He laughed. "We can't do that."

How provoking. The hot, heavy weight of demand inside her almost made her drive her clenched fists into the mattress in frustration. Why did her body have to torment her when her mind would not let her be free? For a moment she seesawed between longing and fear; for a moment it seemed the sweet need might actually win, but then the scales tipped and the familiar fear swept back, like a steel trap, tightening, draining away all the pleasure until she was left desolate and empty again.

She bit her lip hard. She would not cry.

With a sudden burst of energy, she threw back the covers and stood up. Anything rather than lie here and feel that dark tide sweep in to claim her.

"I am getting up," she said.

"Come back to bed." Robert's voice had deepened. Lucy shivered again, this time not entirely from cold or fear. "No really, I-"

"We need to talk." He was propped on one elbow now, deliciously rumpled. She felt a little pang of longing. He looked so handsome and so ruffled. Her heart seemed to squeeze tight with happiness and pain, inextricably linked. She edged toward the door, then remembered that they were in her chamber and realized she had nowhere to run.

"I don't think-"

"You're frightened." He spoke flatly, denying her the chance to pretend. "I understand. But all will be well now, Lucy." There was gentleness in his eyes. It made her want to cry. "I'll look after you." She wanted to believe him. She wanted it so much. And when she could not she felt her heart shrivel with despair.

"Lucy." Robert was holding out a hand to her. "Come here."

She could not. For a moment she was absolutely frozen with fear and misery.

Suddenly she knew she had to escape, from the intimacy of the room and the look in Robert's eyes, from the panic that filled her chest and stole her breath. Memories pressed too close, frightening her. Her defenses felt so fragile now. Something was changing, but she was not quite sure what it was.

"I have things to do," she said desperately. "Shopping... I need to pack a bag... Mairi can help me."

"I doubt you will find the Findon shops occupy you for more than an hour," Robert said. He sighed, pushing back the covers, standing up.

"My reputation will never survive the knowledge that my bride was out of bed so early the morning after the wedding," he said dryly as he bent to retrieve his shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. He came across to her and kissed her again, thoroughly, unhurriedly, so that she could feel the desire beating beneath the gentleness.

"We can't go back, Lucy," he said fiercely, against her lips. "I won't let us." He dropped his hands from her shoulders and strode from the room.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"YOU ARE UP EARLY." Jack strolled into the breakfast parlor, where Robert had just finished his meal, and glanced ostentatiously at the clock. "Well, you did tell me it was a match of convenience, I suppose." He slid into a seat and reached for the coffeepot. "You look rough," he added, with mock sympathy. "Uncomfortable night?"

Robert glared at him. "I'm up early because there is much to do before we are ready to sail for Golden Isle."

Jack grinned, unabashed. "Of course. And all of it more important than seducing your wife."

Robert threw down his paper with a bad-tempered slap. "I told you last night to mind your own damned business," he growled. He stood up. "You'll find me at the harbor. When you have stopped wasting time."

He went out. The May morning was bitterly chill, but he welcomed the cold. It helped to clear his head and subdue other parts of his body. He liked the early morning when the light was still rising and the air was fresh. It was a time he had always relished.

It was a time that now gave him the chance to think about Lucy. As he strode through the quiet streets of the awakening town, he thought of the way she had responded to his kisses, the way she had kissed him back, and touched him with innocent curiosity and delight. She had been half-seduced, until her memories had turned her cold and driven her from the bed. He had seen how it had happened, watched her withdraw into herself and reerect all the barriers she had used to protect herself in the past. Well, he was going to tear down those walls. He could not allow the tragedy of the past to destroy their future.

As he turned the corner down to the quayside, the wind buffeted him fiercely. It had chased all the clouds away, and out to sea he could see Golden Isle floating on the horizon. He squared his shoulders. He had married Lucy to save his inheritance, and the isle was a part of that. The previous night he had been brought hard and fast to see his responsibilities. He would not shirk them now.

He spent all day at the quayside loading provisions for the voyage, talking further to McCall about conditions on Golden Isle and discussing with Jack the plan to lure Wilfred Cardross into a trap.

Eventually, when the cold sun had sunk behind the mountains to the west, he walked back to the inn with Jack, aware of exhaustion in his limbs, conscious that he had pushed himself to the extreme of physical exertion in order to block out all else.

One look at Lucy was sufficient to bring back every one of those frustrations.

She was sitting in the firelit parlor, talking in a low voice to her sister as they finished their evening meal together. They had evidently been shopping, for Lucy was wearing a new gown. Even Robert, not precisely versed in the ways of fashion, could see that it became her tremendously. It was a rich, deep brown, threaded with gold, with a low neckline that framed in pretty white lace the upper curve of her breasts. Her red hair was piled up on her head, but tendrils escaped to curl against her neck. It looked as though she had been painted in autumn colors, vivid and bright. Unlike the previous day, when she had been pale and strained in her wedding gown, now she glowed, her eyes a deep sapphire blue in the shadows.

Beside him, he heard Jack give a low whistle of appreciation. Lady Mairi, Robert thought, looked as though she welcomed that as little as he did. He gave Jack a glare while Mairi stood up in a rustle of silk.

"You are back at last," she said, her tone making it clear that she thought Robert had shamefully neglected his bride. "You must forgive us for taking dinner without you. We were hungry."

She slipped past them, taking care to keep as much distance from Jack as she could, even, Robert was amused to see, moving her skirts carefully out of the way so that they did not brush against him. A moment later Jack seemed to pull himself together with a jerk and walked off after her. Robert closed the door behind them.

Lucy had got to her feet too. For all her elegance, the expression in her eyes was uncertain. Robert remembered the previous night, when she had told him she did not know how to be a wife, and felt a pang of tenderness.

"There is plenty of the beef left," she offered. "If you are hungry."

Robert was starving, but there was something he preferred to do first. He crossed the room to her, caught her in his arms and kissed her. He sensed the surprise in her and the slightest hint of resistance. Then she made a startled sound in the back of her throat and he felt that resistance melt and she kissed him back.

It was almost enough to make him forswear his dinner in the need to take her upstairs and make love to her. With an effort he hauled himself back from the brink and released her. Hell, if he gave in to his desires, he would terrify her anew and the small amount of progress they had made would be completely undone.

"I should wash too," he said gruffly, "and eat."

She nodded. Her cheeks were rosy red, her eyes bright as stars. She chewed her bottom lip between her teeth, watching him. Robert smothered a groan as he felt his body tighten to near intolerable tension. He groped for the doorknob, needing to put distance between them.

"I'll just..." He waved a hand vaguely, reversing from the room, almost colliding with Isobel, who was coming the other way with a tray of food. He apologized, cursing himself for a clumsy fool. One way and another, his wife was tying him in knots.

He could see Lucy looking at him, a tiny frown between her eyebrows, as though she was worried about him.

"Are you feeling quite all right?" She took a step toward him, reaching out. He jerked back from her.

"Nothing that some hot food will not remedy."

Her hand fell to her side. "Of course." She smiled at Isobel, dropped him a flawless curtsy and went out.

Robert ran a hand through his hair, cursing himself anew. He would far rather Lucy had stayed to talk to him even if there had been a danger he would have fallen on her rather than on his meal. Now he had upset her, confused her perhaps. Truth was, he was feeling so very on edge himself that he was doing nothing to reassure her.

He threw himself down into his seat and attacked the beef bad-temperedly. Who knew that this marriage business would be so damned difficult?

LUCY PACED HER bedchamber. Mairi had helped her to change for bed-in the absence of a maid they helped each other-and now she was wishing she had asked her sister to stay. Any company would have been welcome. She had picked up her book and tried to read again, but the words seemed to make no sense. She could not concentrate. All she could think was that she had no idea why Robert had kissed her so deliciously and then backed away from her as quickly.

That morning he had sworn he would not allow her to place barriers between the two of them, and although she was trembling inside, she had been willing enough to try to make a leap of faith. For the sake of her marriage and the future of the Methven estates, she knew they could not live locked into separate, barren existences. She could feel a tiny part of her heart opening each day, shedding a hint of light. She trusted Robert not to hurt her. That was a start. So she had been prepared for him to come to her tonight and to take things a little further than they had done before. And then he had flinched from her as though she were a plague carrier.

Men. She had absolutely no understanding of them, and at the current rate of progress she would never have any.

She heard steps on the stair and jumped to her feet. The floorboards creaked on the landing; she heard the low exchange of words as Robert bid good-night to his cousin. She waited. She realized she was holding her breath.

The door of the room opposite closed, the latch dropping with a decisive click. There was silence. Lucy sat down again in the armchair. She could hear nothing but the ticking of the clock on the chest and the crackle of the fire, loud in her ears. Her fingers dug into the velvet of the arms as she waited, as the tension ratcheted up inside her. Time passed. Her bare feet grew chilled. He was not going to come to her. He was not even going to bid her good-night.

Quickly, before she could think, before she allowed herself to be afraid, she banked down the fire and grabbed the candle from the stand. She opened the door and stepped out onto the landing. Chill draughts wreathed about her ankles and set her shivering. She tiptoed across the landing and knocked lightly on the door of Robert's chamber and, without waiting for a summons, walked in.

He was sprawled in the chair before the fire, a glass of brandy at his elbow. He looked up at her and he did not smile. Decidedly he was not pleased to see her.

This was a mistake.

The frightened kick of her heart almost sent her straight back through the open door, but some imp of stubbornness drove her on instead.

"You did not come to bid me good-night," she said. She shut the door, placed the candle carefully on the dresser. "Only this morning you said you would fight for a future for us, yet now you shun me."

There was a silence so long that for a moment she thought he was not going to answer her. Then his gaze lifted to hers. It was a very bright, glittering blue. She wondered if he was drunk, and her heart skipped a whole beat.

"I am trying," he growled, "to respect your wishes and not ravish you to within an inch of your life." His gaze swept over her, insolent, appraising, and she became acutely aware of her bare feet and the tendrils of hair escaping from her long, thick plait.

"It is difficult, however," he continued, in an even tone, "when you appear in my bedchamber in no more than a transparent nightgown."

"Oh." The color burned her cheeks. She felt like a naive fool. "I see."

"Yes," he mocked. "And I apologize for finding you so entirely irresistible. It is making my life hell." He stood up. Lucy took an instinctive step back. That checked him. One dark eyebrow rose. She realized he was not drunk, and the relief swept through her leaving her weak.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'll go now." But she did not move.

He waited, giving her plenty of time to decide while her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. And still she did not move. She could not take her gaze from his face, the expression so hard, carved from granite. It did not frighten her now. She knew that behind that strength lay a tenderness that made her heart ache.

It took him only two strides to cross the space between them and take her in his arms, and when he did she gave a gasp of relief as she pressed closer to him, her arms going around him and straining him closer still.

"Why are you staying?" He spoke softly, against her hair.

"Because we promised to try..." She was shaking. "Because I want to be with you. Because I trust you."

He held her a little away from him. His eyes were gentle. "I won't make love to you, Lucy," he said. "It's too soon. You are not ready."

She knew that he was right. She wanted him, but it was not enough to banish the memories that hovered like dark wings about her mind. It was not enough to eradicate the fear. Not yet.

"I know," she said. A part of her wanted nothing more than for him to ravish her completely, but she did not want to regret it later. "But last night..." She stopped, remembering what he had said about finding her irresistible. She was asking too much of him, testing his control beyond anything that was fair. She might know little of men, but she did know that.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "It isn't fair to you. I didn't realize."

He scooped her up then and laid her down on the bed, coming down beside her, pulling her into his arms.

"Damn it all," he said, his breath tickling her ear, "I'd still rather you stayed with me, fair or not."

SO HE WAS a fool. Robert looked down at his wife lying on the bed beside him and knew he was in for another night of frustration and discomfort. Yet it was a small price to pay. Lucy had reached out to him. For the first time she had come to him freely. The realization that she was prepared to entrust herself to him made his heart bound. If it meant that eventually he could drive out the darkness inside her and replace it with light and hope, it had been worth it-even if he expired of thwarted desire in the process. There were no guarantees in life; he knew that better than anyone, but he was determined that Lucy's life would not be blighted by fear.

He reached out and took the ribbon that tied her plait between his finger and thumb, tugging on the end of it, loosening the bow. He started to unravel the plait, working with concentrated intent, running his fingers through her hair as he had always longed to do. It was as soft and silky as he had imagined, rippling through his hands like burnished fire. The color, the texture, fascinated him.

Lucy lay still, her eyes dark and wide as she watched him. Eventually he consciously gave in to the impulse to lower his head and kiss her, and she shifted on the bed and made a noise of surrender in her throat, as though she had been waiting only for this moment. The touch of her mouth was sweet and hot, branding him. He was already hard, but he held his control in an iron grip and grimly told himself that it was good to discover reserves of restraint he had no idea he possessed.

Leaving her briefly, he divested himself of his jacket, shirt and boots as he had done the previous night. This time when he came back to her, she reached eagerly for him, running her hands over his bare shoulders, his arms and back, exploring him. Robert gritted his teeth and allowed her free rein. Her touch was full of an innocent curiosity that was as tempting as it was beguiling.

"So smooth. So hot." Her voice was a whisper. Her hand slid across his stomach, just above the band of his trousers, and his cock jumped. He caught her wrist in a tight grip.

"Enough," he said. "Unless you want to test my honor too far and prove me a liar."

She blinked, her eyes opening wide. "Oh." She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and he almost groaned aloud. Instead he kissed her again, sliding his tongue into her mouth, exploring her deeply, until she was shifting restlessly against the sheets, her hands moving over him in urgent, restless caresses.

He drew back. The shutters were not closed and in the blue of half-light she looked tumbled and tempting and ripe for ravishment. Her eyes were slumberous with passion, her lips parted, her breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath the shimmering white of her night rail. Robert took a deep, hard breath to steady himself. These were dangerous games.

He touched her cheek. "How are you, sweetheart?"

She smiled at him and raised a hand to rest it against his bare chest. "I am very well, thank you," she whispered. "I feel...quite safe."

God help him. He felt very far from safe. If he felt any more tender and protective toward her, he would be completely undone. He pressed a kiss against the curve of the throat, felt the heat of her skin, tasted the salty sweetness and felt his body surge.

"Do you wish me to stop?" He barely recognized his own voice, it was so rough with repressed desire.

"No." Her lips curved. "Not if it pleases you to continue." There was a glint of challenge in her eyes and no fear at all. She was all feminine triumph for his weakness.

"It pleases me," he ground out. "You please me very much."

He put a hand to the ribbon that tied her nightgown and pulled it. The neckline gaped. He glimpsed her body beneath, all secret shadows and curves. He ached for it. Slowly, carefully, he traced a line from beneath her chin, dipping into the hollow of her throat and dropping lower and lower to the valley between her breasts. He heard her catch her breath. Her nipples hardened beneath the thin linen of the nightgown. He bent his head, taking one tight peak in his mouth, feeling the material against his teeth as he bit down very gently on her nipple. Lucy's gasp of shocked pleasure was all the reward he needed; once again he felt like a god. She arched up from the bed, her body open to him, begging for more.

"Oh..." She sounded shaken. "Oh please...don't stop."

Robert pulled down the nightgown so that she was bare to the waist. The candle was burning down now and the shadows had sunk deep and the room was gray and black. Lucy looked pale and ethereal in the half-light. Robert wanted to see her, but he did not dare break the mood to relight the candle. Instead he stroked her shoulders lightly, reverently, his caresses leading back by slow degrees to the voluptuous swell of her breasts. He stroked upward from her ribs, following the underside of her breasts to their tip, his touch feathering the nipple. She groaned, her breath coming in quick pants. He repeated the caress, again and again, feeling her tighten beneath the tips of his fingers, gentle yet certain, driving her to fulfill a need she had not yet recognized.

When his lips traced the same pattern over her ribs to the tips of her breasts, she once again cried out, rising from the bed, her body silently begging for more. He gave it to her, little nips and sucks and bites that had her squirming, forgetful of her fears, lost beneath his touch. She tasted of hot skin and roses and sweet arousal, and he was so hard he wanted to bury himself in her. But he did not forget this was only the beginning. It would take only the slightest misstep to awaken her to her fears again.

Her fingers dug into the sheet as his lips dropped from her breasts to stroke the curve of her stomach and his tongue flicked wickedly into her belly button. The nightgown was wrapped about her thighs, knotted from the frantic writhing of her body. He wondered if she was aware that she had parted her thighs in instinctive invitation. She lay panting on the tangled sheets, her eyes tight shut and a small frown furrowing her brow.

"I want..." Her voice was slurred as though she were drunk, as though what she wanted eluded any words she knew.

Robert slid one hand over her leg, his palm firm against the soft skin of her inner thigh. She shook uncontrollably, raising her hips in mute plea.

He leaned forward, kissing the hot damp skin of her neck where the tendrils of hair clung. His lips brushed the curve of her ear.

"You want surcease." Between them there was not going to be any false modesty or inhibition. If she were to trust him, it would have to be openly and honestly, with no pretense, admitting to her needs and pleasures. He could not lay the ghosts of the past to rest any other way.

She opened her eyes at the words, but in the same moment he parted her, finding the swollen nub at the very core of her. He watched; her expression changed, her eyes widening, her lips opening as she felt his touch on her. Something hot shimmered in her eyes, hot and disbelieving, almost accusatory as though she could not believe how he made her feel.

He flicked her tight little nub once, twice, in a smooth stroke, and she came immediately, helplessly, on a scream, her body jolting with the force of it. He stroked her again and saw the pleasure catch her a second time, more fiercely than the first. The shock and disbelief in her eyes dissolved into sheer sensual delight and her body slumped, her eyes closing, and she lay boneless and gasping, sheened in sweat.