Dara was waiting for him in the hallway, looking as bright and innocent as spring in a blue muslin gown trimmed with wide cream ribbon at the full sleeves and hem. She turned and watched him walk down the staircase, her smile bright and eager. She was smiling, Jiyong realized with a nearly uncontrollable surge of fury, because his beautiful young wife intended to rid herself of him for good.

"Ready to go?" she asked brightly.

Wordlessly he nodded, and they walked out to the car that was waiting for them in the drive.

Beneath the fringe of her lashes, Dara stole another sideways peek at Jiyong's profile as their car swayed gently down the path through the trees that would soon open up into a wide, lush field that bordered the orchards. Despite Jiyong's outwardly relaxed pose as he lounged back against the squabs, his hands light on the horses' reins, she saw his gaze move restlessly over the trees bordering the path as if he were watching for something, waiting for it.

In fact, she had just started to wonder if he had somehow found out about her "surprise" and was expecting the revelers to burst out of the trees, when their car broke into the field, and Jiyong's open shock at the spectacle that greeted him removed any possibility that he was forewarned.

"What the?" Jiyong breathed in amazement as he gazed at the incredible sight before him: Colorful banners and baloons were waving in the breeze, and all his tenants and their children were gathered in the fields, dressed in their best clothing, grinning at him. Off to his left, he saw Youngbae, his mother, and his brother standing with Jiyong's grandmother. Bom and Top had come with Wooyoung and a half-dozen other Jiyong's acquaintance from Seoul. On his right, at the far side of the clearing, a large raised platform had been set up, with two thronelike chairs and a half-dozen other, less elaborate chairs upon it A canopy stretched above the platform, protecting it from the sun, and the Hawthorne pennants were flying from poles atop the canopy arranged with loud, emphatic blasts upon their horns, followed by a prolonged cheer that went up from the crowd.

Drawing the horses up short, Jiyong turned sharply to Dara. "What is this all about?" he demanded. The eyes she raised to his were full of love and uncertainty and hope.

"Happy birthday," she said tenderly. Jiyong simply looked at her, his jaw tight, and said absolutely nothing. Smiling uncertainly, she explained, "It's a Morsham-style celebration, only more elaborate than the ones we used to have to celebrate birthdays." When he continued to stare at her, she laid her hand on his arm and explained eagerly, "It's a combination tournament and country fair to celebrate your birthday. And to help you get to know your tenants a little, too."

Jiyong looked around at the crowd in angry bewilderment. Could this whole elaborate setting actually be a backdrop for murder? he wondered. Was his wife an angel or a she-devil? Before the day was out, he would know. Turning,"What am I supposed to do now?"

"Well let's see," she said brightly, trying not to let him see how foolish she felt or how hurt "Do you see the livestock in the pens?"

Jiyong glanced around at the half-dozen pens scattered about the field.

"Yes."

"Well, the livestock belongs to your cottagers, and you're to select the best from each pen, and to give the owner a prize from the ones I've purchased in the village. Over there, where the ropes created lanes, there'll be a jousting contest, and over there where the target is an archery contest, and”"

"I think I have the gist of it," Jiyong interrupted shortly.

"It would also be rather nice if you'd compete in some of the contests," Dara added a little hesitantly, not certain how willing her husband might be to mingle with his inferiors.

"Fine," he said, and without another word he escorted her to her chair on the platform and left her there.

After greeting his friends from Seoul, he, Top, and Youngbae helped themselves to some of the ale the cottagers were already enjoying and began strolling around the fairgrounds, pausing to watch the fourteen-year-old boy perform as an amateur juggler.

"So, my dear," Wooyoung said, leaning toward her, "is he madly in love with you yet? Shall I win our wagers?"

"Behave yourself, Wooyoung," Bom said from beside Dara.

"Do not dare to mention that dreadful wager in my presence!" snapped Yejin.

Eager to watch Jiyong from closer range, Dara stepped down from her chair and descended the steps from the platform, with Bom right behind her. "It isn't that I'm not pleased to see him, but why is Wooyoung here? And the others?"

Bom chuckled. "The others came with him for the same reason.Wooyoung is here. Our proximity to Hawthorne is suddenly making us quite popular with people who would normally not set foot in the country for weeks yet they arrived yesterday, determined to have a look at how things were going with you and Jiyong. You know Wooyoung he prides himself on knowing the gossip before everyone else does. I've missed you so much," Bom added, abruptly giving Dara swift, affectionate hug, then she stood back, studying Dara's face. "Are you happy with him?"

"yes," Dara lied.

"I knew it!" Bom said, squeezing Dara's hand, so delighted that her prophecy was coming true that Dara didn't have the heart to explain that she was married to a man whose moods were so unpredictable that she felt sometimes as if she were going quite mad. And so she held her silence and watched with bittersweet yearning as Jiyong strolled around the livestock pens with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression suitably grave as he solemnly judged the plumpest poultry, the most promising pig, the best-trained dog, handing out prizes to their awed owners.

By the time the sun began to sink beneath the treetops, and the torches had been lit, the tenants were all in rare high spirits, laughing and drinking ale together, while competing in every sort of contest from the serious to the silly. Jiyong, Top, and even Wooyoung, had joined in the archery contests, jousts, fencing and shooting matches.

With quiet pride, Dara had stood on the sidelines, her heart swelling with tenderness while she watched Jiyong deliberately miss his last shot in a shooting contest so that the thirteen-year-old son of one of his tenants would win.

"The award goes to the best man," Jiyong had declared untruthfully as he presented the awed youngster with a gold sovereign. Then he threw off all pretense of dignity by strolling over to the turtle races, choosing a turtle from the basket, and insisting that his friends do the same. But he never once turned to glance at Dara. It was as if he was exerting himself to participate solely for the sake of his guests. Side by side with the children, three of Seoul's wealthiest stood at the starting line, cheering their individual entrants, extolling them to run faster and then calling out in disgust when the turtles ignored their royal commands and retreated beneath their shells.

"I never liked turtles except in soup," Youngbae joked, nudging Top in the ribs, "but that turtle of mine showed some mettle there for a moment. I'll wager a won yours stays under his shell longer than mine."

"Done!" Top agreed unhesitatingly and began extolling his laggard turtle to remove his head from his shell.

Jiyong watched them, his expression closed, and then he turned and walked over to a table where mugs of ale were being served by some of his kitchen maids.

"What the devil's gotten into your illustrious cousin?" Wooyoung inquired of Youngbae. "When the two of you were fencing, he looked like he was trying to draw your blood. Can it be he's still jealous because his wife nearly married you?"

Deliberately keeping his attention on his turtle, Youngbae shrugged lightly. "What gives you the idea G dragon was ever jealous?"

"My dear boy, don't forget I was at the Shin's party he swooped down upon us like an avenging angel and ordered Dara home."

"Because of that outrageous wager which you coerced her into placing," Youngbae shot back, and pointedly turned all his attention to his turtle.

Helping himself to another glass of ale from the table, Jiyong propped his shoulder against a tree, his expression thoughtful as he stood at the perimeter of the woods, watching Dara as her gaze searched the crowd, obviously looking for him. She'd been watching him all night, Jiyong knew. So had Youngbae. And both of them were wearing the same baffled, uneasy expressions as if they expected him to be more overjoyed with his birthday celebration.

His gaze returned to Dara and he saw her laugh at something his grandmother said. He could almost hear the music of her laughter, and even in the encroaching dark he could almost see the way her eyes lit when she laughed. His wife. A murderess. Even as he thought it, his heart screamed a protest that his mind could no longer override.

"I don't believe it!" he bit out in a soft, furious whisper. The girl who had planned all this could not be planning his murder. The girl who had held him to her in the night, and while they fished at the stream, and shyly presented him with her grandfather's treasured watch could not possibly be trying to murder him.

"Sir Jiyong?" Psy urgent voice stopped Jiyong as he straightened, intending to walk over to the shooting contests, which had become more humorous than intense as the contestants squinted through ale-blurred eyes at the target nailed to a tree. "I must insist you leave at once," Psy whispered, falling into step beside Jiyong.

"Don't be a fool," Jiyong snapped, completely out of patience with Psy and his theories. "The meaning behind my cousin's note is obvious they'd planned this party for me together, and that is undoubtedly why they met in secret those two times."

"There isn't time to argue about all that," Psy said angrily. "It will be dark in a few more minutes and my men aren't owls. They can't see in the dark. I've sent them ahead to position themselves along your route home."

"Since it's already too late to reach the house in daylight, I fail to see what difference it makes if I stay here for a while."

"I cannot be responsible for what happens if you don't leave here at once," Psy warned before he his heel and stalked off.

"Can you believe those grown men are actually cheering their turtles on to victory?" Bom chuckled, watching Youngbae and her husband. "I suppose I ought to go and remind them of the decorum required of men in their exalted positions," she said, and carefully descended from the platform with no such intention in mind. "Actually, I want to be there to see the winner cross the line," she confessed with a wink.

Dara nodded absently, scanning the open, cheerful faces of the cottagers, her gaze stopping on one disturbingly familiar face that wasn't cheerful at all. Suddenly, for no reason at all, she found herself recalling the night she met Jiyong a balmy night just like this one when two cutthroats held Jiyong at gunpoint.

"Grandmama," she said, turning to Yejin. "Who is that short man over there in the black shirt the one with the red kerchief around his neck?"

Yejin followed her gaze and shrugged. "I'm sure I wouldn't have the vaguest idea who he is," she declared primly. "I've seen more of these cottagers today than I have in the entire thirty years I lived at Hawthorne. Not," she added a trifle reluctantly, "that I don't think your party was an excellent idea, my dear. Things have changed in our country of late, and though I regret the necessity for pandering to those who serve us, it's wise for a landholder to be on good terms with his tenants these days. One hears talk of them demanding more and more and turning quite nasty"

Dara's attention wandered, her mind returning to her dismal preoccupation with the night she met Jiyong. Nervously, she glanced around the open field, looking for the man in the black shirt, who seemed to have vanished.

A few minutes later, without realizing what she was doing, she began taking inventory of those she loved, watching to make certain they were safely within sight. She looked for Youngbae and could not see him, then she anxiously sought out Jiyong and saw him standing at the perimeter of the woods, his shoulder propped casually against a tree, drinking ale and watching the festivities.

Jiyong saw her looking at him, and he nodded slightly. The sweet tentative smile she sent him made him ache with uncertainty and regret. He raised his glass to her in a silent, sardonic toast, then froze at the sound of a vaguely familiar voice in the darkness beside him.

"There's a gun pointing straight at yer head and another one pointing at yer wife over yonder. Make one sound and my partner will blow her head off. Now, move sideways toward the sound of my voice, right here in the woods."

Jiyong tensed and slowly lowered the mug of ale. Relief, not fear, surged through his bloodstream as he turned toward the voice; he was ready for this long-awaited confrontation with his unknown enemy eager for it. Not for an instant did he believe Dara was in any danger, that had merely been a ploy to make him obey.

Hang on there guys next chapter would be the revelation hehe