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Morwenna went downstairs to find Caro and tell her that she and Robert planned to leave for Leicestershire. She found her sister-in-law in the library, writing a letter. To her four children back at Woodley Park, Morwenna guessed.

Caro was a marvellous mother and Morwenna tried to follow her example when it came to Kerenza. So far, it seemed to be working, although at times she despaired of her ability to provide what her high-spirited, fatherless daughter needed.

Fatherless no more, thank God.

At Morwenna’s appearance, Caro surged to her feet and rushed over to give her a hug. “Morwenna, how are you managing?”

To her chagrin, that sympathetic question was all it took to demolish her hard-won control, and she burst into tears. “Oh, Caro...” she said thickly and hugged her dear friend back.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Caro murmured, rubbing her back.

“I shouldn’t be blubbing,” Morwenna choked out into Caro’s welcoming shoulder. “I should be happy.”

“Of course you’re happy,” Caro said unsteadily, and Morwenna realized her friend was crying, too. “We all are.”

She let Caro draw her across to a leather sofa in front of the fire. Outside the rain tumbled down, and the light inside was soft and gray. The library felt like a cozy sanctuary from the real world.

“I am happy,” Morwenna said huskily. “But...”

Caro pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and passed it to Morwenna, even as she wiped her damp eyes with her fingers. “But it’s all been too much to take in. And you’ve been so desperate to keep up a brave front for Robert.”

Morwenna sent Caro a thankful glance out of eyes glazed with tears. “He’s so afraid of losing his control...” Except for those moments when he’d moved inside her body. Then he hadn’t been controlled at all. And she’d loved it. “It’s hard not to turn into a complete watering pot. He’s been through so much and...and...”

“And it shows, although he works like the dickens to hide it. It nearly killed him, telling us what little he did. And it’s clear there was so much more, and so much worse. His courage breaks the heart.”

Morwenna sniffed and gave her friend a shaky smile. “When he was talking to all of us, I just wanted to put my arms around him and tell him that he’s safe now.”

Perhaps in the future, Robert would lay down his defenses long enough to accept comfort separate from desire. But not yet.

As if Caro read her thoughts, she said, “And you’re so afraid that he might break, because all that’s holding him together is pride and that great, brave heart.”

“The heart that kept him alive through his suffering. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to control myself when he told us that horrible, horrible story.”

Caro’s smile was misty. “I was close to bawling like a lost calf. Believe me. And Lord, I thought Silas was going to blow it all by losing his grip.”

“But he held on. He’s been brave, too.”

“The Nash men are remarkable. We’re lucky to have them.”

When Caro stopped talking to direct a searching regard at her, Morwenna realized her expression must have betrayed her.

“Morwenna, you do have him. Surely you know that. The only time he looks halfway close to his old self is when he’s with you.”

Nervous hands tore at the flimsy handkerchief. “Oh, I know he loved me.”

She realized she’d used the betraying past tense when Caro frowned. “For heaven’s sake, the man worships the ground you walk on.”

“I don’t...I don’t think he knows what he feels anymore,” she said in a hollow voice.

Caro made a disgusted sound. “Nonsense. He can’t keep his hands off you.”

She blushed, wondering if the family guessed what had happened in the breakfast room not so long ago. “But that doesn’t mean he still loves me. He’s been locked up for a long time. He has a lot to make up for.”

Caro surveyed her with disapproval. “Morwenna, do you remember his reaction to seeing you with Garson? We’re lucky blood wasn’t spilled.”

“But that was just...”

“Male possessiveness? It looked like more than that to me.”

“There’s no guarantee love will survive such a separation. Especially as he’s come back so changed. You remember what he used to be like. The man who made every party sparkle.”

Caro regarded her thoughtfully. “Does that mean you’re disappointed in the man he’s become?”

Morwenna surged to her feet in denial. “No, never. My love isn’t the easy type of love that ever changes, however changed the man I love.”

Caro looked pleased and leaned back against the deep brown leather. “Then why don’t you credit Robert with the same steadfastness? He’s changed, but so have you. It doesn’t mean you love each other less. Time and experience change love for everyone. If you’re lucky, they make it stronger.”

“That’s how it worked for you and Silas.” Morwenna went back to torturing her damp handkerchief. “But who says it will work that way for Robert and me?”

“Who says it won’t?” Impatience sparked in Caro’s blue eyes. “Is he the man you want?”

“More than ever.” She voiced thoughts she’d hardly admitted to herself. “He seems deeper and more true to himself now.”

Caro’s expression softened, and she blinked away another tear. “And so do you. You’ve both paid such a heavy price over the last years. Don’t let all that suffering go to waste. If any two people deserve happiness, it’s you and Robert.”

Caro’s words rang in Morwenna’s ears as Silas’s luxurious traveling coach bowled north toward Leicestershire. For several hours, her husband had watched her with a heavy-lidded gaze that hinted at carnal intentions. They hadn’t spoken since he’d told her about his meetings at the Admiralty. Long conversations still tested his stamina.

“We could have waited until the morning and gone then.” She gripped the strap for balance against the lurching vehicle. Robert had told the coachman not to spare the horses.

“Leaving today gets us to Kerenza all the sooner.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you want to see her.”

His marked black brows contracted. “Of course I want to see her.”

“I don’t even know if you like children. There’s so much we never had a chance to discover about each other.”

He still watched her like a fox watched a rabbit hole. She shifted uncomfortably. That steady gaze disturbed her, made her blood thick with awareness.

“It will make life interesting.”

She felt a mixture of relief and chagrin when he looked away toward the window. It was wet outside, but the rain gradually eased.

“So do you?” she asked, breaking the silence that fell.

He turned back to her. “What?”

“Like children.”

He shrugged. “Before I was captured, I was a young man pursuing a naval career. I was interested in my ship and my wife. Not much else. The next generation didn’t occupy my thoughts to any great extent. I saw a bit of my nieces and nephews when I had shore leave, and I liked them well enough, in the way a fellow with his way to make likes other people’s children. Since then I’ve spent my time struggling to preserve my sanity. I’m still a novice with children, but I’ll wager last year’s pay that when I get the chance, I’ll like my own.”

“I hope so,” she said doubtfully, even as she noted how much more smoothly he spoke now than when he’d first arrived home.

With every mile they traveled out of London, he’d looked less on edge. And younger, with the deep lines between nose and mouth no longer so in evidence. Dear heaven, he was only twenty-nine. He should look like a man with his whole life ahead of him.

He reached across and touched her cheek. The contact, meant as comfort, sizzled through her like a blast of summer lightning. How she wished she had the courage to ask him to ease this endless wanting. They’d changed horses twenty minutes ago, so they had guaranteed privacy for miles ahead.

“When did my wife become a worrier?”

She didn’t smile at the gentle gibe. “You know when.”

He looked stricken and lowered his hand. “That was an insensitive question, wasn’t it?”

“No,” she said. “You’re still feeling your way back to the world. And...and to me. I’m feeling my way back to you, too. We need to be kind to each other while we find out where we stand.”

His mouth twisted. With poignant curiosity, she wondered if he’d ever smile at her properly. From their first meeting, she’d loved his smile. Robert had smiled with his whole face. Even on the stormiest day, his smile always made her feel like the sun shone.

“Being kind to each other is a good rule in any case.” He paused. “I can’t keep from thinking about you left alone to raise our child. A widow too young.”

“Not a widow, thank goodness,” she said, glad they were talking about this, despite her disturbingly wanton inclinations. They had so much to make up for, and however intoxicating his touch, words alone could bridge the gulf between them.

She hoped one day—pray God, it came soon—he’d feel ready to share the details of his ordeal. Not because she wanted to hear. Her response to his terse retelling had been so devastating, she’d need all her strength to bear the full agonizing truth. But because she could only help him to heal when she knew the extent of his wounds.

His expression softened. “No, not a widow.”

Another silence fell, on Morwenna’s side brimming with gratitude too huge for mere words to express.

Robert reached forward to take her gloved hand. “Tell me about the last five years.”

Morwenna sighed, even as his touch made her heart skip a beat. How to cover such a long interval? “Kerenza has been the center of it, although I made sure she spent a lot of time with her cousins and uncles and aunts. I was so sunk in grief, I wasn’t always the best company for a lively toddler. Your family has been magnificent, especially Silas and Caro. They couldn’t do enough, and they’ve made sure I wanted for nothing.” She paused. “Except all I wanted was you alive and back in my arms. Even Silas couldn’t arrange that.”

Robert frowned. “You haven’t been living on my brother’s charity?”

“No, you left me more than adequately provided for. I’m talking about company and affection and support. I think for Caro and Silas, I was a link to you. They took me in for your sake.”

“And for yours. It’s clear they love you on your own account.”

“I hope they do. Just as I love them.” She smiled, as she remembered how good Robert’s family had always been to her. “And they love Kerenza like one of their own. I can’t tell you how thankful I am that she’s part of a family when she’s at Woodley Park.”

“I owe Silas so damned much,” he said, with a hint of grimness. “I should have stayed in London.”

She shook her head. “They see what it’s like for you. You find too much company...painful, don’t you?”

He looked startled. “Is it so obvious?”

“To people who care about you, it is. We all know you need time and understanding. Silas and Caro are willing to wait for you to recover your spirits.”

He shook his head in self-disgust. “In London, I could feel the pressure of them wanting me to fall back into their love. It sounds rude and ungracious, but...”

“But you’re not ready yet. They know.” She paused. “I know. And the house there was threatening to become a riot with all those people clamoring to see you.”

“I felt under siege, even with Silas turning the visitors away.”

While Morwenna and Caro had struggled to come to terms with Robert’s miraculous survival, a constant stream of callers had come to the door. Some to offer genuine good wishes, most curious to see Robert returned from the dead, and a good number avid for gossip about the disastrous end to her engagement to Garson.

To her regret, Robert released her hand. “I felt like a wild animal on display in a menagerie.”

“And it’s too much.”

“It is.” His hands clenched on his thighs, and his expression tightened again. “I’ll be an ordinary man again, Morwenna. I swear I will.”

“Robert, don’t be so hard on yourself. You only came home yesterday.” She placed a soothing hand over one closed fist. Emotion turned her voice husky. “And for heaven’s sake, you’ve never been an ordinary man. You’ve always been wonderfully exceptional.”

He placed his other hand over hers, and she drew silent strength from his touch. She hated to see his pain and confusion. But at least he was here. She’d never imagined she’d touch him again, or hear his voice, or look into that beloved face, even sadly changed.

“Thank you.” He turned his hand to lace his fingers through hers.

He’d done that in London, when she’d touched his hand in silent reassurance while he’d struggled to tell his story. The gesture had moved her then. It moved her now. A proclamation that he and Morwenna stood together against the world.

“Your family just want what’s best for you.”

“I know.” His tone was wry. “They were very careful tiptoeing around me.”

“And that made you feel worse.”

His fingers tightened, squeezing her heart at the same time. But then, he’d held her heart in his hands from the moment she first saw him. “You understand.”

“They’ve been very careful with me, too. Sometimes the weight of all that love...”

“Becomes unendurable. That’s why you kept the Portsmouth house.”

Of course he understood her need for somewhere she could escape and be herself. “It was purely yours and mine. Everything contained a memory of you. And lovely as Woodley Park is, it’s a bit overwhelming for a country girl from Cornwall.”

“And it’s not your home.”

“No.” Her free hand made a dismissive gesture. “Oh, listen to me. I sound like the most ungrateful wretch in creation. Believe me, Caro and Silas couldn’t have done more for me. And Helena and Vernon have been wonderful as well.”

“But you still liked retreating to Portsmouth?”

Her smile was wry. “I did. Just as I liked having Kerenza to myself. And I had a good friend in the town. That’s where I met Sally, Lady Norwood. Without her company, life would have been even lonelier and sadder. Sally is the one who persuaded Amy and me to come up to London to play Dashing Widows this season.”

“I look forward to meeting her.”

Morwenna smiled when she thought of her lively, stylish friend. “Actually she’s Lady Kinglake now. She was the first Dashing Widow to find love. She married Sir Charles Kinglake last August.”

“And Amy is married, too. To the man she was madly in love with as a girl. How on earth did Pascal prize her away from her beloved cattle?”

Morwenna’s smile widened as she recalled farm-minded Amy’s topsy-turvy courtship. “I’ll tell you.”

As she told the story of Amy’s romance, something in her noted that this was the most natural conversation she and Robert had managed since his return. Hard to remember that last night, the effort of putting two words together had been beyond him.

Encouraged by his interest, she moved to other family news. New children had arrived, and the older Nash children had grown. Silas had been elected president of the Royal Society. His sister Helena and her husband Vernon, Lord West were away in Russia sorting out a diplomatic tangle. Vernon had long ago retired from international intrigues to breed champion racehorses, but this latest mission resulted from a direct royal command.

Eventually she paused. She reached a point where so much talking tested her stamina, too.

Robert leaned back against the seat. “By God, they’ve been busy, haven’t they?”

“There’s more. But that’s enough to go on with.”

Sadness shadowed his black eyes. “What a lot I’ve missed.”

Oh, no. Had she been wrong to say so much? She’d sensed his hunger to talk about something other than his captivity. But all this news just underlined his long absence.

“I’m sorry. Don’t imagine your loss wasn’t a gaping wound through everything we did.”

He shook his head. “I know I wasn’t forgotten. But I wasn’t just talking about the last five years. I’ve been away from my family most of my life.”

“You love the navy.”

“Loved. When I was a boy, it seemed the path to adventure and renown. But it’s a young man’s game. There are other adventures.”

“You served your country, saw the world, made the seas safer, and had a wonderful time,” she said slowly. “Don’t let your captivity destroy your pride in your achievements.”

“Oh, it won’t. But I’m devilish glad the navy accepted my resignation today.”

“So they really are finished with you?” For herself, she’d be delighted if he never set foot on anything that floated for the rest of his life. She wanted him close by and safe. But she was wise enough to know that only he could decide whether his soul had had enough of voyaging.

Robert gave an unamused grunt and looked out the window at the countryside wearing red and gold for autumn. “If only. They’ve granted me two months’ leave to recover, then I suspect I’ll be up to my neck in reports and committees and interviews. I’ve come back with valuable intelligence, for all that I spent most of my exile sitting on my arse in a prison cell.”

“Your information might help to defeat the pirates.”

“My report will probably end up in a dusty file nobody looks at.” This cynicism was new. The man she’d married had been unashamedly patriotic and idealistic.

“I don’t care,” she said emphatically. “You did your duty. And I’m proud of you.”

He looked startled and sat up straighter. “By God, are you?”

“Of course. And your daughter is convinced her father is the greatest navy man since Nelson.” She gave a shaky smile. “In fact, I don’t think Nelson gets a look-in.”

“She’s biased.” He looked touched and charmingly diffident. “So, my dear, are you.”

“Perhaps,” she admitted sheepishly, although she meant every word. “Do you mind?”

He sat back and folded his arms. “That my beautiful wife is inclined to admire me? Not in the slightest.”

It was her turn to look startled. “I’m glad you still think I’m beautiful.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, I haven’t had a lot of competition in recent years,” she said drily, even as she basked in his compliment.

She wanted him to find her beautiful. She wanted him to have eyes for nobody else.

He shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter. No other woman can hold a candle to you.”

How silly to blush like an ingénue. “I think you might be biased, too.”

He arched his eyebrows at her. “Not at all. This is a matter of fact.”

And as they rolled into the large coaching inn and the ostlers darted forward to change the horses, Morwenna realized with a shock that her tragic, damaged, troubled husband had just teased her.