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I could see how slim he was through the waist and hips. The skin exposed by his open shirt collar was faintly golden, and the crisp hairs on his bare forearms were the same color as the hair on his head.
    I felt almost overpowered by the sheer masculine force of him and had to exert all my willpower not to betray myself by stepping back. My fingers tightened around the paint stirrer.
    Savile slowly looked around the room, taking in the fresh white paint on the moldings, the two windows, and the mantelpiece. Finally his eyes settled on my face. “I’ll take the ladder and start painting the upper part of the walls,” he said. “Why don’t you begin to outline the window frames, Mrs. Saunders.”
    I replied in a voice that was supposed to sound repressive but unfortunately just sounded breathless, “I rather thought you were working for me, my lord.”
    His eyes crinkled faintly in amusement. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. What would you like me to do?”
    “Oh, go ahead and paint the upper walls,” I said irritably, and was relieved to hear that my voice sounded normal once more. “You have a longer reach than I have.”
    “Such was my reasoning,” he returned with that faint amusement I found so disconcerting.
    I set my lips and handed him the smock I had brought for him. As soon as he slid one arm into it, it became obvious that it was not going to fit across his shoulders.
    “I shall be fine without it,” he said, stripping the smock off and handing it back to me. “Now, if I can just pour a little of this splendid paint into another bucket, I shall be ready to start.”
    I went to fetch the second bucket, he poured the paint, and we began work.
    Fifteen minutes or so went by in silence. I was carefully outlining the first window in blue, and thinking about how I was going to break the news to Nicky that I would be leaving him for a few days, when I was struck by another uncomfortable thought.
    I turned to look up at the earl on the ladder. “My lord,” I said, addressing his broad back, “it has just occurred to me that you could not have had an opportunity to inform your wife that you would be bringing me to Savile Castle. What if she… I mean, suppose she—
    I broke off, scowling, unable to find a tactful way to say that perhaps Lady Savile would not find Mrs. Abigail Saunders a respectable enough person to be welcomed into her home.
    The earl did not stop painting as he answered, “Since I am not married, Mrs. Saunders, there is no reason to concern yourself with my wife’s supposed sensibilities. I can assure you that my housekeeper is perfectly prepared to welcome any guests I might suddenly introduce.”
    “I see,” I said. But as I turned back to my window I was conscious of feeling surprised that a man who bore such an ancient title and lineage was not yet married.
    * * * *
    The morning went by in relative silence as we worked carefully to smooth the fresh blue paint over the cream color that I had originally painted the room five years before. While I painted, I cudgeled my brain for some way to explain to Nicky that, once the weather cleared, I would be going away with the Earl of Savile.
    At the end of two hours I still had not found an answer. I had finished outlining the two windows, however, and had begun to paint carefully along the molding at the edge of the floor. When I looked up to inspect Savile’s work, I had to confess that he had gotten much farther than I ever would have in the same amount of time. He had, in fact, managed to finish the top third of two of the walls and was a quarter of the way across the third wall.
    The quiet concentration of our work had been broken only twice—both times by Nicky, who had come in from his bedroom next door with some questions about his schoolwork. One of the questions I had known the answer to, the other I had not.
    “Persepolis was the capital of Persia,” Savile had informed us from the heights of his ladder.
    “But what was Susa