Phoebe was curled up in a chair near the window, her slippered feet tucked under the skirts of her pumpkin-colored gown. The watery sunlight filtering in through the narrow windows formed a warm halo around her dark hair. There was a prim little white ruffle around her throat.

Gabriel felt the sharp stab of guilt. She had probably been crying all morning.

"Phoebe?" he said gently.

"Yes, my lord?" She did not look up from the book in her lap.

"I came to see what you were doing."

"I am reading." She still did not look up. She seemed totally consumed by whatever it was she was studying.

"I see." Gabriel closed the door and walked forward. He came to a halt near the fireplace and stood gazing down at her bent head. He realized he did not know what to say next. He sought desperately for the right words. "About last night …»

"Hmm?"

Her obvious lack of interest in the subject left him floundering again for words. He took a deep breath. "I apologize if it was less than you might have wished for in a wedding night,"

"You must not blame yourself, my lord, she said, head still bent over the book. I am certain \you did your best."

Her condescending tone took him back slightly. "Yes. Well, that is true. Phoebe, we are husband and wife now. It's important that there be complete honesty between us."

"I understand." Phoebe turned the page in her book. "I had not planned to complain, mind you, because you really did try very hard to make the experience a pleasant one. But since you believe so keenly in honesty, I am willing to be blunt."

He frowned. "You are?"

"Of course. To be perfectly frank, my lord, it was all something of a disappointment."

"Yes, I know, my dear, but that is only because you had some highly unrealistic notions about married life."

"I suppose so." Phoebe turned another page and studied an illustration. "But that was partly your fault. After what happened that night in Brantley's maze, I'm afraid I assumed I would experience the same interesting sensations when we actually engaged in the marital act. I had quite looked forward to it and no doubt my expectations were far too high."

Gabriel felt himself turn a dull red as it struck him that she was talking about his lovemaking, not the conversation which had followed. "Phoebe, for God's sake, I'm not discussing that."

"Weren't you, my lord?" She looked up at last, her gaze politely quizzical. "I'm sorry. What were you discussing?"

He wanted to shake her. "I'm talking about the conversation we had after you found The Lady in the Tower."

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. Damnation, woman, as far as the love-making is concerned, you need have no fears on that account. I told you it would improve mightily for you the next time."

Phoebe pursed her lips in a considering fashion. "Perhaps."

"There is no perhaps about it."

"Then again, perhaps not."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I should take you straight upstairs to your bedchamber and demonstrate."

"No, thank you."

"Why not?" Gabriel's hand clenched around the edge of the mantel. It was either that or he would find himself wrapping his fingers around her throat. "Because it's the middle of the afternoon? Don't tell me my reckless Veiled Lady has suddenly turned prim and proper. Have I married a little prig?"

"It's not that." She returned her attention to her book. "It's simply that I do not believe the experience will improve until I can be certain that you truly love me. I have therefore decided there will be no more such incidents until you have learned to do so."

His fingers were clamped so fiercely around the mantel that it was a miracle he had not cracked the marble. He stared at her angelically bent head. "You little devil. So that is your game, is it?"

"I assure you I am not playing any games, my lord."

"You think you can continue to manage me the way you did before our marriage? I am no longer your personal knight-errant, madam. I am your husband."

"I have come to the conclusion that knights-errant are a great deal more fun than husbands."

He must not lose his temper, Gabriel told himself. He must not let his self-control slip. If he was to gain the upper hand in this domestic skirmish, he was going to have to stay cool under fire.

"You may be right, madam," Gabriel said evenly. "I have no doubt that a headstrong, willful female such as yourself would find an obedient knight-errant vastly more amusing than a husband. But it is a husband you have got now."

"I would prefer to keep the relationship in name only."

"Hell and damnation. Have you gone mad? There is absolutely no possibility of that. I will not allow you to manipulate me in such a fashion."

"I am not trying to manipulate you." Phoebe finally looked up from her book. "But I am determined that you learn to love me before you make love to me again."

"You do realize men have beaten their wives for less cause than this?" Gabriel asked very politely.

"We have already been through this, Gabriel. You will not beat me."

"There are other ways of exercising my husbandly rights. I found a means last night, did I not?"

She sighed. "1 was under a misapprehension last night. When you took that terrible risk of climbing down from the roof, I thought you were proving your love for me. In future I will not be so easily fooled. You need not bother to risk your neck again in that fashion."

"I see." Gabriel inclined his head with icy civility. Two could play at this game, he decided. "Very well, then, madam. You have made your position clear. You may be certain I will not force myself on you."

She looked surprised. "I did not think you would."

He took a grip on his temper. "When you are ready to resume your duties as a wife, be so good as to let me know. In the meantime, rest assured you will receive every courtesy as a guest here at Devil's Mist." Me started toward the door.

"Gabriel, wait, I did not mean to say I considered myself a guest in your home."

He paused briefly, careful to hide his satisfaction. "I beg your pardon? 1 thought that was the sort of relationship you wished."

"No, of course it isn't." She scowled in consternation. "I want us to get to know each other better. I feel certain you can learn to love if you will only give yourself a chance. 1 mean for us to live as man and wife in all other respects save in the bedchamber. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes, Phoebe, it is. As I said, let me know when you are ready to be a wife. In the meantime I shall consider you a guest."

Gabriel went out into the hall without a backward glance and stalked through the rows of armor suits to the staircase. He was going to get some writing done this afternoon if it killed him. He was determined that the day would not be a total loss.

Three days later Phoebe retreated again to Gabriel's magnificent library and curled up in her favorite chair.

She gazed out a window and acknowledged that she was in serious danger of losing the grimly polite war that was going on between Gabriel and herself. Indeed, she did not know how much more she could stand of it. Gabriel's will was proving more than a match for her own.

Perhaps she had been doomed to lose from the beginning simply because she was more vulnerable than he. After all, she loved him with all her heart and he knew it. The knowledge definitely gave him the advantage, she realized glumly. Gabriel was clever enough to reason that if he simply waited, her defenses would collapse.

The worst of it was that as far as Phoebe could tell, she was not making any headway at all in teaching Gabriel to love her.

It was not that he was ignoring her, she reflected. It was that he insisted on treating her with an awful politeness that almost brought her to the point of tears. He no longer argued with her or lectured her or complained about her lack of wifely obedience.