"Stubborn woman," he muttered as he tucked her back against him, his hand once again cupping her breast, but not so loosely this time.

"Did-did it hurt you?"

"Did what hurt me?" His voice purred lazily.

"Raising the wind."

"No. Trying to make it stop after it's been stirred does, though."

She turned in his arms so she could see his face. They were now chest to chest, Hugh's arms loosely clasped about her waist. "But that's against the legend. If you can control it, it's not really a curse, is it?"

"If I lose my temper, the weather will roar just as it does with my brothers. But if I work hard, sometimes I can stop it. Sometimes."

Something about the somber way he spoke made her ask, "At what cost?"

MacLean placed a warm kiss on her forehead. "That is for me to worry about."

She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away. "I want to know more. My grandmother was forever telling us about the curse and how it works."

He chuckled, the rumbling noise making his chest vibrate against hers. "You are as curious as a cat."

She touched a finger to his chin. "How long have you known you're able to control your particular...ability?"

His wolfish grin made her heart sputter. "I've always been able to control my..." He slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her tight against him so she could feel his erection. "...ability. Would you like a demonstration?"

Triona leaned toward him, savoring the contact and relishing his good humor. "You are very different here, at your house."

"I'm home," he said simply. He cupped her face with a gentle hand and slid it down her neck to her shoulder. "I have a question for you: do you always talk this much in the morning?"

"Do you always touch this much in the morning?" she retorted. His hands had never stilled, stroking her back, her shoulders, down her side, grazing the side of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in a way that made her stomach tighten and kept her from thinking about anything but him.

His eyes twinkled. "Sometimes I do even more." He kissed her cheek, then rubbed his cheek to hers.

There was something so...interesting about the way his bare legs felt entwined with hers, the way her b.r.e.a.s.t.s seemed to tighten and swell as his fingers cupped her.

Her entire body warmed inside and out as restlessness grew within her. This was her husband and their marital bed, and it felt so right.

She tentatively trailed her fingers over his hard muscles, down his shoulder to his arm, then across his chest. Emboldened by her own daring and the way MacLean's eyes shimmered with growing pa.s.sion, she continued.

Touching him excited her as much as being touched. She thrilled at the masculine beauty of his body, at the sensual feel of his skin gliding beneath her fingertips. She watched as her fingers brushed over his hip and then down his thigh.

She suddenly realized he wasn't moving. She glanced into his face and surprised a look of fierce determination. "What's wrong?"

He captured her hand on his thigh. "I must maintain some control, my love; I don't want this to hurt you."

"Hurt?" Her voice squeaked.

"The first time, it can-" He caught her expression and frowned. "Didn't your mother tell you anything?"

"She told me that it would be a pleasure to be with a man I l-" Triona clamped her mouth closed. "She said when the time came, my husband would show me what to do."

Hugh grimaced.

Suddenly feeling deficient, she added hastily, "I've seen animals mate, though, if you're worried I don't know the mechanics."

He looked astounded, then laughed as he kissed first one, then the other of her hands. "I am glad you know those, at least. That makes things easier." His expression softened. "I don't want your first time to be a sad shock, as I've heard it may be uncomfortable."

"Have you ever seduced a virg-"

"No," he said hastily.

"Then who told you that?"

His face grew red. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, but who would-"

Hugh kissed her to silence the questions that were too awkward to answer, but as soon as his lips touched hers, all thought of anything was gone. She'd been driving him mad since he'd awakened to see her jump out of bed, all slender ankles and volumes of muslin floating about. As she'd moved, the material had caressed portions of her body with agonizing clarity-a long leg, her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the rounded curve of a hip-only to allow them to fade back into the soft folds. Now, holding her against him, he could feel every inch of her through the night rail, and it was driving him mad.

Oh, how he l.u.s.ted for her! She was challenge and sweetness and something else he couldn't quite name.

He kissed her, moving from her sweet lips to her neck and then her shoulder. He pushed aside the maddening night rail and nuzzled her neck until she shivered with pleasure.

That was what he wanted! He slipped his thigh between hers as he moved back to her ear. He found her breast and cupped it gently, rubbing his thumb over the nipple until it peaked and hardened.

There were so many things he longed to do, so many places he yearned to kiss-but now was not the time. He wanted to stir her senses, to raise her pa.s.sion gently so as not to frighten her. He increased his ministrations, blowing softly on the delicate skin behind her ear. Her movements, growing increasingly restless, made him ache for her anew.

Finally she began to move against his thigh, her breath short, her hands grasping his arms as she strove to pull him closer. She was almost there...he could feel it.

Hugh gritted his teeth against his howling l.u.s.t. He couldn't afford to let it loose, not yet.

He began to tug her night rail up and, to his surprise, she helped him, lifting her hips and yanking the material out of the way. Her face was flushed, her lips moist and swollen from his kisses, her hair tumbled about her in a cascade of curls. To see her so roused and so innocent was the most erotic moment Hugh had ever experienced. He had to rest his damp forehead against hers and halt his galloping imagination. For her. This has to be for her.

She writhed against him, her night rail now bunched about her waist, the tight curls between her thighs brushing his leg, damp and urgent.

Hugh positioned himself carefully, her legs opening for him naturally, then lifted up on his elbows so he could see her face. Slowly, inch by inch, he lowered himself into her. She was so tight, so sweet! His body pulsed with need and l.u.s.t. Don't frighten her, he told himself fiercely. He sank deeper, the tight wetness almost undoing him. His body was drenched with sweat, his muscles screaming as he clenched them to hold off the building heat.

He paused as he reached the small barrier, holding himself there. She writhed against him, grasping his shoulders and pulling him. "Hugh!" she gasped. "Please! I want..." She locked her legs about his waist, and yanked him deeper inside her.

Her head jerked back and pain briefly flickered over her face. Hugh moved smoothly and quickly, caressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and kissing her deeply as he increased the tempo until she was gasping, her skin dewy with exertion and flushed a delicate pink.

She was so beautiful-so his.

Suddenly she arched, gasping his name and quivering. He shuddered as she tightened around him, stroking him with her heat and wetness. The moment seemed to stretch into infinity, his body aching with pleasure. Finally she stilled, gasping, her arms locked about his neck. Holding her close, he released his control and tumbled over the edge of pleasure after her.

A good deal later, Triona opened her eyes again, wincing a little at the tenderness between her legs. Mingled with that tenderness was a glow of sated pa.s.sion that made her smile in deep contentment. So this is what it feels like. No wonder so many poems are written about it!

Beside her she could feel Hugh's deep, even breath, his arm once again over her, his body completely relaxed as he slept.

She smiled and looked around the room-her room now. The bedchamber streamed with sunshine, the rich, jeweled tones of the decor suiting her perfectly-the stream of golden sun as it fell on cobalt blue bed hangings, the bright green and red carpet adorning the floor, and the rich mahogany furniture.

Her favorite piece of furniture was the bed. She smiled again. Lovemaking was a wildly pleasurable affair, and she thought that she and Hugh had done it exceptionally well. The first time had been rather quick, compared to the final two, but she had no complaints other than a deep ache and a bit of stiffness, both of which were oddly pleasant.

She shivered at the memory and carefully extricated herself from the bed, sliding a pillow under Hugh's arm. He shifted slightly, snuggling deeper into the sheets.

He looked so boyish asleep, his lashes enviably long. And this man was her husband. Triona murmured the word "husband" several times, filling her mouth with the taste of it.

Feeling slightly silly, she pulled the covers over him and went to wash in the basin by the bed. To her delight, her clothes had been brought in while they slept and were brushed and pressed and were now hanging neatly in the huge wardrobe. G.o.d bless Mrs. Wallis!

Triona dressed, slipped on her boots, then found her spectacles on a small table beside the washbasin. She settled them onto her nose and took stock of her situation. This morning had been an auspicious beginning for her marriage.

She'd lived through the scandal, the wedding, and the trip to Gilmerton, and now she'd conquered her first few hours as mistress. Except for the faint homesickness, she was quite satisfied with her position. All she needed to do was discover how the house was run, so she could carve out a place for herself until it was time to return home.

Home. Back at Wythburn, her brothers and sisters would be crowded in the breakfast room, laughing and talking of the day's activities. Her parents would have returned and would know of her marriage, and perhaps be concerned about her. I should write them a letter today, and one to grandmother letting her know I am here and arranging a visit. Triona wasn't quite sure where Mam's house was in relation to Gilmerton, but they might be close enough for a day visit.

Feeling better, she glanced about for a desk, wondering where she might find some paper and a pen. Suddenly the skin on the back of her neck p.r.i.c.kled and she turned to find Hugh looking at her, sending an immediate thrill through her.

He pushed himself upright, the sheet falling to his waist as he rubbed his face, then yawned. After stretching, he flashed her a sleepy smile. "Good morning, wife. I trust you slept well."

Triona found that she rather liked that t.i.tle. "Good morning to you, too. I slept like a rock. And you?"

His slow, sensual smile sent a flutter through her stomach that had nothing to do with her hunger.

"Oh, I slept like a rock," he said with rich intimacy. "Because before I went to sleep, you made me as hard as one."

She flashed him a grin, though she suddenly felt all thumbs. She went to the settee where she busied herself with the laces on her half boots. "I know it's early, but I believe it would be beneficial for us to talk about our expectations."

His brows rose, his smile dimming. "Actually, I was going to suggest the same thing, because-" He glanced at the clock. "Good G.o.d, it's almost nine!"

"Yes." Her cheeks heated. "We are late rising."

He threw back the bedclothes, crossed immediately to the window, flicked aside the curtain, and looked out. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, for he gave what sounded like a sigh of relief before going to wash in the basin by his side of the bed.

"Are you expecting someone?"

His dark green gaze flickered her way. "My brother Dougal is returning after breakfast."

"Returning?"

"He was here last night, but you'd already fallen asleep."

"I'm sorry I missed him."

"You'll meet him today. He visits often when his wife is out of town, and she's in Edinburgh for a week or so."

"I look forward to meeting him. Does he look like you?"

"Yes, except he's blond. In each generation, there is always one golden child among us." He tossed his damp hand towel over a rail on the side of the washstand. "I daresay he'll arrive in an hour or so."

MacLean crossed to the wardrobe, comfortable in his nakedness. Triona realized she was staring at her new husband's muscular posterior in an amazingly bold fashion. Cheeks hot, she hastily finished lacing up her half boots, hoping he hadn't noticed.

When she looked up she found, to both her relief and disappointment, that Hugh was nearly dressed. He'd donned brown breeches that tucked neatly into his black riding boots, and was pulling a clean white shirt over his head. A simple cravat hung over the end of the bed.

"Do you not have a valet?" she asked.

"No. I can't stand someone fussing about my things." He tucked in his shirt and slipped the cravat about his neck. With a few flips of the ends and an amazingly quick series of knots, he had it neatly tied. He put on a dark brown waistcoat and pulled a dark blue riding coat from the wardrobe. He caught her gaze. "Do you ride?"

"No. We never had any horses, except two to pull the carriage."

"Ah. We'll have to remedy that."

Triona heard disappointment in his voice. "I've always liked horses, and I would like to learn to ride."

"Good. I'll teach you myself. I ride every day. I must, for I raise horses. That's how I raised the funds to purchase Gilmerton. It took me almost ten years, but I did it. Now I own some of the most productive and coveted herds in Scotland."

Her chest tightened. She'd just been intimate with this man, yet here he was, informing her of the most basic facts about his life. The entire situation was ludicrous and awkward, and yet it was all they had. She forced herself to smile. "What kind of horses do you raise?"

"Beautiful ones. Expensive ones. And rare ones."

She considered this. "Arabians, racehorses, and..." She frowned. "What else?"

He chuckled. "That's very good. The rare ones are my herd of Akhal-Teke. They're Turkish horses bred by tribes. I have ten right now, with several mares ready to foal." He went to one of the large windows on the far wall, threw up the sash, and leaned on the sill to peer into the distant fields. "There they are now. The herd comes to the gates in the morning."

Triona came to stand beside him. In the distance, she could see a small herd of horses gathering by a gate. "Why, they're gold!"

He glinted a smile her way. "They are prized for their golden sheen. I saw one in Italy and decided to breed them. They are wonderful horses. They've carried Turkomen warriors for centuries, and are as agile as greyhounds."

Triona watched as a man approached the gate, pushing a wheelbarrow. The horses pranced and pawed. "They seem very hungry."

"As am I." Hugh looked down at her, his gaze raking over her face and then lower.

Triona was both flattered and disappointed in his perusal. She was flattered by his attention, but disappointed because she knew it was nothing more than pure l.u.s.t. Of course, she wasn't sure she really wanted more than that since his plans for their marriage included shipping her off at the first reasonable moment.

Still, she had a few months in which to leave her mark on Gilmerton Manor and its owner, this incredibly s.e.xy man standing before her. Yet in order to do so, she would need his support. She shot him a look from under her lashes. "Hugh, can we..." It was difficult to explain what she wanted, when she wasn't completely certain herself. "It would be nice if we were partners, as well as man and wife."

His expression lost some of its heat. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Most couples know one another for a time before they decide to wed. We didn't have that luxury. I thought perhaps, to help us ease into this new relationship, we might begin as...I suppose I'd call it friends. People who support one another and help and-oh, I'm not saying this at all well."

"I'm not giving up my rights to you in bed."

She blinked up at him. "I didn't think you would. In fact, I rather enjoyed that aspect myself."

A smug, pleased smile tilted his lips. "I know."

Her cheeks warmed, but she managed a pert sniff. "As did you."

"Oh, yes. I enjoyed every delicious moment. So explain to me what you mean about being partners."