Lounging in a big wingback chair the next morning, Youngbae studied his cousin with a combination of admiration and disbelief. "G Dragon," he chuckled, "I swear to God, what everyone says about you is true you don't have a nerve in your entire body. This is your wedding day, and I'm more nervous about it than you are."

Partially dressed in a black tuxedo, Jiyong was simultaneously carrying on a last-minute meeting with his grandmother's estate manager and pacing slowly back and forth across his room, glancing over a report on one of his business ventures.

"Do you mind telling me how you can be so damned nonchalant about your own marriage? You are aware that you're getting married in fifteen minutes, aren't you?" Dismissing the estate manager with a nod, Jiyong laid aside the report he was reading, and finally shrugged into the jacket Youngbae was  holding out to him, then he turned to the mirror and ran a hand over his jaw to verify the closeness of his shave. "I don't think of it as getting married," he said dryly. "I think of it as adopting a child."

Youngbae smiled at the joke and Jiyong continued more seriously, "Sandara will make no demands on my life, nor will my marriage to her require any real changes. After stopping in Seoul to see Sulli, I'll take Sandara down to Portsmouth and we'll sail along the coast so that I can see how the new passenger ship we've designed handles, then I'll drop her off at my house in Devon. She'll like Devon. The house there isn't so large as to completely overwhelm her. Naturally, I'll return there to see her from time to time."

"Naturally," Youngbae  said wryly.

Without bothering to answer that, Jiyong picked up the report he'd been reading and continued scanning it.

"Your beauteous ballerina is not going to like this, Jiyong," Tony put in after a few minutes. "She'll be reasonable," Jiyong said absently. "So!" Yejin said tautly, sweeping into the room wearing an elegant brown satin gown trimmed in cream lace. "You truly mean to go through with this mockery of a marriage. You actually intend to try to pass that countrified chit off on Society as a young lady of breeding and culture."

"On the contrary," Jiyong said blandly. "I mean to install her in Devon and leave the last part of that to you. There's no rush, however. Take a year or two to teach her what she needs to know in order to take her place as my wife."

"I couldn't accomplish that feat in a decade," his grandmother snapped. Until then, he had tolerated her objections without rancor, but that remark seemed to push him too far, and his voice took on the cutting edge that intimidated servants and socialites alike. "How difficult can it be to teach an intelligent girl to act like a vapid, vain henwit!"

The indomitable old woman maintained her stony dignity, but she studied her grandson's steely features with something akin to surprise. "That is how you see females of your own class, then? Vapid and vain?" "No," Jiyong said curtly. "That is how I see them when they are Sandara's age. Later, most of them become much less appealing." Like your mother , she thought. Like my mother, he thought. "That is not true of all females." "No," Jiyong agreed without conviction or interest. "Possibly not."

The grooming and dressing preparations for her wedding had taken Dara and two maids three hours. The wedding took less than ten minutes. An hour later, self-consciously holding a crystal glass of bubbling golden champagne in her hand, Dara stood alone with her groom in the center of the huge blue and gold salon, as Jiyong poured champagne for himself.

Despite her determination to ignore it, her wedding had a distinct aura of unreality, of strain. Her mother and Uncle Monty had attended and been barely tolerated Jiyong and his grandmother, even though Uncle Monty was on his very best behavior and even Yejin. Youngbae and Han Byul had also been here, but now everyone was already on the way home.

Surrounded by the stifling elegance of the gilt salon and garbed in Jiyong's mother's fabulous wedding gown of ivory satin encrusted with pearls, Dara felt more like an interloper than she had at any time since coming to Rosemeade. The feeling that she was a trespasser, who had invaded a world where she was no more welcome than her relatives, was nearly choking her.

It was odd that she felt so insecure and uneasy now, Dara mused, for she was wearing a gown more glorious than any she had ever imagined, and she looked far prettier than she had ever believed she could. Dara had looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror in her room and been privately overjoyed.  But Jiyong had said nothing about her appearance. He had smiled reassuringly at her when Uncle Monty placed her hand in his, and that had been enough to sustain her during the hour since the ceremony had taken place. Now, however, they were alone together as husband and wife for the first time, and the only sound was that of servants carrying their heavy trunks down the stairs and out to the traveling chaise, where they were being loaded for the wedding journey.

Uncertain of what to do with the champagne, Dara chose the path of least resistance and drank some of it, then she put it down on an elaborately carved gilt table. When she turned, Jiyong was studying her as if seeing her for the first time. Not once all morning had he commented on her appearance, but now, as his gaze drifted from the top of her shining hair to the hem of her gleaming satin gown, she sensed that he was finally going to comment, and she held her breath expectantly.

"You're taller than I originally thought."

The unexpected observation, added to his genuinely puzzled expression, wrung a startled laugh from Dara . "I don't think I've grown more than a few inches in the last week."

He smiled absently at her quip and then continued thoughtfully, "In the beginning, I mistook you for a boy, and you would be small for a boy."

Dara said teasingly, "I am not, however, a boy." Despite his intention to treat her impersonally after yesterday's kiss, Jiyong was not proof against her sunny, entrancing smile. It even dispelled the gloom of his marriage ceremony from his heart. "You are not a boy," he agreed, smiling back at her. "Nor are you a young girl exactly. But then, neither are you a woman."

"I seem to be at an awkward age, don't I?" she agreed, her eyes aglow with gentle mockery of his fixation with her age. "Evidently," he chuckled. "How do you describe a young lady who is not quite a women?" "I am already twenty two" Dara said seriously. "Today is my birthday."

"I had no idea today was your birthday," he said, truly apologetic. "I'll buy you a present on our trip. What do girls your age like?"

"We like not to be constantly reminded of our extreme youth," Dara said lightly, but with a meaningful look. Jiyong's sharp bark of laughter echoed throughout the salon. "God, you have a quick wit. Amazing in one so young so pretty," he corrected swiftly. "I apologize once again for teasing you about your age and for forgetting the matter of a present."

"I greatly fear that, like it or not, you were my birthday present."

"What a way to phrase it," he chuckled.

Dara glanced at the clock; it was less than a half hour before Jiyong had said he wished to be off for their ship. "I'd better go upstairs and change my gown," she said.

"Where has my grandmother gone?" he asked as she started to leave.

"I believe she has taken to her bed, prostrate with grief over your unfortunate marriage," Dara said with a lame attempt at humor. More seriously, she added, "Will she be all right, do you think?" "It would take more than our marriage to send her to her couch calling for her hartshorn," Jiyong said with what sounded very much like fondness and admiration. " A little thing like my 'unfortunate marriage' won't send her into a decline, believe me. And now that you bear my name, she will flay anyone alive who dares to cast aspersions on you."

A half hour later, Dara climbed into a shiny black car. The driver open the door, and with scarcely any sensation of motion, the well-sprung traveling chaise glided down the long drive. Along with three cars in convoy with them.

Dara glanced about her, admiring the luxurious car, she tried to believe she was really married, really leaving on her wedding trip. Across from her, Jiyong stretched his legs out, crossed them at the ankles, and stared out the window, lapsing into a comfortable silence.

He had changed for the trip, and Dara quietly his long, muscular legs. His cream shirt was open at the neck, displaying a glimpse of tanned throat, and his coffee-colored jacket set off his powerful shoulders to wonderful advantage. She uttered a silent prayer that someday he might find her as pleasing to look at as she found him, then she decided that some form of pleasant conversation might be in order.

"Your mother's wedding gown was very beautiful," she ventured softly. "I was worried that some harm might come to it, but nothing happened."

He flicked a glance in her direction. "You needn't have worried," he said dryly. "I'm certain you are far more worthy of that symbol of chaste purity than my mother was when she wore it." "Oh," Dara said, aware that she had just been complimented, though in the context the compliment was given, "thank you" seemed highly inappropriate. When he made no attempt to converse further with her, Dara sensed that he was grappling with some sort of weighty problem, and she let the silence continue, content to watch the lush, rolling landscape pass the windows.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, they finally stopped for dinner at a large, rambling inn with ivy covering its mellowed brick exterior and a neat, white fence enclosing its huge yard.

One of the convoy had obviously been sent ahead, because both the innkeeper and his wife greeted them and then promptly ushered them through the common rooms, into a cozy private dining parlor where a sumptuous meal in covered trays was already laid out.

"You were hungry," her husband remarked later, as she laid her knife and fork down and sighed with relief.

"Starved," Dara agreed. "My stomach is not yet accustomed to the town hours you keep at Rosemeade. When you are eating your supper at ten o'clock, I am normally in bed." "We'll be stopping for the night about eight o'clock, so you won't have to wait as long as that for your next meal," he volunteered politely.

When he seemed to want to linger over his wine, Dara asked, "Would you mind very much if I waited for you outside? I'd love to walk around a bit before we get into the car again." "Fine. I'll join you in a few minutes." Dara strolled outside, enjoying the sunshine beneath the steady, watchful eye of Jiyong's driver. Two more car pulled into the innyard, both of them handsome and shiny, but not nearly so magnificent as her husband's luxurious car and for a few moments Dara simply watched, savoring each sight. Dara noticed a young boy crouched on his haunches near the corner of the fence, apparently speaking to the ground. Curious, she wandered over, then smiled when she saw that he was talking to a litter of frolicking, long-haired puppies.

"How cute they are!" she exclaimed. The puppies' heads and front legs were white, their hindquarters black.

"Would yer like t'buy one?" the boy said eagerly. "I could let yer have th' pick o' the litter fer a good price. They be pure bred." "What kind are they?"  Dara asked, laughing delightedly when the smallest of the balls of white and brown fluff detached itself from the others, scampered over to her, and clamped its tiny teeth onto the hem of her skirt, tugging playfully at it.

"Fine English sheepdogs," the boy provided, as Dara bent down to separate the puppy from her hem. "Very smart, they be." The moment her hands touched the thick, silky fur, Dara was enchanted. Long ago she'd had a collie, but after her father died, food had been too precious to waste on any animal that didn't earn its keep, and she'd given her collie to Han Byul 's brother. Scooping the puppy up, she held it at eye level while its tiny legs flailed the air and a small pink tongue eagerly her hand. She was still holding the puppy, discussing its merits with its enthusiastic owner when her husband came up behind her and said, "It's time to leave."

Dara never considered asking her new husband to let her have the puppy, but the unconscious appeal was there in the large eyes and soft smile she turned up to him. "I had a collie once, a long time ago."

"Did you?" he asked noncommittally.

Dara nodded, put the puppy on the ground, patted it, and smiled at the boy. "Good luck finding homes for them," she said.

She had not taken three steps before she felt a tug on the back hem of her skirt. She turned, and the puppy she'd been holding let go of her skirt and sat down, its pink tongue lolling, its expression comically worshipful.

"She likes me," Dara explained helplessly, laughing. Bending down, she turned the puppy back toward the litter and patted its backside, urging it to go back to the boy. The puppy stubbornly refused to budge. Left with no other choice, Dara cast an affectionate, apologetic smile at the small ball of fur, then she turned her back on it, and let Jiyong her to the car.

After pausing to issue instructions to his driver, he climbed in and sat down beside her.  Dara peered out the window into the woods alongside the road. A moment later the door of the car was pulled open and a harassed, apologetic driver's face appeared.

 "Sir," he said contritely, " We might delayed our departure, this dog seems to have a calling in nature” which he was holding in the crook of his right arm, was a squirming ball of brown-and-white fur.

Jiyong  sighed and nodded. "Very well, Grimm, take the animal for a walk. "I'll do it," Dara volunteered, and Jiyong climbed out of the car too, walking with her into a little clearing in the woods beside the road. Turning, Dara lifted her shining eyes to her husband's amused brown ones. "I think you must be the very kindest of men," she whispered.

"Happy birthday," he said with a resigned sigh.

"Thank you so much," she said, her heart swelling with gratitude because it was perfectly obvious he had a low opinion of the gift she'd wanted so much. "The puppy won't be a bit of trouble, you'll see." Jiyong directed a dubious look at the puppy, who was now sniffing every inch of ground it could put its nose to, its stubby tail wagging excitedly. Abruptly it seized a twig and began tearing at it. "The boy told me she's very smart."

"Mongrels frequently are."

"Oh, but she isn't a mongrel," Dara said, bending down to pluck some of the pink wildflowers blooming at her feet. "She's an English sheepdog."

"A what!" Jiyong demanded, thunderstruck. "An English sheepdog," Dara explained, thinking his surprise sprang from a lack of knowledge about the breed. "They're very smart and they don't grow very large." When he stared at her as if she'd taken complete leave of her senses, Dara added, "That nice young boy told me all that about her."

"That nice, young honest boy?" Jiyong asked sardonically. "The same one who told you this is a pureblood?"

"Yes, of course," Dara said, tipping her head to the side and wondering about his tone. "The very same." "Then let's hope he also lied about its pedigree." "Did he lie to me?"

"Through his teeth," Jiyong averred grimly. "If that dog is an English sheepdog, it will be the size of a large pony with paws the size of saucers. Let's hope its father was actually a small terrier." He looked so disgusted that Dara turned quickly away to hide a smile and knelt to pick up the puppy. Jiyong looked at the child-woman he had married, watching the breeze hair, holding a puppy in her arms and flowers in her hand. Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees above, surrounding her in a halo of light. "You look like a Gainsborough portrait," he said softly.

Mesmerized by the husky sound of his voice and the strange, almost reverent intensity in his brown eyes, Dara slowly stood up. "I'm not very pretty." "Aren't you?" There was a smile in his voice. "I wish I were, but I fear I'm going to be very ordinary."

A slow, reluctant smile tugged at his sensual lips and he slowly shook his head. "There is nothing 'ordinary' about you, Dara," Jiyong replied. His decision to stay away from her, until she was a few years older and able to play the game of romance by his rules, was suddenly overpowered by a compelling need to feel those soft lips beneath his. Just one more time.

As he walked slowly, purposefully toward her, Dara's heart began to hammer in expectation of the kiss she sensed he was going to give her. Already, she was learning what it meant when his eyes turned sultry and his voice became low and husky.

Cradling her face between his palms, Jiyong threaded his fingers through her dark curls. Her cheeks felt like satin, and her hair was crushed silk in his hands as he tipped her head up. With infinite tenderness, he took her lips, telling himself he was a thousand kinds of madman for what he was doing, but when her lips softened and responded to his, he ignored the warning. Intending to deepen the kiss, he started to put his arms around her, but the puppy she was holding let out a sharp, indignant bark of protest and he abruptly pulled back.

Dara was still trying to suppress her disappointment over his abbreviated kiss when she went into the car.

Jiyong, however, was vastly relieved that one kiss hadn't led to another, which in turn would have undoubtedly led to another declaration of love from the romantic girl he'd married. He didn't think "thank you" would satisfy her as a reply the second time, and he didn't want to crush her with silence or shatter her with a lecture. He would wait a year or two to take her to bed, he decided firmly wait until she'd been out in Society and would be more realistic in her expectations for their marriage.

The decision made and reinforced by his experience in the woods, his mood lightened tremendously. "Have you thought of a name for it?" he asked when the coach was again moving smoothly ahead. He was eyeing the puppy, who was busily sniffing about the floor, happily exploring its new surroundings. Daro looked fondly at the soft white ball of fur. "What do you think of Buttercup?" He rolled his eyes in masculine disgust.

"Daisy?"

"You must be joking."

"Petunia?"

His eyes gleamed with laughter. "He won't be able to hold up his head among the other dogs." Dara stared blankly at him. "The boy told me it's a 'she.' "

"He most definitely is not."

Unwilling to believe she'd been so completely duped by a mere child, Dara longed to lift the puppy up and see for herself, but she was not bold enough to do it "You're quite certain?"

"Positive."

"No!" she said sharply when the puppy clamped small teeth on the hem of her skirt and began to tug. Its only response was to tug more violently. "Cease!" commanded Jiyong e in a low, booming voice. Instantly sensing The Voice of Authority, the puppy let go, wagged his tail, and promptly curled up at Jiyong's feet, laying his head on one brightly polished brown boot. This unwelcome show of affection earned from Jiyong a glare of such excruciating distaste that Dara gave in to a helpless fit of laughter. "Don't you like animals, Jiyong?" she asked, swallowing a fresh onslaught of giggles.

"Not untrained, undisciplined ones," he said, but even he was not proof against the infectious gaiety of her musical laughter. "I shall call him Gaho," Dara decreed suddenly.

"Why?"

"Because it sounds  catchy.."

Jiyong smiled, his mood improving with each moment in her cheerful company.

They spent the rest of the journey talking about anything and everything. Dara discovered to her pleasure that her new husband was extremely well-read, intelligent, and deeply involved in the management of Kwon company. From that, she gathered that he was a man who shouldered responsibility quite effortlessly, and well. She was, in fact, well on her way to developing an extreme case of hero worship.

For his part, Jiyong confirmed what he had already guessed about Sandara she was sensitive, intelligent, and witty. He also discovered that she was even more hopelessly naive about lovemaking than he would have imagined possible. The proof of this came later, when they had finished a highly satisfying meal in the hotel where they were to spend the night. The longer Jiyong lingered over his port, the more nervous and preoccupied Dara seemed to become. Finally, she leapt up and began carefully smoothing the wrinkles from her dress, then she made a great show of turning around and examining a perfectly common little oak table. "Excellent workmanship, is it not?"

"Not particularly." Almost desperately, Dara continued. "When I look at a piece of furniture, I always wonder about the man who labored to make it” you know, whether he was short or tall, grim or pleasant  things like that."

"Do you?" he asked blandly. "Yes, of course. Don't you?" "No."

With her back still turned to him, Dara said with great care, "I think I'll go get Gaho and take him for a walk." "Sandara." The word, spoken in a calm, no-nonsense tone, stopped her in her tracks, and she turned. "Yes?"

"You needn't work yourself into a fever of anguished terror. I've no intention of sleeping with you tonight."

Dara, whose only concern had been a need to use the inn's facilities, looked at him in surprise and unconcern. "I never imagined you would. Why ever should you want to sleep in my room when this hotel is so very large, and you can afford a room of your own?"

This time it was Jiyong's turn to look blank. "I beg your pardon?" he uttered, unable to believe his ears. "It isn't that you aren't welcome to share my room," she amended cordially, "but why you would wish to do so, I can't imagine. Sarah our old housekeeper always said I flail about like a fish out of water at night, and I'm sure I'd make you very uncomfortable. Would you mind terribly if I went upstairs now?" For a moment Jiyong simply stared at her, his wineglass arrested partway to his mouth, then he shook his head as if trying to clear it. "Of course not," he said in an odd, choked voice. "Go ahead."