Oh, how she wanted to.

She did not reply, instead wrapping her arms tightly around him. It was all she could give him right now. She let him hold her for a long time, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her, the warmth of his chest against her cheek. For a moment, she imagined that this was a different kind of wedding day. That they had married for any reason but the one for which they had married.

That they had married for love.

She pulled back at the thought, and he watched as she smoothed her skirts and looked anywhere but at him. “Isabel.” At the sound of her name on his lips, soft and lush, she looked up and met his eyes—saw the emotion there. “I am sorry you did not have the kind of wedding of which you dreamed. I wish we could have done it another way, with a church … and a dress … and your girls.”

She shook her head, emotion making it difficult for her to speak.

He took her hand. “We left out an important part of the ceremony this morning. I assume the vicar thought that we could not fulfill its requirements, so he skipped over it.”

Confusion marred her brow. “I don’t understand.”

He opened his hand, revealing a simple gold band that lay in his palm, “It’s not what you deserve—I woke the first jeweler I saw last night in York. He did not have much of a selection. The first chance I get, I shall buy you something gorgeous. With rubies. I like you in red.”

He spoke quickly, as though she might refuse him if he gave her the opportunity to speak. It was fine, though. She did not want to interrupt. Taking her hand, he placed the ring on her finger. With a crooked smile, he said, “I do not remember the exact words …”

She shook her head. “Neither do I.”

“Good.” He took a deep breath. “I am not perfect, and I realize that I have a long way to go to earning your trust once more. But I want you to know that I am extraordinarily happy that you are my wife. And I shall do my very best to make you an excellent husband. Let this ring bear the proof of my words.”

He cupped her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the stray tears that fell at the words. “Don’t cry, darling.” He sipped at her lips in soft, lingering kisses, so tender and caring that, for a moment, she forgot that they had married for a host of wrong reasons.

He lifted his head and met her eyes once more, and said, “For the rest of the afternoon … for today … can we forget everything else? Can we simply have a wedding day? ”

He was buying them a day before they had to remember all those wrong reasons.

Perhaps to discover a right reason.

And, God help her, she wanted it.

She nodded. “I think that is an excellent idea.”

He grinned and offered her his arm. When she took it, he said, “The day is yours, Lady Nicholas. What shall you do with it?”

Lady Nicholas.

What a strange thing to be this new, different person. Isabel played the name over in her head, her earlier concern resurfacing. Who was Lady Nicholas? What had become of Lady Isabel?

“Isabel?” Nick’s question interrupted her thoughts.

Tomorrow. She would worry about Lady Isabel tomorrow.

She smiled. “I should like to show you the Park.”

Within minutes, they were on his horse, Isabel seated in front of him, clinging to him as he trotted the gray across the heath toward the house. As they traveled, Isabel pointed out places that had mattered to her as a child—the copse of trees where she had hidden whenever she wanted to get away, the pond where she had learned to swim, the crumbled remains of the old keep where she had pretended to be a princess.

“A princess?”

She kept her eyes on the stone structure, set on the highest point of the property. “Yes, well, pretending to be a queen seemed too much. A girl must know her limitations.”

He laughed, and stopped the horse. “Shall we tour your castle, Your Highness?”

She looked back at him, noting the teasing interest in his eyes. “By all means.”

He lifted her down in an instant, offering her his hand and leading the way up the little hill to the piles of rubble that were left. Isabel took the lead then, running her hands across the worn stones. “It’s been years since I’ve been up here.”

Nick gave her room to explore, leaning against a low stone wall that marked a room of the long-destroyed building, watching as she wandered through the crumbled pillars. “Tell me what you used to pretend.”

She smiled to herself. “The same things all little girls pretend, I would think …”

"I did not have the privilege of knowing many little girls,” he said. “Elaborate, if you please.”

She paused at a stone archway that might have been a window long ago. Looking out to the bold, sweeping landscape beyond, she answered. “Oh, that I was a princess in a tower, waiting for my knight … perhaps I was under a magic spell, or guarded by an evil dragon, or something equally fantastic. But it was not always so elaborate; sometimes I just came here to …” She turned, and noticed that he had disappeared from his place.

“Came here to …?” He was at the other side of the archway now, leaning his forearms on the wide stone wall. She laughed in surprise at the picture he made, mussed sable hair and crooked grin in his formal wedding attire.

She matched his pose, her arms touching his on the sill. “Came here to imagine what my future might be.”

“And what was that? ”

She looked away. “The normal things, I suppose … marriage, children … I certainly was not planning for Minerva House.” She paused, thinking for a long time. “It is funny how those things push their way into little girls’ dreams. I did not have a very good example of a marriage. I did not have proof that such a thing was worth having. And yet …” The words trailed off.