Emily laughed with relief. "That is just what I was telling him, Simon. I knew you did not mean to bar him from the house. There is no need to arrange this sort of meeting when we can have a nice visit in the drawing room. But Papa seems to be under the impression you do not want him to ever see me again."

Both men looked at her with as much amazement as if the cherub on the fountain had just spoken.

Simon gazed at her coldly. "It will probably not be possible to avoid your father altogether, especially when we are in town. But you are never, under any circumstances, to meet with him or the twins alone. On those rare occasions when we do find ourselves obliged to see your family, I shall always accompany you. Do you understand that, Emily?"

"But, Simon…" She stared at him, taken aback by the implacable tone of his voice. "Surely, you go too far. There is no harm in my visiting with my own family."

"Damn right," Broderick said quickly, swinging back to confront the earl. "Damn it, we're her family, man."

"Not any longer. Emily has a new family now," Simon said. "And you may rest assured that as her husband, I will look after her and protect her from those who would take advantage of her."

"Damn and blast, Blade," Faringdon sputtered. "You cannot keep the girl a prisoner."

"No?" Simon slapped the riding crop against his boot again. He looked almost amused.

Emily did not like the atmosphere between the two men. It frightened her. She put her hand on her father's coat sleeve. "Papa, please do not argue with Simon today. This is my honeymoon. I am certain everything will work out. Perhaps it would be best if you left for London now."

"An excellent notion, Faringdon." Simon braced one boot on the edge of the fountain and ran the riding crop through his fingers. He managed to imbue the small, casual gesture with threatening implications. "Best take your leave. The gaming tables of London are waiting for you, are they not? It will be amusing to see how long you can hold on to your memberships in the St. James clubs."

"Damn you." Broderick looked stricken. "Are you threatening to have me thrown out of the clubs?"

"Not at all." Simon flicked a tiny speck of dirt off his breeches. "I could do so, of course. But there is no need to take such extreme measures. You will get yourself thrown out soon enough and so will your sons, when you are no longer able to pay your debts of honor. And when your luck has run out in the respectable clubs, you will be forced into the gaming hells, where your luck will run out even faster, won't it?"

"My God, man," Faringdon breathed, turning pale.

Emily was truly horrified now. It finally dawned on her that the antagonism between Simon and her father was much deeper than she had initially realized. "Simon?" she whispered hesitantly.

"Go back to the house, Emily. I will talk to you later."

"Simon, I would speak with you now."

"Do that, Emily." Broderick crammed his beaver hat more firmly on his head, his blue eyes bright with rage and frustration. "Reason with this monster you have married, if you can. But do not count on being able to soften him toward your family. He hates us all, even the twins, who never did him any harm. And if he hates them, he must also despise you. After all, you're just one more Faringdon."

"Papa, you do not understand."

"One more Faringdon," Broderick repeated savagely. "Consider that well, Emily, when he comes to you in the middle of the night and demands his rights as your husband. Contemplate it as you lay there with him rutting away on you like a stallion covering a mare."

Emily gasped in genuine shock. Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening behind the lenses of her spectacles. No man had ever talked that way in her presence, not even the twins when they teased her.

"Get out of here, Faringdon," Simon said in a dangerously soft voice. He took his booted foot down from the edge of the pool. "Now."

"I wish you joy in the marriage bed, my dearest daughter," Broderick said sarcastically. He turned on his heel and left.

Emily wanted to call out to her father but she seemed to have lost her voice. She just stood there staring mutely after him and then Simon moved. He came to stand directly in front of her, blocking her view of her father's retreating back. His eyes were terrifyingly emotionless.

"Oh, Simon, he does not understand," Emily said softly.

"I would not be too certain of that." Simon took her arm and guided her back toward the house. "I believe he is finally beginning to understand very well, indeed."

"But he does not realize that our relationship is entirely different from what he imagines." She slanted a beseeching glance up at her husband's impassive profile. Silently she urged him to agree with her. "He is concerned for me because he does not know about our special form of union. He has not studied metaphysical matters."

"That I can well believe. The only thing your father has ever studied is a hand of cards. Emily, I think I should make it very clear to you that I meant what I said a few minutes ago. You are not ever to be alone with your father or your brothers. I am to be with you whenever you see them and those occasions will be kept to the minimum. Nor are you to send any further instructions to Davenport concerning their financial arrangements."

"Simon, I know you wanted revenge against my father, but surely you are satisfied with having regained St. Clair Hall. I know you threatened my father that you would not let him have access to me but surely you did not mean to carry out that threat. Not if you got the house."

"What makes you think I should be satisfied with having the house back? Your father sold off all the family lands. Nothing can replace the properties that were lost. And nothing can make up for the fact that my father put a bullet through his brain because of what your father did to him. Nothing can make up for the fact that my mother went into a decline and died because of your father's actions. Nothing can make up for the fact that your father destroyed my family."

Emily was stunned by the depth of rage and bitterness in Simon's voice. He had never before revealed such intense emotion. For the first time she began to realize Simon's feelings toward her family went far beyond a simple demand for justice.

"I understand and I am truly sorry," Emily said quickly. "You must know that. But it all happened a long time ago. It concerns our parents, not us. It was the work of an earlier generation. Now that you have St. Clair Hall back, you must let go of the past. It will only continue to torment you if you do not. Simon, you must look to the future."

"Really? And what, precisely, do you propose I contemplate when I gaze upon the future?" Simon asked dryly.

Emily took a deep breath. "Well, there is the matter of our relationship, my lord," she suggested tentatively. "As you pointed out last night, it has been considerably enhanced and deepened now by our physical union. We share something very special. Surely you will want to let go of the sadness of the past and concentrate instead on the joys of our greatly expanded methods of communication."

He looked down at her, brows arched in icy amusement. "Are you suggesting that I forgo the remainder of my vengeance against your family in favor of the joys of the marriage bed?"

Emily was increasingly uncertain of Simon's odd mood. A deep foreboding swept over her as she peered up at him through her spectacles. He looked very dangerous suddenly; a dragon had invaded the south garden, a dragon looking for prey.

"Last night," Emily said slowly, "you said that for us the pleasures of the marriage bed would be unique. You told me they would be connected to the pure and noble passions of the metaphysical realm. That our union took place on the transcendental plane as well as on the physical plane. Surely that sort of relationship is very special and should be nurtured and cherished, my lord?"