They squashed together on the seat, Kate in the middle, and headed off briskly down the lane. The sun was a deep fiery red now and the shadows of houses and trees lay long and dark across the road.

He pointed to a solid square house near the road. "The Grailings. My family home."

Soon they turned in between gates to wind up a driveway toward a larger, less organized house.

Marchmont Hall. The center was probably Jacobean, but two wings had been added more recently. Not a particularly elegant house, but with charm.

Kate couldn't imagine it as her home, however.

"I know nothing of managing such a large establishment," she told him.

"That's the least of our worries, love."

And there, she supposed, he was right.

Back by the fence he'd swept her into his madness, but now all the problems were crowding back to harry her. There was no retreat, though. Like a ruthless officer, he'd made sure of that.

Did raw recruits facing the flash and fire of enemy muskets feel this spurt of anger at their charismatic leader?

He drew the gig up before the gleaming mahogany doors and a groom ran from the side of the house to a.s.sist him. Jess climbed out by herself, but Charles insisted on helping Kate down. He kept hold of her unsteady hands. "The only way out of this is through, Kate. Up and at 'em."

"Have you ever lost a battle?"

"Yes."

"You could lose this one."

"We can't lose, Kate, as long as we have each other."

"That's simply not true. And what about Stephen?"

"He'll win, too. I promise."

"How?"

"Trust me, Kate?"

d.a.m.n him, he'd found a new weapon-a genuine appeal in his eyes. What could she say but, "Yes, I trust you."

She allowed him to lead her into the house.

It was not, she knew, a spectacularly grand house, but it was finer than any she'd been in. The door opened into a s.p.a.cious tiled hall whose walls were darkly paneled and hung with a.s.sorted weaponry arranged in decorative wheels and lines.

When Jess had been introduced to the housekeeper and sent off to the servants' quarters, Kate looked around at the swords and pistols. "Expecting an armed a.s.sault, are you?"

He smiled at her. "At least we're ready for the Jacobites."

That gave them something rational to talk about as he led her up wide stairs to the second floor. "I must introduce you to my uncle."

"And what does he think of me?"

He stopped by one of a line of panelled doors. "He's still grieving for Tom. I don't think he cares much about anything."

Kate's resistance melted. What an appalling homecoming this must have been for him. His mother and sisters expected the worst, and his uncle must see him as a poor subst.i.tute for a beloved son.

Then she wondered if summoning her sympathy was an officer's trick, too.

He pushed open the door and gestured her into a small sitting room furnished in heavy, dark brown brocade. An old man sat hunched near the fire looking older than sixty. He turned, showing a lined, weary face and straggly sliver hair. "What is it?" At the sight of a stranger he made the effort to stand.

Charles immediately hurried forward to settle him again. "Don't disturb yourself, uncle. I just wanted to introduce you to my wife. I didn't expect her so soon, but she surprised me."

Lord Jerrold's eyes were dark, too, she noticed, and when they fixed on her she thought they might once have had his nephew's intensity. She went forward and curtsied. "Good evening, my lord."

"Got a beauty at least, didn't you, lad? And she looks a lady."

"She is a lady."

Kate stiffened her spine. "In the sense of good manners, I am, yes. But I am also the daughter of a bookseller in Aylesbury, Lord Jerrold. And not the least ashamed of it."

A crack of laughter escaped the viscount. "I suppose a man like you needs a filly with spirit. Is she fertile?"

Kate gaped, but Charles merely said, "Kate has a son. We'll have to see if we can repeat the miracle." Charles gave Kate a sideways glance that made her toes curl.

"That's the main thing. Sons. And don't forget to name your first son Tom. You promised."

"I won't forget," Charles said, gently. "I want to show Kate to her room now, uncle."

"Aye, you do that. And see she has everything she needs." He then sank back on himself, once more staring into the flames.

Charles led her out of the room and further along the corridor. "If you wish, you can choose from five spare rooms, but I suggest this one." He led her into a pleasant chamber with cream damask curtains and hangings. "It conveniently adjoins mine. However, the sheets are doubtless not aired, so ..."

Kate found herself in his bedroom with the door firmly shut behind them.

The hangings here were blue, and only a riding crop on a table and a book by the bed showed any sign of occupancy.

"I don't have a fire lit in this mild weather. I will if you wish, but I can think of better ways to keep warm."

Kate clutched her cloak around her as if she were, in truth, cold. "You are brash, sir."

"I am bold. I want you, and I intend to have you, Kate."

"Whether I am willing or no?"

He flinched as if she'd hit him. "Of course not! Are you unwilling?"

She turned away, for he could so easily weaken her. "I don't know. I came here to talk to you."

"What good will talk do? Is there some aspect of our problems that I haven't considered? I doubt it. The only thing of importance is whether you love me and want me."

"That's childish talk."

He turned her to face him, to face those intense, compelling eyes and the leashed vitality that could overwhelm armies. "Kate, this isn't just any love. As soon as I saw you, I knew. You walked into the camp on Dennis's arm, smiling up at him. It was a cool, sunny day and you were wearing something pale. Bone-colored with braid. Everyone stopped to look because new people always stirred interest. Everyone kept looking because you were so d.a.m.n beautiful. I looked and I felt sick. I knew at that moment, and I knew I couldn't have you. I knew I was going to have to watch you with another man. See you kiss him. See you going into his tent together at night." His hands tightened on her shoulders. "Tents don't cut off sound, you know."

She did know. She'd always tried to be quiet, but Dennis liked noise. She'd come to realize that he liked to show off and it had always embarra.s.sed her. She remembered a number of occasions when she'd caught Captain Tennant looking at them as they headed for the tent, or in better days, toward a room in a billet. She'd felt even more uncomfortable then.

She covered her hot cheeks, but he pulled her hands down.

"We have our chance, Kate. The only thing that will make me lay down my arms and retreat is if you tell me you want to be free."

Reason told Kate to keep resisting, but everything else surrendered to the power of his hunger for her, and her need of him.

"I watched you, too. I can't say I noticed you that first day, but once I did, I was always aware of you. It bothered me.

I thought it was just that you're the sort of man people notice. After all, I was married. I couldn't be so aware of another man."

He pulled her against him. "Ah, Kate. But now we're married. You're supposed to be aware of me." He looked down into her eyes, cradling her face. "We have the moon and the stars, beloved one, but I need to make it full and complete. Somewhat desperately," he added, making her burst out laughing.

Doubts lingered, but Kate pushed them back. She wanted him as desperately as he wanted her, and they were married.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped back out of his arms, unhooked her cloak, and let it slide to the floor. When he reached for her, she held up a hand to stop him. Then she unfastened the two b.u.t.tons at the waist of her overgown and slipped it off her arms. That joined the cloak, leaving her just in two petticoats and her corset over her simple cotton shift.

Watching her fixedly, he leaned back against the bulbous post of his bed. "I've been running mad this past half year, Kate, thinking you'd managed to disappear off the earth."

"I'm sorry. It never occurred to me that you didn't know my name and my hometown." She untied her petticoat laces and the top quilted one slid away. "I didn't talk of them because I knew my parents would be devastated to hear of my living as a soldier's kept woman. But I think I expected you to know all about me by miracle." The second petticoat of red flannel fell, leaving her just in corset, knee-length shift, and stockings.

He stayed still, though she could see his chest rise and fall and his cheeks were flushed.

He swallowed before he spoke, but his voice was still husky. "I've hired people to search for you. I've been waiting for Jess to return to the Buffs. I didn't expect her to stick it out so d.a.m.n long ..."

Since Kate and her mother didn't employ a personal maid, she wore corsets she could get into and out of herself. Her hands trembled, though, as she unfastened the hooks, for the power of his need was beating against her like the fierce heat of an oven and this did seem the last bastion of decency.

The fact that he'd seen her without a corset before didn't help at all.

When she opened the corset and shrugged out of it, he groaned. A giggle escaped her and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry."

He was grinning, even if his eyes seemed to burn. "Don't be. I'm in a state of the most delicious agony."

She expected him to seize her then, but instead he wrenched bra.s.s b.u.t.tons out of holes and dragged off his jacket. As he tore off his waistcoat, one b.u.t.ton actually popped and rolled away. By instinct Kate scrambled to trap it before it was lost. When she stood he was laughing.

"Oh, Kate! I adore you."

Then she was in his arms, and his shirt-covered torso was wonderfully familiar. "I like you in your shirt, Captain..."

"Back in memories, are we, love?" He tugged on her hair so she had to look up at him. "Am I not allowed to take it off then?"

"Are you saying you are mine to command?"

"Always."

"I'll remind you of that at inconvenient moments, sir.

"Ah, Kate." Rough-light, he traced the right corner of her mouth. "That smile. I've longed for that smile. Command me. Command me to kiss you and love you and make heaven with you : .."

Despite tears in her eyes, Kate said, "You are so commanded, Major Charles Tennant."

Kate had never been kissed like this before-to the edge of pain, to the edge of breaking, to the edge of ecstasy just from a kiss. As they landed on the bed she heard cloth rip and had no idea if it was hers or his.

His mouth and hands roamed her, not gently but with tight-held control so she feared he'd break. So she met him in fierceness, using nails and teeth until he did break and was in her, deep in her, shuddering, hot, heavy, hard.

Wonderful.

She choked on a cry and moved before he did. He laughed, though it turned into a groan as he met her hips. Then they pounded together as if eternally practiced in the rhythm, losing it together as o.r.g.a.s.m gripped them. Collapsing together in a shuddering, sweaty tangle of perfectly matched limbs.

Kate sprawled on her back, one arm over her eyes, mind scoured clear of all but one thought. "It's never been like that before. Never. That fierce ..."

His hand moved to rest with simple possession over her left breast. "It's never been like that for me, either, Kate. I'm a big man. I'm usually very careful. I a.s.sure you, I can be gentle in season."

She moved her arm to smile at him. "I'm sure you can. So can I. But I'm a strong woman. I can take it. You..."

"We're made for each other."

"Yes, I really think we are." But thought was returning. "That doesn't mean we don't have problems."

He moved his hand to cover her lips. "For tonight, it does. Let's try gentle .. ."

And he proved to her that he could be gentle in season, stroking and teasing until she was a puddle of sweet need, which he amply fulfilled. In turn, much later, she loved him in turn, delighting in reducing the mighty officer to a man conquered by desire.

It was mid-morning when they acknowledged the new day.

Kate sat up in bed and knew her hair was a tangled mess, and that her pins could be anywhere. She gazed around at a scene from a wild debauch. Clothes draped the room as if a whirlwind had pa.s.sed through, and her shift was completely ripped down the front. One of her stockings draped from the top bar of the four-poster bed!

The bed-coverings must have worked loose in their activities and been pulled around them again, for they were all hanging at odds, and mostly trailing on the floor.

She leapt out of bed and began to straighten things.

"What are you doing?"

She turned, his waistcoat in her hand, to see him sitting up in bed, smiling at her.

Naked, his shoulders seemed to span half the bed, rounded and contoured with muscle. Dark hair feathered his strong chest, disappearing into the disordered bedclothes that covered his hips and most of his legs. His long hair straggled onto his shoulders, as unkempt as hers, and a dark shadow marked his cheeks.

Never had a man looked so beautiful to a woman.

"You can eat me if you want," he said with a very tempting smile. "It would be more to the purpose than what you're doing."

"You must be worn out! Or should be."