a refuge. She had brought a pillow and a quilt with her because she fully intended to spend the night here. There had been no doubt in her mind but that Gabriel would try to exercise his marital rights tonight. He was, after all, a very sensual man. He was also not a man to ignore a clear challenge, and she had virtually issued him one.

It was always a mistake to issue a challenge to a knight-errant.

Perhaps if she had tried explaining herself to him, she might have avoided the confrontation, Phoebe thought. But it was too late now. The damage had been done. Besides, she had not been in a mood to explain anything. She had been too hurt and too angry—

When she thought of the months she had wasted feeling guilty because of Neil Baxter, she wanted to scream. Had he really lied to her? It was difficult to believe. Surely there was some explanation for what had happened.

When she thought of how Gabriel had tricked her into believing he was going to help her on her quest, she wanted to cry. Gabriel definitely had lied to her. That was what hurt the most.

Of course, if she were perfectly honest with herself, she had to admit she had kept him in the dark about one or two matters right from the start. Not that she had ever intended to mislead him, she thought. It had just sort of happened due to an unfortunate set of circumstances over which she'd had little control.

As far as she could determine, Gabriel had no such excuse. But perhaps he did not see it in that light.

It was all too much to deal with on top of everything else that had happened today. She needed time to reflect. Time to decide what to do next. Somehow she had to find a way to make her marriage work.

She sat down behind Gabriel's desk. This was where he wrote, she realized. She felt oddly close to him as she sat there in the firelit room. She reached out to pick up one of his pens. He used these to create legends. The knowledge awed her.

A scraping sound outside the window jolted her out of her reverie. Startled, Phoebe dropped the pen and got to her feet. Her hand went to her throat when she heard the noise again.

It was not a tree branch rasping against the stone, she realized. This room was three stories off the ground and there were no trees outside the window.

The sliding, seraping sound came again. Phoebe swallowed uneasily. She did not believe in ghosts, she reminded herself. But this was a very old castle and it had certainly seen its share of violence and bloodshed.