She gave a sigh of profound satisfaction, and within a few minutes her breathing had the regularity of deep slumber. He nuzzled her hair, thinking that she smelled like sunshine and spring breezes and sensual allure.

Yet though he was equally tired, he could not relax. He had wanted to make her so much his own that they would be bonded forever, but despite her wholehearted acceptance of the pa.s.sion that bound them, part of her spirit remained elusive. Instead of him possessing her, she now possessed him.

Yes, this marriage would transform them both. And whatever the cost, Gwynne was worth it.

Gwynne awoke as the first hint of dawn lightened the sky outside their chamber. She stretched languidly, careful not to wake Duncan, who slept with a muscular arm around her waist. A stub of candle still burned, and by its light she could admire the rugged planes of his face. Though his strength was evident even in sleep, she no longer felt intimidated. Already it was hard to remember how alarming she had found him. That seemed a lifetime ago.

She understood now why Emery had chosen not to make her his true wife. He had married her to give support and guidance, and to groom her for her future destiny. His reward had been the rare companionship they had shared.

But now that she'd been initiated into pa.s.sion, she recognized that if she and Emery had been lovers, the powerful bond of intimacy would have changed her in fundamental ways. She would have been a different woman when she met Duncan, and she suspected those differences would have influenced whatever mysterious destiny lay ahead. So Emery had suppressed his own desires in the interests of the greater good. He was a true Guardian to the end.

Overcome with tenderness, she caressed Duncan's bristly jaw with the back of her hand. How fortunate she was. Her first husband had been a wise scholar and the epitome of kindness. Her second husband-no, her last husband, she knew in her bones there would be no other-personified power, intelligence, and leadership, while also being pa.s.sionate and devoted.

Merely looking at him began to rouse the desire she'd never known before they met. Lightly she skimmed her hand over his broad chest, wondering if he would be willing to teach her more about pa.s.sion if she woke him. She didn't feel sore at all. Instead, she felt . . . ready.

He shifted a little and she moved her hand to his heart, thinking how easy it would be to fall in love with this man. She had loved Emery, but Duncan would call forth a different, wilder love.

His eyes opened, and he smiled up at her. As she smiled back, she had a sudden, horrifying vision of him shouting at her, his face contorted with rage and anguish.

And a cool voice in the back of her mind said, "You will betray him."

TWELVE.

G wynne gazed idly out the carriage window, admiring the way the late-afternoon light gilded the Northumberland hills. They had traveled fast on this wedding trip, but Duncan had taken the time to show her sights of interest. Every experience was new and wonderful-especially the nights.

But the days were also a pleasure despite the long hours rattling around in a carriage on rough roads. They had talked about topics large and small, deepening their knowledge of each other. He had described what it was like to wield power so vividly that she almost felt that she could do the same.

In return, she revealed theories she had developed from her researches but not yet published for other Guardians to read. Several times, his insights as a mage helped her crystallize her ideas.

Much of the time, it was almost possible to forget that uncanny mental voice warning that someday she would betray her husband. The idea was so painful that she couldn't bear to think about it. Since she was no mage, perhaps that ominous voice was wrong, a mere product of her anxiety. But there were times when she knew what would happen with absolute certainty, and this had felt like one of them.

A new hill came into view, a bold linear structure running along the ridge. She leaned forward eagerly. "Is that Hadrian's Wall?"

He nodded. "You can see it close up since we'll be staying with Lord Montague tonight. That section of the wall is on his estate." He glanced across her at the distant wall and said musingly, "The mighty Roman Empire ended here because the savage tribes of Scotland refused to yield their freedom. They fought so ferociously that Emperor Hadrian decided it was easier to draw a line and protect it with stone, ditch, and soldiers."

His expression revealed how much that ancient fight for freedom spoke to him. As when she'd listened to Sir Ian Macleod, her understanding of what it meant to be a Scot deepened. "You had indomitable ancestors," she said quietly.

"Freedom is worth a high price."

Did the Stuart cause whisper to his love of freedom? Hoping that wasn't the case, she asked, "Is the wall the special surprise you told me I'd have tonight?" She immediately recognized the double entendre. As she glanced across the carriage at her husband, his grin revealed that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

She'd learned that he couldn't read her mind, but he was uncannily accurate in reading her emotions, and lovemaking figured heavily in them. "What you are thinking is no longer a surprise." She fluttered her lashes extravagantly. "But it is a most delicious adventure. This whole journey is an adventure."

"Surely you've already tired of ruts and carriages."

"True, but since I've never been more than a day's travel from London, this trip is marvelously exciting despite the rough roads."

"There are some good roads being built in the Highlands," he said dryly. "After the Fifteen, London wanted to be able to send troops in quickly to quell rebellion."

His words silenced her. At every stop on their road north, they heard more news about the uprising. Prince Charles had raised his standard at Glenfinnan in front of a thousand Macdonalds and Camerons, it was said. After declaring his father to be King James the VIII of Scotland and the III of England, the prince had set off for Edinburgh and he was swiftly gathering support.

Rumor said that three thousand clansmen from the west marched at his back, with more joining his army every day. He was being called Bonnie Prince Charlie, and he possessed the personal magnetism that his father had lacked when James had come to Scotland to lead the rebellion in 1715.

Breaking the uneasy silence, Duncan said, "Though you'll enjoy Hadrian's Wall, that's not the surprise I had in mind. I want to give you a horse as a wedding gift, and Lord Montague has the finest breeding stables in the north. There's a good bit of mountain pony in his stock, so they're tough and surefooted, with amazing endurance. The beasts are much better suited to conditions in Scotland than the horses you rode in the south. I hope to find a suitable mount for myself as well. Perhaps we can ride the rest of the way to Dunrath if you're up to such a long distance."

She almost bounced with excitement. "What a wonderful idea! I gather you've bought other horses from the Montagues?"

"Yes, my favorite mount, Thor, was bred here." Duncan smiled reminiscently. "When I left on my travels, my wee sister, Jean, told me that the price of her stewardship was Thor. I couldn't really object when I was going to be gone so long, but I'll feel better if I ride home on an equally splendid new horse. With luck, perhaps I'll find one of Thor's half brothers."

She took his hand. "I like the idea of arriving at Dunrath the first time on horseback. One sees so much more when riding, and since this will be my home, I want to see everything. The trails through the hills and glens you've described will be more romantic than having to keep to the carriage roads." Her smile broadened. "And since I'm with you, I won't even be rained on."

"If you're going to put me to work, I demand compensation." With a quick swoop of his powerful arms, he lifted her and deposited her on his lap, flouncing her skirts up so that she was straddling him with blatant intimacy. "You said right after our wedding that you would consider trysting in a carriage later. Has enough time pa.s.sed?"

She caught her breath, startled and excited. "It's only been a week-"

He cut off her words with a kiss. The mental barriers she had constructed against the images of disaster rose instantly and she kissed him back, fierce with need. Had she really been a virgin a week ago? Already she and Duncan knew each other's bodies with uncanny intimacy.

She rolled her hips against him with wicked deliberation, and was rewarded as he hardened instantly. His eyes turned dark as storm clouds. "A week is obviously quite long enough, my wicked wench."

She gasped when his knowing hand slid between her legs. The lightest of his touches brought her to readiness. Daringly she reached down to find the fastenings of his breeches. "If we're buying horses, I need to practice my riding."

He swallowed hard. "Ah, Gwynne, you are pure delight." He clasped her hips to rearrange her position and suddenly they were joined, the rocking of the carriage adding to their ardent coupling.

As her body began spinning out of control, she hoped they wouldn't reach the home of the Montagues too soon.

Duncan climbed from the carriage, then offered his hand to help his wife down. Gwynne positively glowed with sensual excitement from their recent lovemaking. Softly he said, "You are ravishing, my dear."

She smiled wickedly. "And here I thought I was ravished, not ravishing."

If Lord Montague and one of his great strapping sons weren't descending the steps of the hall, Duncan would have kissed those soft, provocative lips. Instead, he said under his breath, "You may ravish me later," before turning to greet his host.

"Ballister, splendid to see you! This is my youngest, William. Pray present us to your lady." Montague, st.u.r.dy in worn riding costume, turned to Gwynne. His expression changed instantly, as if he had been kicked in the head by one of his prize stallions.

As Duncan performed the introductions, he thought wryly about how often he'd seen that dazed expression. The farther north they traveled, the more intensely men reacted to her. He supposed it was because northerners showed their feelings more freely.

At the moment, she looked as if she had just tumbled out of a bed, which was close to the truth, and she radiated sensuality so intensely that a man would have to be three-quarters dead not to respond. Montague's young son William looked as if his eyes were about to fall out of his head. Even the coachman who had driven the newlyweds all the way from London watched Gwynne with quiet hunger.

Pulling himself together, Montague suggested, "Perhaps you would like to go to your rooms and rest until dinner."

"Actually, we'd like to look at your horses." Duncan glanced at his wife. "If we change into our habits, perhaps we could go for a ride? I'm thinking the Dunrath stables could use some new stock."

Montague's business instincts took over. "Then you need look no further. I have some exceptional beasts available now, if I do say so myself."

Their host's pride proved justified. After Duncan and Gwynne changed to their riding clothes, they met the baron and his son in the stable yard. William's gaze immediately locked onto Gwynne even though he was too shy to speak to her. Duncan guessed that the young man was about twenty. A susceptible age.

"Does Thor have any half brothers ready for sale?"

Montague chuckled. "You have the luck of the devil, Ballister. Come take a look at Zeus. He's a full brother to Thor, and as fine a horse as I've ever bred."

"I'll show Lady Ballister mounts suitable for a lady," William offered eagerly.

Gwynne gave her husband a laughing glance, then went off with the young man. Duncan hoped that William's heart wouldn't break too easily.

Montague led his guest to a box stall that held a magnificent dark bay. "What do you think, Ballister? "

Almost black, Zeus was tall and powerful, and his relationship to Thor was visible in every line of his magnificently proportioned body. Duncan knew instantly that this was the horse for him, but it wouldn't do to seem too enthusiastic. "He's a handsome fellow," he said noncommittally. "May I have one of those apples you're carrying?"

While Montague handed over the fruit, Zeus thrust his head out of the box curiously. Duncan stepped forward to introduce himself, mentally sending a message of admiration and affection. Horses didn't think like humans, but they responded to positive feelings. Zeus was no exception. Within moments, he was eating the apple from Duncan's hand. The horse had a fine opinion of himself, but Duncan sensed no malice. "I'd like to take him for a ride."

Montague signaled a groom to lead the horse out and saddle it. "Shall we see how your lovely lady is doing?"

Duncan wasn't surprised to see that Gwynne had bypa.s.sed the ladies' mounts and was stroking the elegant muzzle of a tall chestnut mare that was almost golden in the afternoon light. William said nervously, "Sheba is very lively, my lady. She is not a mount I would recommend to you. Perhaps this gelding in the next stall-"

"Not to mention that Sheba isn't for sale," Montague interjected. "I want to keep her for breeding."

The mare gave Gwynne's shoulder a friendly head b.u.t.t that almost knocked her backward. Laughing, she stroked the glossy neck, then turned to Montague. "Please, may I at least ride her? She's the most beautiful mare I've ever seen."

Montague hesitated, then surrendered to his guest's lovely warm gaze. "Very well," he said gruffly. " A sidesaddle for the lady. But I warn you, Sheba is a rare handful. She might not be to your taste."

"We'll see. Thank you so much." Gwynne's smile was dazzling.

When the saddled horses were led out into the yard, Duncan personally helped Gwynne onto the saddle. He was afraid that if William had a chance to touch the object of his infatuation, the poor lad might never recover.

As Gwynne settled down and straightened her flowing skirts, Montague himself stood at the mare's head and held the bridle. "Be careful with her," he warned.

Gwynne nodded, but care wasn't required. When the stable owner released the bridle, Sheba walked around the yard as placidly as an aged cart horse. "What a light mouth she has," Gwynne observed. "Can we ride up to Hadrian's Wall, Duncan?"

He swung onto his own saddle. "Is that all right with you, Montague? It's a long enough ride for us to develop a sense of the horses' quirks."

"These horses have no quirks," the other man retorted. "They'll ride smooth as silk. Try to be back in time for dinner."

Duncan and Gwynne walked sedately out of the yard, but once they were clear of the farm buildings, he said, "That path will take us up to the wall."

"Now to see what Sheba can do!" Gwynne and the mare took off in a blaze of golden light.

The whip of her skirts reminded him of that ride in Richmond Park. Lord, was that only a fortnight ago? He gave Zeus his head and the horse leaped into a gallop, eager to run off his excess energy.

Just before they were out of sight of the stables, Duncan glanced back and saw that William was staring after Gwynne with blatant adoration. Now he could admire her superb horsemanship as well as her beauty.

The ride out to the wall gave them time to check the horses' paces. Like all Montague mounts, these were beautifully trained and a pleasure to ride. They would cost a king's ransom but be worth the price for the bloodlines they would bring to Dunrath.

Duncan savored the ride, knowing that troubles would crowd in once they reached Dunrath. Fast-moving clouds danced across the sky, interrupting the late-summer sunshine. Once he reached up to push away a rain-bearing cloud, quietly protecting his lady's splendid plumed hat.

As they reached the hill below the wall, Gwynne pulled her mount into a walk. "I must have Sheba!" she said, her face rosy from the fast ride. "It was the strangest sensation when I first saw her-almost as if our minds connected and I was her, seeing me and wanting to be with me. Do you think Montague will sell?"

"He will if you smile at him again," Duncan predicted. A smile and an outrageous amount of money would do the trick. "I feel the same about Zeus. As soon as I saw him, I knew he was the one. He's every inch Thor's equal."

"Then I shall buy Zeus for you as a wedding gift."

"There's no need to do that!" he said, startled. "You yourself are the greatest gift any man could want. Besides, Montague will charge a fortune."

Her brows arched. "There may be no need, but I want to. The marriage settlements left me in control of my own money, my dear. Haven't I the right to spend some of it on you?"

He couldn't deny the logic of that. "Very well, I accept with grat.i.tude." He patted the glossy dark neck. "I look forward to our ride to Dunrath."

"So do I."

They reached the wall, which was built of great stone blocks and loomed twice the height of a tall man. Wordlessly they turned their horses to amble along the track that paralleled the ancient structure, Duncan imagining those distant days when Scots stood up against the greatest empire the world had ever seen, and won.

"It's even more imposing than I expected," Gwynne observed. "If we were to climb to the top of the wall, would we be able to see Scotland?"

"No, but a day's ride will bring us into the Lowlands. Which are not at all low, really. Dunrath lies right on the edge of the Highlands."

"That will suit me well. The farther north I go, the more alive I feel."

And the more beautiful she became. Despite their lovemaking the night before and in the carriage earlier in the afternoon, his desire flared with painful urgency. If they weren't expected back at the house, he would coax her from the horse so they could add life and laughter to the memories held in the ancient stone wall. Clearing his throat, he said, "Shall we ride back and start bargaining? Half the fun is in working out the price."

She grinned. "I shall leave that part to you, my lord and master."

"You need to practice being demure, la.s.s," he advised. "You're not convincing."

With a peal of laughter, she set off down the hill. He followed, thinking he was the luckiest man in Britain.

THIRTEEN.

G wynne was glad it was still summer, because Montague Hall was drafty. Very drafty. In winter the halls would be icy as a north wind, but at this season a shawl was enough to keep her comfortable. As she entered the sitting room on Duncan's arm, she remarked, "I suppose it's time to accustom myself to drafts and cold rooms. How many residents of Dunrath die of lung fever each winter?"

He chuckled. "We Scots are a hardy lot. After a winter in Dunrath, you'll hardly notice the cold. You'll be a hale and hearty Scotswoman, vastly superior to the frail Sa.s.senach ladies."

"I fail to see how being comfortable makes one inherently inferior," she said tartly. "If G.o.d had intended us to be cold, he wouldn't have given us fire and wool."

Duncan's grin deepened, but she saw that young William looked alarmed, as if her husband intended to keep her in misery. Very earnest was young William.