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breathlessness?
    The thought that she had witnessed his raw anger left him vulnerable. If he were to convince her of his determination to keep them apart, he needed to maintain a cool demeanor. He could not succumb to his baser needs. She must never know how much his heart yearned to take her in his arms and make love to her as he used to.
    When he had been whole.
    How much longer could he expect Marion to remain under his roof given the restraints he’d placed on her? Knowing his wife as he did, she would not be moving out anytime soon.
    “My lord, there is a note here from Lord Weatherby. He wishes to hold a dinner in your honor. From what he says, he apparently learned from Her Grace, the Duchess of Manchester, that you and Lady Tunstall have rented this house and are settled in the neighborhood.”
    Jolted back to his present surroundings by Landers’s voice, he said, “Thank his lordship for his kind offer, but refuse.”
    “Refuse?”
    “Is that not what I just said?”
    “But what shall I say?”
    “Think of something, Landers. That is what I pay you for, is it not?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Good heavens, he was turning into a grouch. The simple life he’d planned for himself when he had left the hospital in Lisbon was crumbling about his ears. He didn’t want a social life. Didn’t want to be “honored” by his neighbors. And most of all, he didn’t want a desirable, determined wife gawking at him while he pounded on his punching bag like a madman.
    The woman was turning him into someone he no longer recognized. She had entered his home, taken over his staff, chased off his companion, and left her mesmerizing scent everywhere in the blasted house. He heard her laughter no matter how many doors he closed.
    “That will be all for today, Landers.” No point in continuing, since he couldn’t keep his mind focused long enough to make it worthwhile. “Please have Mason send Ellis to me.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    Tristan leaned back and linked his fingers across his middle as Landers shuffled papers, then took his leave.
    “You wished to see me?” Ellis entered the study moments after the front door closed, announcing Landers’s departure.
    “Yes. I feel the need for some exercise.”
    …
    Marion removed her hat and gloves and handed them to Mason. “Is his lordship in his study?”
    “No, my lady. He has gone out with Ellis.”
    Her eyebrows rose. “Indeed. Do you know where they went? Did they take the carriage?”
    “No, my lady. I believe they are out on the archery field.”
    Taken aback by this news, she asked, “And will you be so kind as to direct me to the archery field?”
    After Mason’s brief directions, she headed toward the rear door, startling the kitchen staff as she hurried through, then descended the back stairs. The crisp autumn air greeted her, along with the pungent scent of apples as she passed through the orchard. She slowed her pace, then stopped to pick a ripe piece of fruit from a low-hanging branch.
    Far off in the distance, to her left, were two men. She turned slightly and followed a footpath in that direction, enjoying the crunchy sweetness of the apple as she walked.
    The closer she came to the two men, the more confused her thoughts. It appeared that Tristan was actually shooting arrows at a target. How in heaven’s name could a blind man shoot arrows?
    Ellis stood behind and to the right of Tristan. In front of her husband was a brace of some sort that was anchored into the ground. It consisted of two strong pieces of wood, fastened together to form a large cross. Tristan rested his elbow where the two pieces joined, which created a sighting for him.
    As she watched, he let fly an arrow that landed with a thump onto the target some distance away.
    “Very good, my lord. About two more inches to the left.”
    Tristan backed up and reloaded his bow, aligning his feet with a board on the ground which apparently kept him facing the correct way. After careful consideration,