She lay looking at him for a long while, vaguely aware of a host of new impressions. There was some soreness between her legs and the musky scent of his maleness was on her. She felt sticky and warm and a little restless.

So this was what it was like being married. She could deal with it, Phoebe decided. She rather liked the warm intimacy of it all, even if the actual act of lovemaking was nothing to get excited about. The preliminaries were certainly quite pleasant. But the real joy in the thing was the glorious knowledge that Gabriel was now hers.

She was married to the man she loved and he clearly loved her, even if he did have trouble saying the words. Many women, she knew, were not so lucky. For most people marriage was a practical matter entered into for the sake of property, social position, and inheritances.

She was one of the rare, fortunate women in her world who had married for love. And to think she had almost spoiled everything this morning by running off. Perhaps Gabriel had a point when he called her reckless.

Phoebe stretched carefully, aware that she was getting stiff. Gabriel's arm slid off her breast. He did not waken. The man was obviously exhausted. He'd had a hard day, to say the least.

She sat up slowly and gazed around the study. She was wide awake and strangely alert. The last thing she wanted to do right now was sleep. The contents of Gabriel's bookshelves beckoned.

She rose carefully from the quilt and slipped into the white lawn nightgown she had brought with her. Then she went over to the nearest bookcase.

She studied the row of leather-bound volumes behind the glass and was very impressed. When she reminded herself that this was only a small portion of his magnificent collection, she shook her head in amazement. One of the pleasures of being married to Gabriel, she thought smugly, was that she now had access to his library.

She stood on tiptoe to read the spines of the next row of books. The breath went out of her lungs when her gaze fell upon a familiar-looking volume. She stared, unwilling to believe her eyes. But there it was, inscribed in gilt: The Lady in the Tower.

It was her copy. She was almost certain of it.

Stunned, Phoebe glanced back over her shoulder at Gabriel. He had not moved, but his eyes were open now. He watched her, his expression unreadable in the flickering glow of the fire.

"I told you that I would complete the quest," he said quietly. "I promised to see to it that you found your copy of The Lady in the Tower before the end of the Season."

Phoebe turned slowly to confront him. "You found it but you neglected to tell me? Gabriel, I do not understand." She brightened as the obvious truth dawned on her. "Wait. It was to be my wedding gift, was it not?"

"Phoebe, listen to me."

But Phoebe was certain she knew what had happened. "What a wonderful surprise. I am so sorry I ruined it for you, but never fear. I am thrilled. Where did you find it? Who was the owner?"

He sat up slowly, heedless of his nakedness. The firelight danced on his broad shoulders, turning his skin to burnished gold. He raised one knee and rested his arm on it. His emerald eyes were full of brooding shadows.

"I am the owner of the book, Phoebe."

Phoebe swallowed uncertainly. "What do you mean? How did you acquire it?"

"I removed it from Baxter's cabin after we boarded his ship." Gabriel's voice was curiously lacking in inflection. "Baxter chose the sea rather than hanging. He went overboard and disappeared. He was presumed drowned."

"You boarded his ship?" Phoebe discovered that her knees suddenly felt weak. She sank down slowly onto the window seat and clasped her hands very tightly together in her lap. "Dear God, Gabriel, are you telling me you were a pirate in the South Seas? I refuse to believe it."

"I'm glad. Because I was no pirate. Merely a hardworking businessman trying to make a living in the pearl trade. Baxter was the one who took up pirating when he reached the islands."

"Impossible," Phoebe said quickly. "He would do no such thing."

"It does not particularly matter whether you believe it or not. It's the truth. Apparently he found it easier and more efficient than entering into a legitimate shipping venture. He became something of a nuisance to my company and to others. Someone had to get rid of him."

"A nuisance," Phoebe echoed, her mind spinning.

Gabriel's expression was grim. "He managed to acquire control of a ship of his own. He boarded two of my firm's ships, killing a number of men in the process. He stole a large quantity of goods, including an extremely valuable set of jewelry made of black pearls, gold, and diamonds. After that incident I decided to find him before he did any further damage."

Phoebe gazed at Gabriel in stunned amazement. "Good lord. This is incredible. I cannot believe I was so wrong about Neil."

"Because he played the part of Lancelot while he set up his scheme to blackmail your father? Baxter was a clever bastard. You were not the only woman he succeeded in deceiving."

Phoebe's face flamed. "You make me sound like a fool."

Gabriel's expression softened. "You are no fool, my sweet, but you arc naive. Women are vulnerable to men such as Baxter. They long to believe the illusion he creates."

Phoebe's hands tightened in her lap. "You speak as if you have known other women who believed he was Lancelot."

"Out in the islands Baxter managed to pass himself off as a prosperous man engaged in legitimate shipping. He mingled freely with those of us who were in the shipping business, gaining information that he then used to set his traps for our ships." Gabriel's gaze hardened. "He preyed on the women, seeking details on cargoes and routes."

"The women?"

"Wives and daughters and … " Gabriel hesitated briefly, "others. He charmed them and they willingly told him what he wanted to know."

"I see." Phoebe was silent for a moment, working through the logic of the situation. "You have had my book all along. You were the object of my quest."

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

She looked at him. "Why did you not tell me?"

"There were a number of reasons. Chief among them was that you thought the owner of that book was a murderous pirate."

She smiled tremulously. "Of course. Naturally you were afraid to admit you had the book, for fear I would think the worst of you."

"Bloody hell." Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "It was not that I was afraid to admit it, rather that I had other plans."

"What other plans?"

"I have had enough of this nonsense," Gabriel said grimly. "'Tis past time we had everything out in the open. Let us begin from the beginning. After I met you on that lane in Sussex, I decided I wanted you. The book was the key to getting you."

Phoebe's eyes widened. "You mean you knew you wanted to marry me right from the start? Gabriel, that is so romantic. You really ought to have told me."

Gabriel got to his feet and slammed his palm against the mantel. "Damn it, woman, why do you insist on seeing me as a heroic knight filled with honorable intentions?" He turned his head to glare at her. "I said I wanted you. To be perfectly blunt, I had no thought of marriage. Not at the beginning of our relationship. I wanted you in my bed. That was as far as matters went."

"Oh." She did not know what to say to that. At least he had wanted her, she thought. "So you agreed to help me in my quest as a way of getting to know me better?"

"As a way of getting you into my bed, damn it."

She smiled hopefully. "Well, your intentions might not have been, strictly speaking, entirely honorable at the start."

"You may be certain they were not."

"But you changed them quickly; that is the important thing. Your intentions became honorable when you got to know me."