I woke in the morning with a smile on my face and Ren leaning on one elbow, grinning at me. "Creeper," I said. "Were you watching me as I slept?"

"Am I going to have to switch up my seduction? I thought women found being watched sexy?" He pulled me close. "Possession. You're mine. I can't take my eyes off you, even when you're sleeping."

"You've been reading the wrong women's magazines and blogs." I sat up and brushed my hair out of my eyes. "You realize I just paid for a night at one of London's most expensive hotels so my toothbrush could hang out in the bathroom there?"

His grin deepened. "I'll swing you by on my way to work so you can pick up your car and head home."

I held his gaze. "Where's home? I'm not going back to the castle today. I have business in the city." I watched his face closely. He looked pleasantly surprised.

"You'll come back here," he said, too nonchalantly. "I'll give you a key and the security codes for the gate and house."

I relaxed, absurdly pleased.

"How long are you planning to stay?"

"I'm going back to the castle Friday morning." I took a deep breath. "I can't bear…" I almost said to be there without you. But I also meant to hear the village gossip against him. And to feel the distrust about him that seemed to build when I was alone there. The mystery continued.

"I have to go to the office today." He grimaced. "Unavoidable meetings. I could take tomorrow off? We could spend it together? If you're not too busy."

"I'd like that."

"Brilliant." He pulled me close. "Now I need a shower. What do you say we double up so we can get out of here on time?"

Ren dropped me off at the hotel. I picked up my things, checked out, and headed to a meeting with the architects. The meeting was long and fruitful. I left with a set of modified plans for the private quarters of the castle that I'd been planning to renovate for Manly and me. If we were going to have paying guests and turn the castle into a moneymaking enterprise, we'd need our private quarters. But I no longer needed wheelchair ramps and elderly-accessible showers, or any of the things that catered to Manly's needs. I was free to have what I wanted. To a point. Ren would need to approve the plans now. Ren would need to approve everything, including my business ideas. I was paying for them, but the castle was half his.

I had the day to myself. I lunched with Dusty and Smithy. They wanted details of my night with Ren. Wasn't it simply brilliant and hot the way he'd shown up at the club to claim possession of me? It was very caveman, I told them. Which amused them because I really couldn't hide my pleasure at it. Was Ren really as skilled in bed as he was rumored to be? No—if anything, the rumors underplayed his abilities. Previous girlfriends had been selfish, not wanting him to be too much in demand. We had a lovely lunch.

It was three by the time I arrived back at Ren's house, spread my new blueprints for the renovation out on a table to look at later, and deposited my bags in the master suite. He'd told me not to expect him back until six thirty or seven. He could either pick up takeout on the way home or we could go out.

That left me plenty of time to knock around his house. And yes, I had things to look for there. If I were honest with myself, all day I'd been dying to get back to the house and have a good look around. But when I let myself in, the thought of ransacking the place for the diary and clues seemed totally disloyal and underhanded.

I contented myself with having a good look around at the house itself, looking for that touch of Manly Manor that Ren had surely hidden somewhere here—if he ran true to form, and I was sure he had. I was also looking for any traces of another woman. For Cory.

The morning had been drizzly, but by afternoon the mist burned off. The house was a jewel of sunlight. I began my tour by walking around the outside. I wasn't surprised that his home was as brilliant and artistic as any of his most spectacular commercial projects. But I was delighted that it had touches of unexpected whimsy. I found a smiling concrete gargoyle tucked beneath one eave, holding the gutter up.

My heart stopped. I recognized that gargoyle. Except for the smile, it was a replica of a scowling one at Manly Manor. Little bits of the boy Ren? Was that smiling creature guarding against evil spirits Ren's tribute to the castle? If so, I was mildly disappointed. I'd hoped for something more dramatic. I found another one at the opposite corner of the building. There was one at each corner—the same gargoyle, but each with a different expression. One smiled. One cried. One scowled. One was simply stoic. The many faces of Ren?

The house was constructed of concrete and steel beams. And glass. Walls and walls of glass. Some window cleaner must make a tidy annual sum off Ren, maybe even a decent living.

At the thought of all that glass lit up at night, I shivered. People who lived in glass houses shouldn't shag in full view of the neighbors. And they shouldn't throw stones, either. I pictured a paparazzi camera catching us in the moment of ecstasy. I comforted myself that if that had happened, I would have heard about it by now. Or seen it on a newsstand.

To reassure myself, I walked around the front of the house, peering in and taking in every angle until I satisfied myself that Ren was right. There was no way anyone could have seen us, as miraculous as that seemed. The openness was an illusion. His design was brilliant. Although the house was surrounded on all sides by other houses, tucked into what must have formerly been an alley or community area, it was completely private. No prying eyes.

I could only imagine what a project this house must have been to build on such an odd and compact lot. And the more I stood back and studied the house in the light of day, the more I bit my lip and worried. The house was the antithesis of everything the castle was—new, sleek, clean, uncluttered, unfussy, not ornate in the slightest. If this was what Ren preferred, what he loved and felt at home in, how would I ever tempt him to move into Manly Manor? Manly had handed me a seemingly impossible task. I felt unaccountably let down and sad. And worried.

I knew my own heart well enough. I was falling in love with Ren. But how would it ever work? Even the physical distance was against us.

When I was satisfied there was nothing more to see outside, I moved inside and went from room to room. The house was large—five bedrooms plus the master, an open living and dining room, an office, many bathrooms, an exercise room, and a game room. The furniture was modern. The art was mostly modern. The textures and finishes were modern and masculine. The house could use some girling up, in my opinion. A few more pillows here and there wouldn't be a bad thing. The steel beams were exposed inside. Some of the walls were poured concrete with wood board or brick textures formed into the concrete. One would think they'd be cold, but they had a surprising feeling of warmth and were works of art.

It took me a while, but I began to recognize a pattern to the stone brick motifs in some of the poured concrete walls. With a start, I realized this was another homage to the castle. The patterns of the stone walls at Manly Manor were distinctive. These were unmistakably patterned after the castle. Once I saw them, they were obvious. Everywhere I looked, I saw the patterns. My heart raced. I snapped pictures of them to evaluate later. The strange thing was that some of the stones in the pattern had markings on them. The same markings repeated in room after room.

The inside of the house had the same surprising touches of whimsy. Quite by accident, I discovered a hidden storage space behind a bookcase that slid out of the way. And a hidden staircase from the pantry to the upper floor. To my disappointment, neither of them contained the journal he'd taken from me the night we met. Where was this playful side of Ren? I'd seen only glimpses.

I entered every room with trepidation, looking for telltale signs that Cory hadn't completely moved out, fearing her toothbrush lurked just around the corner. Something to taunt me with her importance to Ren, to make me wonder whether it was really all in the past.

To my relief, there was nothing. Not even a stray tube of mascara. Which made me wonder whether Ren had been so done with her that he'd made a point of thoroughly eradicating her presence from the house. I could hope. Or maybe he'd simply hidden her things in one of the hidden spaces I had yet to find.

I finally finished my tour and decided to settle in before Ren got home.

There are two kinds of travelers in this world—those who happily live out of suitcases and those who unpack into hotel drawers, even if they're only planning on spending a night or two. I fall squarely into the latter. And I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea, either, if I had a drawer or two in his house and left some vital things there to mark my territory. I was his wife, after all. I wanted reminders to him. Yes, I'd leave some sexy panties here.

Ren texted back to help myself to the couple of empty drawers in his closet and any closet space I could carve out. Who had empty drawers? My stomach turned over—a man who left room for the woman in his life, that was who. The man who'd just tossed that woman out of it, apparently. But how did he feel about it?

I texted Ren my thanks and asked him to bring home carryout. An evening in with Ren sounded so much better than going out. I told him to surprise me with one of his favorite takeouts. It was a way to get to know him better. It was crazy that I had no idea what his favorite foods were. Or his favorite color. How many children he wanted. I knew next to nothing about him. We needed a real first date so we could ask all the silly questions.

Ren's closet was as large as most people's bedrooms and as immaculate and organized as the rest of his home. It was well lit and smelled delightfully like him and his expensive cologne. Every detail of the closet was well designed, as one would expect from a renowned architect. I stood in the middle of it and looked around. There was something familiar about that closet. The decorative stone patterns on the concrete wall behind the full-length mirror on the wall? Was it repeated from another room? It seemed more familiar, but I couldn't immediately put my finger on it.

It was one of those closets I envied—shoe racks and cubbyholes for sweaters. I'd specifically asked for one in the renovation and establishment of the new private quarters at the castle. The castle in its current state was sadly lacking good closet space.

I quickly filled the empty drawers with my things. And I wasn't above checking them for false bottoms first. Unfortunately, the drawers were solid.

There was a gap on one of the clothes bars. A large gap. A gap that spoke of it recently being emptied. I grabbed my new clothes, ready to fill it and erase any reminder of someone else. As I reached to hang the clothes, I got a closer look at the pattern on the wall. I went completely cold. I was looking at the pattern from the white lady's room. I'd know that pattern anywhere. I'd stared at it too many nights.

I dropped my clothes on the bench in the center of the closet and ran my hands over the stones. I didn't know what possessed me. I went through the entire closet, pushing Ren's clothes aside to get a look at the brick pattern. The closet, the entire closet, was a replica of the white lady's room. At least the walls were. Halfway through the second wall of clothes, I found it: another "brick" marked with numbers.

It was subtle—you had to be looking for them—but there were cuts in the concrete. Another hidden cache? I gave the area a hard push. To my surprise, the carved space popped open, revealing a hidden drawer with a lock. Fingers shaking, I pulled, hoping it wasn't locked. It slid open. I peered in to see what treasure Ren had hid there.

The journal. Right there in front of me.

I looked around guiltily, as if the closet was bugged or had surveillance cameras. Of course it didn't. But I had a guilty conscience. I glanced at my watch. Where had the time gone? I had to work quickly.

I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture of the drawer, the brick pattern, and each page of the journal, and put them into my secure cloud storage to share with the ghost hunters. Then I deleted the pictures from my phone. I couldn't risk Ren seeing them. Still trembling, I returned the journal, closed the drawer, slid the hidden panel back in place, tidied everything up, and hung my clothes in the gap. What was so important about that journal that Ren had hidden it like that?

I heard the garage door opening. Just in time. Ren's home.

I raced down the stairs to meet him. He walked in with a backpack slung over his shoulder, a bag of takeout in his hand, and a bakery box balanced on his arm.

My breath caught at the sight of him. I was startled, again, by the intensity of the sexual tension between us. Maybe I kept expecting it to disappear. Maybe I was afraid of it and where it would lead. Impulsively, I threw my arms around him and kissed him deeply, nearly knocking the baked goods out of his grip. "You smell delicious."

"You must be hungry. I know I am."

"Oh, I am. Desperately."

His grin said everything. Neither of us would be getting much sleep tonight.

I took the box and the takeout bag from him. "What have you brought us?" I opened the bag and took a deep whiff. "Indian food. Yum."

He grinned. "Good. You like spicy?"

"Love it." I carried them to the dining space at the kitchen island while he set down his backpack. "I suppose if I were a good wife, I would have set the table. I didn't want to nose around your kitchen. Is that a good enough excuse for my laziness?"

"Nose all you like."

It was reassuring that he was so supremely confident I wouldn't find anything incriminating. Or maybe he didn't care if I did. I took him at his word and began opening kitchen drawers. "Placemats?"

He pointed and hung his jacket in the closet.

"You see? I could make a complete mess of this pristine place." I found the placemats and set some out. "Has anyone ever actually eaten here? Or, heaven forbid, cooked here? Plates?"

He washed his hands, went to a cupboard, and got the plates. "Yeah, of course." He set the plates out. "I have a meticulous cleaning lady. A real gem. I pay her well to keep her." He went to the wine fridge. "White or red?"

"Red with Indian food?" I had no idea. "So you're not some controlling neat-freak psycho who will insist the canned goods are alphabetized and the towels hung just so? Should I worry about upsetting you by leaving a glass out?"

He laughed as he opened the bottle and poured two glasses. "You have nothing to worry about. As long as you organize your clothes by color and pattern and your socks by thickness."

I relaxed. He was joking. "Liar. I've seen your closet." It was neat, but not color-organized. I set out the flatware.

"I'm really not a monster, Bliss, despite what you've heard." Ren handed me a glass of wine. "The dining table has a better view." He walked over to it. "What are these?" He stared at the plans I'd left out on the table.

"The architectural plans for the private quarter renovation to the castle. Since we'll be having paying guests nearly year-round, we'll need a private apartment. I went to the architect today to request some changes now that I don't need to consider Manly's needs."

Ren skimmed over them. He bent to get a closer look. His brow furrowed. "Do you mind?" He pointed to them.

"Mind?" I was amused. "I'd love your input. The apartment will be your home now too." Did that sound pitiful or pleading? Or simply factual, as I intended? "Though I'm not sure I can afford your professional rates. I hear you're very good." I raised my eyebrows.

He raised his eyebrows back at me. "So this is how you spent your day? Conspiring behind my back with another architect?"

I laughed. "Grab a plate of food. We can inspect them together while we eat." I began opening containers and helping myself.

We filled our plates and sat side by side in front of the blueprints, so close I could feel his heat. I ate and watched him as he studied the plans.

"You're redoing the old east wing?" he said between bites.

I nodded. "Yes. It's been shuttered and unused for all of Manly's life, as you know. Of course, we can't touch the outside because of the historic preservation laws. No more than to restore and repair.

"But the interior is an open canvas. It was a later addition, anyway, and there's not much of architectural or historic interest left there. We have to add a kitchen, modern bathrooms, all of that. We have the necessary permissions. We can do what we like as long as we don't move any foundational walls or significant historical detailing. But given the space, we have plenty of room to do what we need and want.

"The guests, of course, will need and want access to all the main rooms of the castle that Manly has maintained and been living in—the great room, the grand staircase, the main bedrooms above them, the turrets, etc. Even the dungeon, which we'll restore. Let them have those. I had the vision of making our living quarters a beautiful space in our style."

His eyes lit up. "Good choice. Exactly what I would do. I've always believed the east wing has great potential. If you need private quarters, and you do, it's the place."

I relaxed. "I'm glad you think so." I paused. "Don't keep me in agony. What do you think of what we have?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Not your style?" I asked, knowing the answer before I asked. I gestured around, pointing to what he obviously liked.

He nodded. "The bones of your plans are good enough. But if you moved this wall…"

He began pointing things out that he thought could be improved, listening to me as I talked about my vision and explained some of my frustrations with Manly's tastes. Making suggestions—gently, really, considering. Tiny improvements that added beauty and functionality in unexpected ways. Ren's suggestions came effortlessly. His passion for his work shone on his face and in his actions. It was surprising—to both of us, I thought—that we wanted the same things for the space and our tastes weren't too far apart.

I nodded. "Mark up your changes. I'll never remember them all."

He got up and grabbed a mechanical pencil and pen. "You're sure? What I'm suggesting is very modern."

"I love what you're doing," I said. "I thought our architect was good. But the changes you're suggesting are brilliant. And much more in line with what I want. Have at it. Change what you want. Start from scratch, if you like. It will be your home as much as mine."

The unspoken truth hung between us. For a year, at least. Then it might be his alone. Or mine. I wasn't an ungenerous person. The castle was his ancestral family home. I was only an interloper. His tastes should take precedence.

I put a hand on his arm. "The look of the place will all come down to the fixtures, the appliances, that sort of thing, of course. Nothing has been ordered yet. I have a designer. We could all shop for them together?"

He pulled my head to his shoulder. "I'd enjoy that. Your architect won't be happy."

"My architect is paid to do what makes me happy," I said. "What makes us happy. Though I suppose having an architect for a client is no picnic."

"No," Ren said dryly, and laughed.

"Ren, so you know, I had no idea you were an architect until we met. Manly never mentioned it. He barely talked about you at all, except to express his displeasure at your disregard for the inheritance, the castle, and the title you were slated to inherit. I was stunned when his last wishes were for us to marry." My pulse sped up. "Why didn't Manly hire you to do any of the renovations?"

"My specialty is commercial properties." His voice was hard.

I pulled my head from his shoulder and sat up straight. "Really? That's all? Look, I had affection for Manly. But we both know how manipulative he could be. Our marriage is proof enough of that. Knowing Manly, he would have liked to use the project as a way to build your love for the castle. Even schemed to use it. In case, you know, Manly and I couldn't make an heir in time to disinherit you," I teased.

Ren's expression became soft. "He asked. I turned him down. Uncle's taste and mine are, were, irreconcilable. Working with each other would only have led to greater distance between us."

I didn't believe Ren was telling the whole truth, only part of it. "But you'll work with me?"

He took my shoulders. "Naturally. You're my wife."

"And you can bend me to your will?"

His gaze dropped to my chest. He took my breasts in his hands. "More accurately, you can bend me to yours."