"What are we going to do?"
"Find Tilter."
"Why? We're not looking for Leila, we want to know what happened to Holt."
"By following in Holt's tracks and making inquiries about Leila, we'll find out what happened to him." Alec smiled bleakly. "Though preferably not through firsthand experience."
Mira stirred drowsily, her eyes squinting against the brilliant sun, which had warmed her skin and filled her with languor. After reading in the garden for the better part of an hour, she had shifted from her seat on the giant sundial to the thick grass that bordered one of the many garden paths that wound around Berkeley Hall. Nearby, birds fluttered around a small stone pool filled with star-shaped flowers. Smiling sleepily at the sounds of tiny flapping wings, trickling water, and indignant chirps, Mira slipped an arm behind her head and sprawled more comfortably on the grass, drifting in and out of a light sleep. But then there was an abrupt flapping and a chorus of cries from the birds as they flew away. Although she had heard no other sound, Mira knew that someone or something had approached, and she opened her eyes quizzically. Alec was there, his hair shining as sleek and black as a raven's wing, a slow smile pulling at his mouth. He was back, she thought, and it brought her a sense of wholeness. He was so carelessly handsome as he stood there that Mira felt her heart clench in an instant of pure pleasure. Though she would love him equallyeven if he were far less agreeable to the eye, she could not deny that his attractiveness was something she took a certain measure of pride in.
"How unfair it is," she said softly, and Alec lowered himself beside her in a lithe movement.
"What is unfair?" He braced an elbow on either side of her head and looked down at her intently.
"That you received such an overabundance of handsomeness, and left all others only a little bit to share among themselves."
"Mira…" he whispered, his eyes caressing her. "How are the wedding plans progressing?"
"Marvelously. I have ordered the most wonderful gown to be made—chartreuse, black, and purple—and we are going to decorate the church with lovely green weeds, and you won't mind at all that you weren't here to help me decide everyth—"
He smothered the rest of her statement with an ardent kiss, a deep purr vibrating in his throat. When he lifted his head, they stared into each other's eyes with a new understanding. The separation of the past week had been different from the other separations which had preceded it, and they both knew why.
"I'm sorry for the way I sent you off," Mira said softly.
"I shouldn't have left like that. I should have made certain that you understood—"
"I did understand, I was just being selfish."
"I don't mind your being selfish about me."
"I am, terribly. If I could, I would just keep you in a room all to myself and never let you out."
"Just so long as it's the bedroom."
"Have we ever made love in a bedroom, like other people do?" Mira asked dreamily. "Wouldn't it be wonderful?"
"We did, once. And yes, it was wonderful." Gently his teeth caught at her lower lip. "Unspeakably wonderful."They filled the remaining time they had together with low, soft murmurs, slow kisses, and stolen caresses. Mira did not ask about the week in London, nor about what Alec had discovered about Holt. Perhaps later. But for now, Alec did not mention it either.
The night before the wedding, Mira was unable to sleep. Lighting a candle, she made her way downstairs with the intention of heating some water for a soothing herbal tea. On the way to the kitchen, soft light shining from the library attracted her attention, and she went to investigate its source. Gently she tapped on the half-closed door.
"Come in," came Rosalie's voice, and Mira entered the room hesitantly, discovering that her friend was sitting in a leather chair with an open book in her lap and a glass of wine in her hand. "I couldn't sleep," Rosalie confessed sheepishly, closing the book. "Heaven knows why, since it's your wedding… but I came down here to read, thinking that it would help to take my mind off tomorrow."
"I can't seem to relax enough even to lie still," Mira said. Her glance moved to the wine bottle and the neatly polished glasses that were poised on a silver tray. "I was going to take some tea. I think your idea is much better."
"By all means," Rosalie said, and they both laughed softly. As Mira settled into a corner of the low-backed sofa, Rosalie's expression sobered somewhat. "Mireille, I've been lending some thought to the fact that this is the night before your wedding, and traditionally… you know that certain things should be discussed so that the expectations of a bride are not too… too… different from what is actually going to-… happen. I know that you… well, we've never talked about your past relationships with men, so I don't know what you may or may not have done with…" She cleared her throat and forced herself to meet Mira's eyes directly. "But… what I'm trying soineptly to say is that there might be questions that you have about tomorrow night. So if you would like me to-"