She had expected it to be impressive, but it looked enormous, its grey stone silver in the sunshine, the Marquis’s flag flying from the highest tower.
He did not speak, but his eyes were on her face and after a moment Torilla said in a low voice,
“I shall not be a – brilliant Social hostess.”
“No?” the Marquis questioned.
“I shall not be – sophisticated or – witty.”
“No?” he said again.
She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly troubled.
“I have – nothing to give you but – love.”
He held the reins in one hand and put his arm round her.
“Do you think I want anything else?” he asked, his voice deep and passionate.
His lips touched hers and she felt his fiery desire on them.
Then he whipped up his horses and they moved off at a pace that told her he was impatient for what lay ahead.
