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me?”
    Papa came out a grand winner, ridding himself of his biggest liability while retaining his beloved land .
    Stephen moved to the door.
    “I remembered seeing you from the holiday ball last Christmas. You reminded me of a small elf.”
    An elf. How quaint.
    “Still you accepted me as payment?”
    “Why not?” His glance strayed around the room and came back to rest on her resentful expression. “These dark halls could use an elf to liven them. I do not need more land, and I can use a wife.”
    Use. He could use a wife. How forthright of him.
    The door closed behind him.
    * * * *
    Stephen frowned as he saddled the giant prancing horse. Why had he made such a remark to that sad-faced child last night? An elfin face with haunted blue eyes—she was that, indeed, but his light words did not make her feel better. If anything, her face twisted as though she might cry. Perchance she would feel better if she did cry. Would not he— taken from everything he loved and was familiar with—taken by a strange man who planned to marry you to settle a debt?
    Many men took advantage of trades and debts to find a wife, sometimes to rid themselves of one. It didn't make him feel better knowing the child in his house did not hold him in high esteem. It did not matter. She was not required to do so. He shook himself to remove the disapproval he felt over his own decision.
    Stephen yanked on the strap beneath the horse's solid chest, and the steed snorted and rolled his eyes.
    “Sorry,” he said. He adjusted the strap to a more comfortable tightness, and then threw a long leg across the saddle.
    “Now, boy,” he said, flipped the reins lightly this time to set the horse off in a slow trot.
    Tor, a light chestnut, carried him easily, taking the trail they often rode over to the cliffs, down the straggly path slanting to the water. Along the narrow beach of pebble-strewn sand, through the mud where water stood at high tide, around the sharp jutting edge of Cloud Reef, so named because low clouds obscured its jagged edge during winter storms.
    His mind stayed on Rebecca. She was a mistake. He should have given Sir Oliver back his notes and escaped with the knowledge he had best be more careful the next time he gambled. He could satisfy his body's demands with more experienced women and come home alone without the burden and worry of a wife.
    This was certainly the worst decision of his life, and he wondered at the solution he had chosen.
    So engrossed in his thoughts, he took no notice of the low-hanging clouds until they were almost close enough to touch. He swore as rain suddenly pelted him.
    * * * *
    There was no sun when she awoke. Instead, a soft rain patted against the shutters. She pulled the coverlet with her, wrapping it around her nude body, and went across the room to open the door leading into the hall. Such quiet. She did not even hear animal noises as she did at Grinwold.
    “Good day, my lady,” Malvina said as she appeared at the top of the stairs. “Did you sleep well?”
    Rebecca backed into the bedroom and sat on the small rocking chair near the bed. Malvina placed a tray across her knees and removed the snowy cloth from over the dishes. There were muffins and orange jam, a coddled egg, gruel, a slice of meat, and warm goat's milk.
    Sir Stephen will be angry if this does not stay in my belly, Rebecca thought as she took the first bite. Then the second. Then a drink of milk. Her stomach trembled a bit, and then settled. She ate slowly.
    “Where is Sir Stephen?”
    Malvina was making the bed, eyeing her new mistress as she picked at the plate of food.
    “He has gone to the village market place. He said you are to rest until he returns in the afternoon.”
    “I could have gone with him.”
    Malvina straightened. “You have not the proper clothing to go anywhere.”
    “Really?”
    Rebecca placed her near-empty tray on the bedside table and stood up. “Then I suggest you get me some of your clothing to wear. I