You need to get an heir...

Robert was not sure what expression was showing on his face, but whatever it was, Jack lowered the glass slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"Sorry," he said. "Sensitive subject? Is Lady Lucy already-"

"No," Robert snapped, feeling a sudden urge to punch his cousin.

"Oh," Jack said. "Then-"

"It's a marriage in name only," Robert said, wondering why he was confiding at all, and in Jack, of all people. Maybe he had had too much brandy.

Jack choked on his drink. Robert had to slap him on the back, which he did with considerable satisfaction.

"You're joking," Jack said, coughing, eyes streaming, "or possibly you're mad."

"It's called patience," Robert said, through his teeth. "Not a virtue you are very familiar with."

"I resent that," Jack said. "What on earth were you thinking, though, to make a marriage in name only when you have wanted her from the moment you saw her?"

"Mind your own damned business," Robert said, "or I'll call you out on my wedding night."

Jack sighed, draining his glass. "I have to believe that you know what you are doing, for the sake of Methven."

"I do," Robert said.

"Good," Jack said. He jerked his head toward the door. "Now go and play chess with your new wife or whatever it is that people do when they are married in name only."

They went out together, Jack back to the wedding party, Robert into the inn and up the darkened stairs. He rubbed a hand over his hair. He felt tired and his head ached as though he had had too much ale. He went into his chamber, which was all in darkness, and splashed water on his face, then stood in the window embrasure, leaning his palms on the stone, staring out to sea.

He knew he had to keep his word and return to Golden Isle, but tonight he did not want to think about it anymore. He wanted Lucy. He needed her.

He opened the door of his chamber. A light still showed beneath the door of Lucy's room opposite. He knocked and then pushed open the door.

Much to his surprise, Lucy was still awake. She was sitting up in bed prim and neat in a white nightgown that he saw with amusement was fastened up to her throat. She was reading a slim leather-bound volume.

Robert grinned. She looked exactly as he would have expected, very proper and respectable in a manner that should have forbidden him to touch her. Unfortunately the very laced-up neatness of her made him want to unlace her at once and tumble her on the bed. Except that he had promised he would not and he was a gentleman of his word.

She looked up from the book, pushing the hair back from her face. It rippled like autumn leaves in the pale light and he itched to touch it, to bury his face in its silken softness, as he had from the first moment he had seen her.

"I thought you would be asleep," he said gruffly. "It's been a long day and you looked tired throughout it."

He saw Lucy bite her lip and wished the words unsaid. They were not a particularly tactful compliment to his bride, whom he had thought looked beautiful and gracious-and strained. Nor had he made matters easy for her at the wedding feast. He was painfully aware of that. Being reminded of Golden Isle and the way he had failed in his obligation to the people there had set him in a dour mood, and everyone had felt the ill effects of that.

He wished he had not agreed to her terms. He wanted to take her now and lose himself in the taking, savoring her sweetness, letting it wash the darkness from his soul. He did not want to think about the past. But even more he did not want to dwell on what he could not have. He needed to woo his bride with tenderness, to overcome her fears, not tumble her with no care for her feelings. His headache gripped his temples more tightly.

"You were all that was charming," he hastened to add, knowing he had sounded like a gauche boy. "I merely meant-"

"I was nervous." Lucy laid the book aside and spoke simply. Her eyes, when they met his, were clear blue with candor. He understood then and felt a rush of protectiveness.

"I promised I'd not hurt you," he said. The words came out more roughly than he had intended.

Her eyes widened. "I know that." Now, suddenly, she sounded every inch a duke's daughter. "I trust your word. But there is more to marriage than what happens in our bedchamber." Her gaze fell. She plucked at the edge of the blanket. "I am not sure I know how to be a wife," she said. "I have had so little time to prepare."

Robert sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. "You know as much as I," he said. "I have no more experience of being a husband than you do of being a wife."

A tiny smile touched her lips. "I suppose not," she said.

"I was concentrating so hard on finding my bride I never thought about what happened after the wedding," Robert said. He was not quite sure why he was being so honest with her. Such a baring of his soul was hardly natural to him and yet her frankness deserved equal honesty.

Her smile grew. "I had not imagined you would be nervous, as well."

"I'm terrified," Robert said promptly.

"Dear me," Lucy said. She sounded demure. "You will forgive me if I find that hard to believe. I cannot see that you frighten easily."

"I have thought of a way you might help me, however," Robert said.

"Indeed?" Her eyebrows arched.

"I want to stay here with you tonight," Robert said softly.

Wariness flared instantly in her eyes, quenching that flame of amusement. "But you said-"

He pressed a finger to her lips and she fell silent. "It's all right," he said. "You have nothing to fear. I only want to be with you." He was shocked to find himself within an ace of begging her. He knew he did not want to be alone. He knew he needed her.

"Please," he said.

Lucy did not look entirely convinced. Robert leaned forward and kissed her very gently. Her lips felt impossibly soft and plush, yielding to his. His body hardened with arousal.

She did not recoil from the kiss, but nor did she respond. He could feel the uncertainty in her and the fear. She trusted him, but that trust was on a knife edge and he could not betray it no matter how, in this moment, he was cursing his sense of honor. There were, however, other ways to deepen the intimacy between them until she was ready to consummate their marriage. She would never overcome her fears if they maintained a proper distance. Instead they would drift further and further apart until they became isolated strangers. He was not going to allow that to happen.

He pulled off his boots and tossed them aside. She was watching him, her blue eyes troubled. He shrugged himself out of his jacket and pulled the shirt over his head. Now her eyes were as huge as dinner plates as her gaze rested on his bare torso.

"You've got brothers," Robert said, to lighten the tension. "Surely you must have seen a man in a state of undress."

"When we were young," Lucy said. "But they didn't look like you." Her voice sounded slightly husky. "Lachlan is skinny and Angus is lumpen. They don't have...uh...muscles." She pulled her gaze away from his chest, blinking as though she had stepped into sudden daylight. Robert liked her surprise. It made him feel like a god.

The breeches, though, would have to stay for now. He had no intention of taking her beyond surprise and into shock.

He blew out the candle and slid into the bed beside her. He felt her shift a few decorous inches away from him and bit his lip to smother a grin.

"There is plenty of room for both of us," he said. It was not actually true. The bed was small. The cotton sleeve of her nightshirt brushed his bare arm. Farther down, her hip was wedged against his and her bare thigh was warm against the material of his breeches. He gritted his teeth.

They lay like effigies for minutes. He could hear her breathing, quick and shallow. She was as rigid as a statue.

She shifted a few inches farther and he grabbed her arm to prevent her rolling off the high mattress completely. He braced himself on one elbow above her and gently smoothed the hair away from her face. Her skin was like silk, so soft, so tempting. Oh, he should not do this. He had intended only for her to become accustomed to sharing a bed with him, nothing more, but desire drove him hard.

"If I promise to take it no further," he said, "will you kiss me?" He hoped she could not tell from his voice how much he wanted her to agree. He was sure she could.

Her breath fluttered. Her breasts rose, brushing the side of his chest. She made a little sound of assent in her throat that made his cock harden further in an instant. Best that she did not know that or very likely she would leap from the bed, never mind roll out of it.

Robert touched his lips to hers again. This time, after the initial hesitation, they warmed beneath his, moved and parted. Hot lust rolled through him like the tide. He reined it in with iron control and instead of kissing her to within an inch of her life, he drew back.

She was looking at him as though he were some sort of complex puzzle she could not quite decipher. She raised a hand to his cheek and rubbed her fingers experimentally against the roughness of his skin. Robert closed his eyes and tried not to groan.

This time she was the one who tentatively kissed him, stealing a hand about the nape of his neck and bringing his lips down to hers. She was a little clumsy and unpracticed, but he let her explore, feeling the curiosity behind her anxiety, willing her to let it free. Her tongue slid between his lips, tasted him and discovered him. Such innocent exploration was so arousing he thought he might explode, but somehow he managed not.

"All right?" he murmured as their lips parted.

She blinked. Her eyes were a sleepy blue.

"Kissing you is nice," she whispered. "That is what worries me."

"Don't worry," Robert said. "Don't worry at all."

A faint shadow came into her eyes. "I think you are trying to seduce me," she said.

"Not yet," Robert said, hoping it was true. He smiled. "You have my word."

She nodded. He saw her relax. The third kiss was so good it almost undid all his honorable intentions once and for all, sweet, exciting, hot, full of endless promise. He drew back, watching her, the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the fine lawn of the nightgown, the hot color of arousal in her cheeks. This time she did not open her eyes.

The room was sinking into twilight. Downstairs the wedding feast was rolling on, the guests roaring out songs now, the thunder of feet beating on the floor as they danced.

Robert put out a hand and pulled the ribbon at the neck of the nightgown. The smooth silk slipped between his shaking fingers. He bent his lips to the exposed hollow of her throat and curled his tongue against the warm saltiness of her skin. Lucy made a little sound but kept quite still. Robert felt strung out like a wire, wound tighter than he had ever believed possible. Very slowly and carefully he edged the linen from her shoulders and kissed the shadows above her collarbone, the curve of her neck, the little dip beneath her ear, before returning to the base of her throat where the pulse hammered against his lips.

Her lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened.

"That's nice," she whispered. "Thank you."

She sounded so polite. It made him smile. It also made him want to ravish her, ruthlessly and impolitely. Once again he held back.

"It can be nicer," he said. "But we will wait for that."

He wondered if he had imagined the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She had said that she was not afraid of intimacy itself, and he could see that was true. It was the consequences of passion that frightened her.

He kissed her again. Again she responded with trust and openness and a sweet eagerness that almost drove him over the edge.

Just a little more...

He drew the nightgown down a little farther so that he could press his lips to the hollow between her breasts. It was deliciously warm and soft, and her skin smelled of lavender and roses. He could see her nipples taut against the thin cover of the silk night rail. The lust roared through him and he drew back abruptly.

"Enough," he said, "unless I am to perjure myself already."

Her eyes opened. She looked puzzled for a moment; then understanding dawned and she blushed.

"Do you wish to go back to your own chamber?" she asked.

"No," Robert said, praying for self-control. "I want to stay here with you."

She nodded and closed her eyes. She released her breath on a little sigh, then curled herself into the curve of his shoulder and protecting arm. Her body pressed softly, sweetly, against his.

Dear God. Robert knew he should be glad she had such unquestioning trust in him, but he wondered, half despairing, if every night he spent with Lucy would be passed in this state of helpless arousal. With a sigh that was a great deal more frustrated than hers had been, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

He was still hovering on the edge of wakefulness a couple of hours later when Lucy's scream pulled him wide-awake. His hand was halfway to his dirk before he realized that it was no intruder but a nightmare that had disturbed her. He rolled over to look at her. She was lying on her back, panting hard, her eyes wide. Her skin was sheened with sweat and when he touched her she felt feverish, her face burning, her hands ice cold. He tried to draw her toward him, but for a moment she fought him, resisting his comfort.

"It's all right." He spoke softly to her, as to a child, soothing her. "It was a bad dream, nothing more. You're safe with me."

Her gaze flickered to his face. He saw despair in her eyes.

"Alice," she said.

He had guessed as much. She had said that she experienced nightmares. He could not expect them to be banished so quickly. He repressed the quick pang of anger and despondency he felt that her fears had resurfaced so soon. It was a sign that she was afraid of her marriage, terrified at the prospect of needing to provide an heir. But he could not let the despair take him too. He was certainly not going to give up now, when they had barely begun.

Gently, carefully, he drew her back into the shelter of his arms. He could feel her shivering and used his body to warm hers. Gradually the shaking ceased, she relaxed and her body grew soft next to his again.

"Thank you," she whispered. He caught the glint of tears on her cheek and brushed them away with the pad of his thumb.

"Go back to sleep," he whispered.

He held her until she did.

IT WAS STRANGE waking up with a man in her bed. It felt unfamiliar and awkward. Lucy woke as pale early-morning light was sliding beneath the shutters and pooling in the room. The nightmare had fled, driven out by Robert's gentleness and the warmth of his body. She remembered drifting off to sleep in his arms. She felt oddly peaceful inside.

For a moment she lay still, absorbing the strangeness of the situation and then she rolled over to look at her husband. He was asleep, the covers low on his hips, one bronzed arm resting across her body possessively. In the gray light she could see the perfection of his musculature, like one of the marble statues in the library at Forres. Except that Robert was warm and living and strong, and she wanted very much to touch him, not with the detached interest she had felt for those cold sculptures but with curiosity and greed.

She felt sensation stir inside her and in that moment remembered Robert's kisses and caresses of the previous night. She had been tired and nervous and wound as tightly as a spindle, but she had trusted him and he had not broken his word. She shivered a little as she remembered his lips drifting across her skin. She raised a hand to her throat and traced the path they had taken. Last night she had been almost too exhausted and afraid to be aroused. Almost. The desire had still stirred in her, though. And this morning it was sharper, keener. She felt awake and wanting in some way she did not understand.

Following an impulse she did not want to resist, she placed the palm of her hand on Robert's chest, over his heart. His skin felt warm and firm. She wanted to press her lips against him and see what he tasted like. The thought was a shocking one. It made her jump inside. She leaned closer, studying his face, the fan of tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, the long thick lashes, the hard slash of his cheekbone. There was stubble darkening his cheek and jaw. It looked rough. She was fascinated. She had never been so close to a man before, not like this.

His hand came up, trapping hers against his chest. His lashes flickered open, his eyes a deep dark blue. He smiled, a sleepy smile that made something quicken and tumble in Lucy's chest.

"Good morning," he said softly.

His hand tangled in her hair, drawing her down to kiss him. "It is too early to get up," he whispered against her lips. "Everyone is still asleep."

It was true that the inn was still quiet. Lucy found herself whispering too.

"What shall we do, then?"

Robert smiled. He drew her down into the warmth of the bed and started to kiss her again as he had the previous night, long, slow kisses that felt sweet and languorous and filled her body with a heavy heat. It felt different to be doing this in the light of morning, more wicked, more sensual still. Lucy's senses were flooded with the taste of him and the scent of his skin. It mingled with the faded lavender of the bedclothes and made her head spin with longing and need. He kissed her for a long time; she lost track of time and place and everything except for him, the heat of his body, the touch of his hands and mouth on her, the essence of him. When she finally broke away, dizzy and racked with desire, she found that her nightgown had slid from her shoulders above and was wrapped about her thighs below and it felt too tight, heavy and imprisoning and she wanted to be free of it.

There was a great deal that she wanted.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Robert was stroking her cheek. His fingers felt cool, whilst she felt as though she was burning up.

"No," she said crossly. "I want..."