AS his voice died away the complete quiet of the gardens enveloped them once again. She had not taken her eyes from his face as he had been speaking and, as he fell silent, she continued to watch him. She saw his eyes lift from vague contemplation of his loosely clasped hands to gaze into the darkness.

Marguerite's heart was overflowing with tenderness for him, and the lonely child he had been. A part of her was also stirred at the thought that this was proof, as if she needed it, that he truly trusted her, had forgiven her for her betrayal. She moved nearer to him and put her arms around him, holding him.

As if his mind had been relieved of a burden, Percy sighed, and rested his head on her shoulder. He took a deep breath, and felt the remains of his tension trickle away into the darkness which surrounded them.

Only a moment ago he had been drained of all emotion but with each breath he inhaled her intoxicating fragrance, and he felt more alive. Every particle of his being was brought into tingling, vital awareness by her very presence.

Pulling away from her slightly, he stood, drawing her up with him. His eyes drank in her beauty, rendered more exquisite than ever in the moonlight. Gently he caressed her cheek with his hand. Her eyes closed and she lifted her face in mute invitation.

Slowly, they drifted together and their lips met in the briefest of kisses. As he moved away from her a fraction he felt her image at this moment would live with him forever. He was engulfed by his feelings for her; with Marguerite one kiss would never be enough.

His fingertips traced along her delicate collar bones, and she took a sharp breath in at the contrast between the dry heat of his touch and the cool night air. Languorously she looked up at him and saw an expression of intense passion in his eyes.

As their eyes locked, his faint touch changed: he used the back of his hand now, and the knuckles of his left hand softly followed an invisible line along her porcelain skin where it met the embroidered edge of her shimmering gown.

She felt as though wherever he touched her, he left a trail of fire and she yearned for him to come closer, to take her in his arms again. But still that slow movement of his hand went on as he held her gaze. A rosy flush suffused her exposed skin and she felt as though her legs would no longer be able to hold her.

Then he caught her to him and their lips met in a long and maddening kiss. They fell apart, both slightly breathless. Marguerite reached out with an unsteady hand and smoothed a stray strand of blond hair which had fallen across her husband's brow.

Recalled to their surroundings by a breath of wind which stirred the wrap around her shoulders, she glanced back at the Hall, before looking to Percy. His usually sleepy blue eyes were alight with passion as he gazed back at her from under heavy lids. But seeing her concern his lips curled into a crooked half-smile.

"Shall we return to the house, m'dear?" he murmured, as he gently readjusted her shawl to protect her from the breeze. It was exactly the same courtesy he had performed earlier, but now wherever his fingertips brushed her skin seemed to burn. Needing to be closer to him, but unable to trust herself to speak, she nodded and turned towards the Hall.

The velvety night air surrounded them with a comforting darkness as they walked slowly back to the house, not hand in hand this time, just close enough for Percy to feel the silken rustle of her skirts across his hand as she moved. When they entered the dimly lit house, Marguerite avoided her husband's eyes - she felt if she looked into the depths of his gaze now she would surely melt and be unable to walk any farther.

She made it to the half-landing before turning back to him.

"Percy?"

She whispered his name and the sound of her voice broke the silent, heated tension which had been building up between them. She found herself caught by the hand and hastened into her bedroom.

The heavy brocade drapes had been left open and the moonlight streamed into the large room. It lent a subtle gloss to the solid old furniture which seemed to have been here since the house was built.

After shutting the door behind them Percy had stopped dead at the sight of Marguerite, once more cloaked in the silvery sheen of the moon. His breath caught in his throat - her beauty, her strength, her trust, her love - they were his.

He moved towards her and took her gently into his arms - the passion from the lakeside was still there, but it was burning slowly now. Fuelling the flames once more he began to trace delicate patterns across her exposed skin. Marguerite sighed with contentment at his touch, and reached out for him.

Her fingers slid beneath the rough material of his coat, and she could feel the warmth from his body. She pushed the heavy cloth coat away from his shoulders, he shrugged it off, and it fell, unheeded, to the floor. The shawl which he had wrapped around her with such care earlier swiftly followed it to the ground. Layers of satin, linen and lace whispered down to the carpet, creating a cloud of subtle, shimmering fabric around them.

Insistently her hands moved to the nape of his neck, urging his head down to her uplifted face: their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss. Marguerite felt the fire which had been lit in tingling trails across her sensitive skin was now burning through her whole being. She could feel his fingers working through her hair, the soft sounds of combs and pins falling to the carpet were all that broke the stillness of the night, until it cascaded around her in deep copper waves. As she reached up to caress his face, Percy swung her up into his arms and lifted her tenderly on to the huge, old bed.

Her pale skin seemed to be lit from within, clad now in just her light shift, she appeared to him to glow against the backdrop of the deep greens and golds of the bed linen. The only touches of colour were the ardent stream of her hair and the deep blue of her inviting eyes. Percy, too, was naked save for his shirt, which he quickly pulled over his head before he moved back towards her on the bed. Marguerite found herself languidly admiring the strength of his figure - clad now only in a sheen of perspiration.

She ran her hands across the breadth of his shoulders, down his back, to his narrow hips. Needing to be closer to him she removed the loose linen shift, and with it out of the way Percy ran a line of kisses from her collarbone, over the swell of her breasts and across the curve of her stomach.

Just as she thought she couldn't stand this delicate torture any more he moved over her and their mouths met, energy surging between them. Her hands once more glided over the smooth, silken skin of his back, and down to his hips, urging him to her. Every curve and hollow of their bodies fit as though designed to be one.

As they moved together, the rhythm of their bodies quickened. Marguerite felt the ecstasy build until it overtook her in an explosion which reached every nerve in her body, and, as she cried out, she felt Percy shudder and tense as he, too, was caught in the wave of passion which swept over them both.