"Neil, this is incredible. I cannot tell you how happy I am to see that you are alive and well. You must tell me what happened." She remembered what Gabriel had told her about Neil's activities in the South Seas. "There have been dreadful rumors."

"Have there? I have no doubt they were spread by your new husband. When he learns that he did not succeed in murdering me, he will probably create even more slanderous tales."

Phoebe's mouth went dry. "Are you telling me that Wylde has lied about you? You were not a pirate?"

"Me? A pirate? How could you believe such a thing about your own true Lancelot?" Neil's gaze turned very grave. "I am frightened for you, my love."

"I am not your love, Neil. I was never your love." She hesitated. "Why are you frightened for me?"

"My dearest Phoebe, you have married one of the bloodiest buccaneers who ever sailed the South Seas. The man was the scourge of the shipping routes. He captured my small vessel and looted it. Then he gave every man on board the option of death by the sword or the sea. I chose the sea."

"No. I cannot believe that. Neil, you must be mistaken."

"I was there. I nearly died. Trust me, my dearest, it is the truth. Every word of it."

"What happened to you? How did you survive?"

"I drifted for days on a bit of wood before washing ashore on an island. I was driven nearly mad from thirst and hunger and the sun. Only the memory of your sweet face kept me clinging to life."

"Dear heaven."

Neil's mouth tightened. His hazel eyes glittered briefly with rage. "It took me months to get off that damned rock. And when I finally succeeded in getting to a port town, I had no money. I was ruined when Wylde sank my ship. Everything I had was invested in it. It has taken me all this time to gather sufficient funds to return to England."

Phoebe stared at him. "Neil, I don't know what to say or what to believe. None of this makes any sense. I was told that my father paid you to leave England."

"We both know your father was not pleased with our growing friendship," Neil reminded her gently.

"Yes, but did he pay you to stay away from me? That is what I want to know."

Neil smiled grimly. "An anonymous benefactor paid for my passage to the South Seas. I never learned his name. I assumed it was an old friend who came to my aid. Someone who knew I needed to make my fortune so that I would be worthy of you. Naturally, I seized the opportunity."

Phoebe felt dizzy, and not because of the sedate dancing. She tried frantically to deal with the implications of what she was hearing. "I do not understand any of this, Neil."

"No, my dearest, I am aware of that. But I understand only too well. Wylde has returned to England with eight years worth of plunder and has set himself up as a respectable member of the Social World."

"He was not a pirate," Phoebe insisted. "I know him too well now to believe that."

"Not as well as I do," Neil said softly. "He has taken from me the only woman I ever wanted to marry."

"I'm sorry, Neil, but you know I would never have married you. I told you that eight years ago."

"I could have convinced you to love me. Never fear. I am not angry with you. This marriage to Wylde is not your fault. You were led to believe I was dead."

"Yes." There seemed no point informing him yet again that even if she had believed him to be alive, she would not have waited for him. She had never intended to marry him and she had always tried to make that clear to him. She had wanted Neil as a friend, not as a lover or a husband.

"Like the pirate he is, Wylde has taken everything I valued. My ship, the woman I love, and the one memento I treasured above all others."

Phoebe's eyes widened as a dreadful premonition struck her. "Memento?"

"He took the book you gave me, my dearest. I saw him steal it that day he boarded my ship. He stripped my cabin bare of all my small valuables and then he found The Lady in the Tower. I was nearly killed trying to prevent him from stealing it. Its loss grieved me more than I can say. It was all I had of you."

The niggling sense of guilt that was plaguing Phoebe grew worse. "Neil, I am so confused."

"I understand, my love. You have been fed some very finely spun lies and you do not know what to believe. All I ask is that you remember what we once were to each other."

A terrifying thought struck Phoebe. "What will you do now, Neil? Are you going to try to get Wylde thrown into prison? Because if so, I must tell you—"

"No, Phoebe, I will make no effort to see that Wylde meets the fate he deserves, for the simple reason that I can prove nothing. It all happened thousands of miles away and he and I are the only ones who know the truth. It would be my word against his. And he is now an earl. Furthermore, he is as rich as the devil himself and I am nearly penniless. Who do you think the court would believe?"

"I see." Phoebe sighed with relief. That was one problem she did not have to worry about at the moment.

"Phoebe?"

"Yes, Neil?"

"I know that you are trapped in this marriage."

"I am not exactly trapped," she muttered.

"A wife is at the mercy of her husband. And I pity any woman who is at Wylde's mercy. You are very dear to me and I shall continue to love you for the rest of my days. I want you to know that."

Phoebe swallowed. "That is very kind of you, Neil, but you must not pine for me. Truly, you must get on with your life."

He smiled. "I will survive, dearest, just as I survived all those days at sea. But it would give me great solace if I could have the book you gave me when I left England."

"You want The Lady in the Tower?"

"It is all I will ever have of you, Phoebe. I assume Wylde brought it back with him along with the rest of his booty?"

"Well, yes." Phoebe scowled. "That is to say, he brought it back with him from the South Seas along with his fortune."

"The book belongs to you, my love. It is yours to give or withhold. If you have any pity or affection left at all for your devoted Lancelot, I beg you to allow me to keep The Lady in the Tower. I cannot tell you how much it means to me."

Panic gripped Phoebe. "Neil, it is very gallant of you to want to keep The Lady in the Tower, but I really do not think I am in a position to give it to you."

"I understand. You must be cautious around Wylde. He is an extremely dangerous man. It would be best if you did not tell your husband that I want my keepsake back. There is no knowing what he might do. He hates me."

Phoebe frowned. "I would prefer that you not make personal comments about my husband. I do not wish to listen to them."

"Of course you don't. A wife must contrive to believe the best of her husband. It is her duty."

"It is not that precisely." Phoebe was irritated at the mention of wifely duty. "It is only that I cannot bring myself to believe Wylde was a pirate."

"Surely you do not believe that I was one?" Neil asked gently.

"Well, no," she admitted. "It is very difficult to picture you as a bloodthirsty buccaneer."

Neil inclined his head. "Thank you for that much, at least."

Phoebe was aware of Gabriel's presence in the ballroom before she saw him. A strong sense of relief washed through her. But when she turned her head and realized he was striding straight toward her, she had a change of heart.

She had a horrible feeling there was going to be a dreadful scene.

Gabriel looked every inch the hawk tonight. His green eyes were as pitiless as any raptor's. His black evening clothes emphasized the stark lines of his face and the predatory quality of his body. His gaze never left Phoebe and Neil as he approached.

When Gabriel reached them, he took Phoebe's hand off Neil's shoulder and pulled her to his side. His voice was lethally soft as he confronted Neil.