“No,” Sophie said hastily. “We couldn’t find an appropriate woman with whom I could practice my Dutch….”

“Is that the end?”

“Are you angry?” Her eyes searched her husband’s anxiously.

He looked genuinely surprised. “Why should I be angry, Sophie my love? I love to travel; you are brilliant at speaking foreign languages. You are a marvel and I consider myself damned lucky. I’m particularly glad you speak Turkish!”

Sophie looked at him, her eyes huge with an unspoken question.

“Didn’t you know that I would take you with me?”

She shook her head.

“I’m not happy away from you,” Patrick said, his eyes truly serious now. “I don’t want to ever sleep alone again. And that means that we are traveling to the Ottoman Empire next month … together.”

“Oh, Patrick,” Sophie said “That will be wonderful.”

“Good,” he replied, rather absentmindedly. His hands were wandering up and down her body in a very disturbing fashion.

Sophie grabbed his wrists. “You don’t mind that I … I speak all these languages and you don’t?”

Patrick’s eyes were making sinful promises. He bent over and licked the corner of her mouth with tantalizing slowness.

“You have the sweetest lips,” he said huskily. And then: “I don’t care what language you speak to me, Sophie mine. As long—”

“As long?” she said teasingly.

“As long as you let me have my way with you morning, noon, and night.”

“That’s all?”

“And you have to love me forever.”

“I suppose so.” She laughed.

“And you have to forgive me for not explaining my silences.”

She propped herself up on one elbow. “I didn’t speak to you either. I was afraid. I thought it was worth anything to avoid the kind of bitter fights my parents had. But perhaps a civilized silence is just as bad.”

Patrick nodded. “The minute you start tearing off on one of those weekly jaunts with Braddon, you will find just how noisy I can be.”

Sophie’s eyes were half solemn, half merry. “And if you don’t come home until four in the morning, I shall turn into a termagant and throw the chamber pot at you.”

“I have one more requirement,” Patrick whispered. “You have to give me at least five children.”

For an instant she couldn’t speak. Her eyes filled with tears. “Do you really mean it, Patrick?”

“I’m going to be terrified,” Patrick said frankly. “I shall probably behave like a regular hellion, Sophie. But I … I loved little Frances the moment I saw her. I think we should have another child.

“Silly wife,” he muttered as Sophie’s tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. His eyes took on a wicked glint. “I suppose I should try to take your mind off your troubles.” Gently he kissed away her tears, but his hand took an altogether less innocent path, running up the softness of her inner leg.