"Am I?" Matt raised a brow. "Why is that?"

"You let me read all this"-he waved at the journal-"but I know full well you will never allow me to publish it." He heaved a sigh of frustration. "You are the worst sort of tease, Matt."

Matt chuckled. "My apologies."

"Why did you let me read it at all?"

"Well, I did write it for you," Matt said lightly. He paused for a moment, then met Ephraim's gaze. "You are my closest friend and the only one who knows everything about Tatiana and myself. I seem to need someone to talk with about all this."

"Very well," Ephraim said gruffly. "But it is only because we are friends that I will overlook your taunting me with something my readers would salivate over and make me a wealthy man in the process." He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands. "Although, while it would certainly boost circulation, I daresay no one would like the ending."

"The ending does reek."

"So..." Ephraim drew the word out slowly. "What do you plan on doing about it?"

"Well, I thought I'd rewrite it. Or add an epilogue." Matt settled back in his chair and wished he had thought to bring cigars. "It's been more than six weeks since she left. I spent the first two weeks drinking at a steady rate here in London."

"Here?" Ephraim huffed with annoyance. "I wasn't even aware you were back."

"Apologies, old man. My brother did the honors with me this time. At any rate, two weeks," he said pointedly. "That's about how long it would take her to travel from here to Avalonia. I spent the next two weeks at Weston Manor, still drinking, but not nearly as much, and feeling extremely sorry for myself. And thinking about"-he paused-"my wife every minute of every day. Wondering how she was faring. If she'd delivered the Heavens to the great acclaim of her family and people. If indeed she was still my wife at all or if she'd had her father nullify our marriage. "And I've spent the last two weeks coming to the realization that I cannot live my life without her." Ephraim studied him for a long moment. "And?" "And." Matt spread his hands in a wide gesture of inevitability. "I'm going to Avalonia. I'm going to be the consort of a princess, if that is what's necessary to have the woman I love in my life." "Then you were wrong to send her away?" "No." Matt got to his feet and paced before the desk, trying to pull his thoughts into words. "That was the best thing I have ever done. I couldn't ask her to sacrifice her life when I was unwilling to sacrifice mine."

"And now you're willing to sacrifice yours?"

"Yes, actually, I am." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I have the means now to do whatever I wish. I do not intend to be merely the husband of a princess. Surely I can find something useful in government or commerce." He grinned. "I could become the minister of the fleet."

Ephraim's brow furrowed. "I believe Avalonia is landlocked. It has no fleet."

"Then I'll build a fleet. Of balloons, perhaps. Or I'll find a place to invent odd, useless devices like

systems to heat air with oil and brandy. Or I'll learn all I can about the distilling of spirits and dedicate the rest of my life to the improvement of Avalonian brandy. God knows it could use improving."

"And it won't bother you? Being nothing more than a husband?"

"Certainly it will bother me, but being without her bothers me more. Frankly, Ephraim, I don't know that

I can do this. She told me once that she thought it would take a man of extraordinary strength to survive being a spouse to royalty. She thought I could manage it. But"-he met the other man's gaze-"she never asked me."

"Of course, you never asked her to give up her crown either."

"No, I didn't."

"Perhaps for the same reasons."

"I hope so." Matt paused. "She might well hate me, you know. I said some pretty vile things to her."

Ephraim shrugged. "You'll have to grovel. Apologize profusely. Maybe even beg. Women love all that."

"How would you know? I thought you lived vicariously through me."

"I have picked up a few pointers along the way. Women can be quite forgiving if one is repentant

enough. Of course, I've never dealt with a princess." He frowned. "She wouldn't have you shot, would she?"

Matt laughed. "There's a definite possibility."

"I still can't believe you are going through with this." Ephraim shook his head. "Are you sure you're not making a mistake?"

"No, I'm not sure about anything beyond how I feel about her. I have had six long weeks to think about this, and following her now may well be one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Second only to not going after her the first time she left me. But Ephraim"-he picked up the journal and stared at it-"she was willing to give up the life she's known for me. Can I do any less for her?"

Ephraim studied him for a long moment. "You were wrong, Matt. You have quite a way with words. Why, if I were a woman, I'd fall right into your arms."

Matt laughed and tossed the book back onto the desk. "Then we can only thank God you're not. I prefer my women substantially more attractive, with considerably less facial hair than you."

"You always have had discriminating taste. Now"-he picked up the journal-"what am I supposed to do with this?"

"Save it for the future. Perhaps I'll let you publish it someday."

Ephraim's face lit and Matt grinned. "The day when the sign overhead saysCadwallenderandSons Weekly World Messenger."

"I shall count the minutes," Ephraim said wryly, then opened a drawer and tossed the journal inside. "I nearly forgot about this." He pulled out a letter and handed it to Matt.

"What's that?" Matt scanned it quickly.

"It's from the consortium sponsoring the design competition you were supposed to take part in. They pulled out. Apparently they've decided to put their money into steam power. Seems they think there's more of a future in steam than in flight." Ephraim took the paper back and tossed it into the drawer. "Can't say I blame them."

They chatted for a few more minutes, then Ephraim stood and grasped Matt's hand. "When do you leave?"

"In the morning. Right now I am headed to my workshop and the cottage. I have not been there for some time, and I want to clean out the rest of my things, as I'm relinquishing the lease. Most of what I've left is worthless, but there are some things I want to take with me."

"For that fleet of Avalonian aerostats you'll be building?" Ephraim grinned.

"Of course."

Ephraim laughed, then sobered. His gaze met Matt's. "I do wish you luck, old friend."

"I shall certainly need it." Matt smiled ruefully. "She is my fate, Ephraim. I just pray I can convince her."

There wasn't as much here as he'd thought.

Matt glanced around the stables. He'd always chosen tools and supplies sparingly, his choices limited by his budget. Most of his work things had been transported with the balloon to Effington Hall and then on to Weston Manor. He hadn't accumulated much in recent years. What few personal possessions he had now resided in a bag he'd dropped by the stable door.

He wondered if he shouldn't be a bit melancholy at the realization that he had nothing of worth to show for his life thus far. Still, between the aerostats and naval service, he'd gained knowledge and maturity and confidence in the ten years since he'd left home. And he'd thoroughly enjoyed life in the process. Regardless of what the future held, he looked forward to it.

He moved to the table where he'd spent long hours tinkering with various mechanisms, toying with odd ideas. It struck him that he did rather like working with his hands, and if he did nothing else in Avalonia perhaps he could put that skill to use. After all, as the husband to the princess, his official duties would probably be minimal.

Could he indeed carve out a life for himself at her court? Or in her country? He ran his fingers idly along the edge of the table. He didn't know, but he had to try. And more, he had to succeed.

"Did you miss me?" Tatiana's voice sounded behind him.

His heart thudded and he forced a light note to his voice. "I scarce noticed you were gone."

"You are a bad liar and a truly annoying man, Matthew Weston." Her tone was casual, as matter-of-fact as a discussion on the quality of the roads outside his door.

"Those are my finer qualities." He drew a steadying breath and turned to face her.

She meandered into the stables and glanced around curiously, as if there were nothing of any significance between them. As if they had parted yesterday and under the most pleasant of terms. As if they barely knew one another.

"Why are you here?"

"I just told you." She prowled in a wide circle around him, exhibiting an unlikely interest in the stalls and structure of the stable, and he was forced to turn with her movement. "You are an exceptionally poor liar."

"I think we've established that," he said cautiously. "It's not necessary to repeat it."

"It bears repeating." She paused to consider him. He noted she kept the table between them. A barrier of sorts, but for whose protection? He had no idea what she was thinking. What she wanted. It could well be she was here to crush his hopes, destroy him as thoroughly as he had hurt her. He couldn't blame her. He well understood that particular desire and recognized the irony.

Her words were slow and measured. "I have had a great deal of time to think since we last spoke."

"About that, I want to-"

"Stop," she said sharply, and he thought he heard a slight tremble in her voice. "It is my turn to say what has to be said. You had your say six weeks ago."

"Six weeks and four days, to be precise."

She stared suspiciously at him for a moment, as if she didn't believe he had kept track. "The first two

weeks after you... afterI left, I slept, for the most part. Travel and all that." "Of course." He held his breath. "And then?" "Then, when I reached home, it was decided it would be best if the disappearance of the jewels and their recovery was not made public. Any claim Valentina might make could never be substantiated. The

Heavens will be reset in a new gold cuff and no one will be the wiser as to their disappearance." "No one will be the wiser?" Anger on her behalf surged through him. "That's bloody unfair. You found the blasted things. You risked your life, and mine too, for that matter. You should get the credit for their return. You should be hailed as a hero. They should parade you through the streets on their shoulders."

"I would not know what to wear," she murmured, her eyes wide with surprise.

"It's what you are, you know. A hero. Or rather heroine."

She swallowed hard. "Thank you."

He shook his head. "You are as brave as you are lovely, and any country worth its salt should recognize

that and treat you accordingly."

"I did not realize you felt so strongly about it. You scarcely seemed to notice the importance of my quest." "Yes, well, I can be something of an idiot." "Indeed you can." She considered him carefully. "An annoying idiot, if I recall." "Regardless, I still think you should have received recognition for what you've done." "I did not do it for recognition." "I know, I know." He huffed a short breath. "You did it out of a sense of duty to your position.

Responsibility to your country and all that." "Of course, that was part of it." She paused, choosing her words with care. "But I told you once before, I did it for you as well." "For me?" He furrowed his brow. "You mean what you said about earning your freedom?" "Exactly. Now, however"-she shook her head-"I have discovered I did not really do it for you at all.

You were the impetus, the excuse, but in truth, I did it for myself." "I see." He wasn't sure he completely understood, but it scarcely mattered. She was here, and that might well be enough. He forced an offhand manner, as if he didn't care if she'd given up her title or not. "And did you then claim your freedom?"

"I have discovered an odd thing about freedom, and about royal titles as well. Freedom is relative and very much a state of mind. An attitude.

"As for my title, one may abdicate power or the throne, but, at least in my country, one is born to a title and retains it always. Sophia was a princess all of her life, as is Natasha, even if neither of them choose to use the designation. And it appears I will always be a princess."

"And will you choose to use the designation?"

"I have not yet decided." She studied him for a moment, biting her lower lip. His stomach clenched. "I should finish my story."

"Of course." He forced himself to be patient. It was next to impossible. He wanted to know why she was here and if she was still his wife. He wanted to beg her forgiveness, plead for her understanding. He wanted to hold her in his arms, in his bed, in his heart. Instead, he waited.

"After my father and my brother and I had agreed on the fate of the Heavens, it was time to decide my fate. No, that's not precisely true, it was time for me to decide my fate." Her fingers picked at a rough gash on the table. "I told them about you, that we were wed. And I further told them"-her gaze rose to his-"that I had every intention of remaining married to you."

Even in the dim light he could see the determined spark in her eye. If she was at all tentative or apprehensive a moment ago, there was no sign of it now. Giddy relief washed through him and he wanted to grin like the idiot he had admitted to being.

"I noted your bag by the door." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you returning to Weston Manor?"

"Not at the moment." He forced a casual note to his voice. "I've heard Avalonia is nice this time of year. I thought I might visit."

"Why?"

"It seems Avalonia is where my wife is." His gaze met hers. "Where my heart is."

"I see." She shook her head. "But I believe your wife would never allow you to be placed in the position her first husband was in."

He gritted his teeth. "I believe my wife needs to understand I am not her first husband. I am nothing like her first husband and I am tired of her thinking, for so much as a moment, that I could be." He planted his palms on the table and leaned forward. "Furthermore, I have no intention of following in the footsteps of her first husband."

"And how would your wife know that?" She mimicked his stance and glared. "Did you not tell her that all you had shared was meaningless? That she was great fun but you never should have married her? And that you were only interested in sharing her bed?"

"Of course. I said all that and more. But..." He searched for the right words, then threw up his hands in frustration. "I was lying!"

"Why did you have to choose that moment to do it so well?"

"Because I had to make you believe me! Because I couldn't let you give up your life for me!"