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Julian's property was every bit as wonderful as Aurora's cursory inspection had promised. Then again, this was the first time she was able to view her new home in the daylight. The grounds were modest, with but a small garden and several acres of manicured lawn surrounding the stone manor. But the view was spectacular even from the drive: the cliffs towering in the background, the waters of the Channel stretching below as far as the eye could see.
"Can we walk a bit before we go in?" Aurora demanded, her eyes sparkling as the carriage came to a halt.
"Of course."
The words were scarcely out of Julian's mouth when Aurora flung open the carriage door and leapt out, nearly knocking down one stunned footman in the process.
Chuckling, Julian joined her, issuing a few instructions to his driver and footmen before capturing Aurora's arm, guiding her precisely where she wanted to go: down the tiny winding path that led to the water.
When they reached the sandy strip along the shore, Aurora rushed forward, nearly giddy with excitement. "It's everything you said and more," she declared, strolling to the water's edge where the waves of the Channel broke gracefully, drenching her slippers and the hem of her gown with their foam. "The cliffs above us, the water below—it's a legend-seeker's dream."
"I thought you'd like it." Julian grinned, clearly enjoying her exuberant reception.
"Like it? I love it!" Impatiently Aurora raised her skirts and wrung out the wet muslin.
"I don't think that will help. The gown is ruined."
Aurora laughed, letting the soggy material droop to the sand. "True. Then again, it was ruined hours ago—by you."
"Is that a complaint?" Julian shot her a thoroughly smug look.
"No, you arrogant man, that was a sated assessment." She spun about, shading her eyes so she could study the manor, its ivy-covered walls angling sharply into a second wing that sloped backward toward the shelter of the cliffs. "The house is larger than I originally thought."
"Too large?" Julian wrapped his arms about her from behind.
"No. Perfect."
"Good. Then, would you like to go inside and meet the staff?" He nuzzled her neck. "Or shall I impede this tour as I did the last—by carrying you up to bed?"
"Not this time." Aurora laughed, stepping out of his embrace. "As it is, your servants have doubtless labeled me a wanton. What would they think of a repeat performance of last time—and in broad daylight, no less?"
"I don't care what they'd think. Do you?"
Aurora sobered. "You know I don't. But I would like to finish our tour." Pausing, she rubbed the folds of her damp gown between her fingers, trying to explain something that was as foreign to her as it was to her husband, and hoping that by doing so she wouldn't further unnerve him. Then again, her bloody candor would allow nothing shy of the truth. So she might as well plunge right in and take her chances. "Julian, in many ways this is my first real home. Pembourne was more like a prison for me, at least until Courtney arrived. Even then, my affinity was for her and Slayde, not the house. I know I claimed not to require roots—but perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps
I just required a different kind of roots, the kind I never knew existed—until now. Is that notion totally unfathomable? Or, if not unfathomable, then untenable?"
Julian's gaze narrowed, tiny flames darting through the topaz depths. "No. That notion is neither unfathomable nor untenable." He threaded his fingers through her hair. "I'd be delighted to acquaint you with your new home—but only if you vow not to become too attached to it. Because what is both unfathomable and untenable is the thought of doing without you for months on end. I can scarcely take my hands off you long enough to show you around. So don't change your mind about traveling abroad with me."
Aurora's throat tightened at what was as close to an admission of need as Julian had allowed himself thus far. "I won't. I couldn't." She lay her palm against her husband's jaw. "I'd be as empty as you would."
He turned his lips into her palm, then caught her fingers in his. "Come, soleil. Meet your staff."
Julian's staff was as unconventional as he—from Daniels, the stout ununiformed butler, to Hadrigin, Julian's bearded and brawny valet, who was not only not uniformed but was addressed by the other servants as 'Gin'—a name Aurora suspected had little to do with the abbreviated form of his surname. Then there were the other two dozen or so informally dressed men and women who greeted her not with customary bows, but with broad grins and unaffected—though no less warm and respectful—hellos.
"Well?" Julian asked, eyes twinkling, when they'd made their way through the rustic house and were alone in his bedchamber. "What do you think of the residents of Merlin Manor?"
Aurora's brows arched. "'Merlin Manor'?"
"Of course." Julian's teeth gleamed. "Aren't all noblemen and their estates known by the same name?"
"Indeed they are." Aurora couldn't control her laughter. "Tell me, is it my imagination, or are all your servants just a bit unconventional? And while we're on the subject, just how did Gin get his name?"
"They're as unconventional as I—well, maybe a bit more so," Julian conceded. "As for Gin, not only can he tie a wicked cravat, he can toss off five measures of his namesake beforehand—and still complete his task with steady fingers."
"That's quite a feat." Aurora wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "Did his references state as such? Or did you simply ask his previous employer?"
"Neither." Julian's smile vanished, his offhanded tone ringing with a fine underlying tension. "I met him during my travels. His employer was a filthy pirate who was about to run Gin through for releasing a tavern maid rather than dragging her back to the ship for mutual enjoyment. I convinced the murderous bastard he could do without both the girl and Gin."
