Desire

Chapter Six

The church was filled to overflowing. Many of the attendees were friends and well-wishers. Some were merely curiosity seekers, eager to see a peer of such exalted rank take a bride of such dangerous repute. All of the guests, Brynn reflected as she stood before the vicar with her intended husband, doubtless believed she had enticed the Earl of Wycliff into matrimony with her unnatural powers.

As the ceremony progressed, she avoided even glancing at her tall, wickedly handsome groom. It was safer not to look into vivid blue eyes that were the same hue as his superbly fitting coat, or to contemplate how his pristine, intricately tied cravat set off his striking, aristocratic features. Yet she knew every woman present felt a spark of envy.

At that moment, Brynn would have gladly exchanged places with any one of them. She listened with growing dismay to the vicar intoning words that were ancient and binding. She was being joined in holy matrimony to a stranger.

Brynn winced as Lord Wycliff slipped a gold band onto her finger, yet the enormity of their vows didn’t truly sink in until her new husband lightly brushed her mouth with a kiss. His lips were cool, restrained, yet somehow scalding, and they drove home the finality of their union like a blow.

She had bound herself to this man forever, for better or worse. And it was very likely to be worse.

Unnerved, Brynn turned away, almost stumbling.

Wycliff’s hand reached out to support her elbow, and for a moment her gaze locked with his. To her dismay, the burning look in his eyes held possessiveness, triumph.

With deliberate care, she extricated her arm from his grasp. “I truly hope,” she whispered in a hoarse voice, “that you don’t come to regret this day.”

“I don’t intend to,” his lordship replied tranquilly, showing none of the inner turmoil she felt.

Her hand trembled as she signed the church register, cementing the marriage. Then, chastising herself for her cowardice, Brynn straightened her spine and plastered a smile on her lips as she accepted the seemingly endless good wishes of the guests.

The Duke of Hennessy’s barouche carried the wedding party to Caldwell House, where a feast had been laid out on the terrace by the duke’s vast army of servants. The wedding breakfast was torment for Brynn, for it seemed to last for hours. The July afternoon turned so warm, she felt light-headed, despite the cooling salt breeze that blew off the sea. It took all her willpower to serenely endure the countless toasts drunk in the bridal couple’s honor, beginning with the aging duke’s salute to his good friend Wycliff. The expensive champagne, along with everything else she managed to swallow, tasted like dust.

It was the night ahead, however, that loomed threateningly in her mind. When the guests began to trickle away, Brynn felt her panic rising at the thought of the obligatory bedding.

As a rule, she didn’t consider herself a coward, but she had to acknowledge that she feared the physical aspect of marriage. The concept of surrendering her body to a man-even her husband-felt alien to her. Indeed, she’d spent so much of her life avoiding men, resistance was second nature to her.

Wycliff could so easily become carried away. And what if she couldn’t resist him? His mere touch affected her more than anyone else’s had ever done. She could be a terrible danger to him if she fell for his practiced seduction.

The sun was low on the horizon when the duke and duchess took their leave, signaling the end of the festivities. Shortly, Brynn found herself sitting at the bridal table alone except for her new husband and her oldest brother. Theo had long since grown bored with the proceedings and escaped to his laboratory.

When Grayson rose to embrace her, Brynn had to fight against the ache of tears, knowing this might be one of the last times she would see him in a great while. She clung to him for an extra moment, drawing on his strength.

Gray kissed her cheek, then stepped back, his gaze fixed on Wycliff, his expression intent. “You will take care of my sister?” he asked, his tone solemn to the point of grimness.

“I won’t harm her, I promise you,” Wycliff answered easily.

Grayson shifted his gaze to Brynn, who stood awkwardly beside her new husband. “If you need me, you have only to call.”

She forced a smile. “I shall keep that in mind.”

Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, Gray pressed another kiss on her temple and took his leave.

“Your brother is quite protective of you,” Wycliff remarked when they were alone.

“For good reason.”

“I have no intention of ravishing you, Brynn.”

“So you say,” she muttered in a low voice. “I only hope you can remember your honorable intentions when the time comes.”

Wycliff didn’t respond to her obvious concern. Instead, to her surprise, he motioned to the manservant who was hovering at the terrace doors.

“Thank you, Pendry,” he said when the servant presented him with a slim, flat box.

He waited until they were alone again before handing the box to Brynn. “For you, my lady. A wedding gift,” he said in response to her quizzical glance.

Brynn accepted the box warily and nearly gasped when she opened it. Inside was an exquisite array of emerald jewelry set in gold-necklace, bracelet, and ear bobs.

“Emeralds to match your beautiful eyes,” Wycliff said softly.

She schooled her expression to indifference. If he thought he could breach her defenses by showering her with flattery and jewels, he was much mistaken.

“I do not want your bribes, my lord,” she said stiffly, setting his gift on the table.

“My name is Lucian,” he merely reminded her.

He glanced beyond the terrace toward the vast ocean sparkling golden in the distance. “It is a lovely evening, and much too early to retire. Why don’t you go inside and put on a more comfortable gown? Something older that you don’t mind getting soiled.”

She stared at him. “Why?”

“I fancy taking a stroll along the shore.”

Brynn considered asking if he’d taken leave of his senses, but she was more than willing to postpone the moment of reckoning as long as possible.

She did as she was bid, taking a great while to change out of her gown. She couldn’t help noticing that her nightdress was laid out on the bed where she had slept for all of her twenty-four years. Brynn shivered, not wanting to think of the night to come.

When she made her way downstairs, her husband was waiting for her on the lower landing, holding a basket and what looked like several woolen blankets draped over his arm.

“Strawberries and champagne,” he replied to her unspoken question.

“You mean to hold a picnic at this time of day?” she asked, her brows arching in astonishment.

“Something of the sort. I thought a private celebration was in order. And I hoped perhaps we might call a truce for the evening.”

Brynn was uncertain quite how to respond. She didn’t want a truce. Didn’t want to let down her guard. Yet she made no protest when he took her hand and led her back to the terrace and across the lawn, toward the cliffs.

Beyond them, the sun was a red ball on the horizon, sheening the sea before them with golden fire. At the cliff’s edge, Lucian paused for a moment, drinking in the sight. Brynn couldn’t fault him for being spellbound; the view was magnificent.

They negotiated the narrow path down to the rocky shore. He was headed for her own private cove, she realized, not knowing whether to be more alarmed or dismayed. When he took her arm, offering unnecessary assistance, Brynn uneasily drew her arm away, although she refrained from pointing out that she could find her way blindfolded.

Near the rock pool where they’d met, he found a short stretch of sand, where he spread one of the blankets. When Brynn was seated, he fished in the basket and held up the bottle of champagne. “Would you care for a glass?”

“Yes, please,” she replied, needing any courage spirits could give her to get through this evening.

He poured two glasses, then settled himself beside her on the blanket, stretching on his side, supported by his elbow. Defensively Brynn drew her knees up and sipped her wine in silence.

At least the setting was spectacular. The breeze had died to a gentle caress, while the timeless rhythm of the waves washing up on the rocky shore helped soothe her frayed nerves.

Lucian was the first to speak. “The warmth of the climate here never fails to surprise me.”

“Yes,” Brynn replied grudgingly. “This stretch of Cornwall is one of the most temperate in all of England. Palm trees grow here, and roses bloom even in December.”

“I can testify that the most beautiful roses can be found here. I was fortunate to have discovered one.”

He was looking directly up at her, Brynn realized, slanting him a glance. “Flattery will have no effect on me, my lord. I have no intention of falling for your practiced seduction, or becoming another of your legendary conquests.”

“I don’t think of you as a conquest, siren.”

“No?”

“No. I think of you as my incredibly lovely bride.”

Brynn winced. “Must I remind you, we agreed to a marriage of convenience? There is no need for you to try to charm me. I am willing to uphold my end of the bargain. As long as you provide for my brother’s education, I am prepared to do my wifely duty.”

His mouth curved in a slight smile. “I trust you will find our marriage bed a great deal more pleasant than mere duty.”

Brynn pressed her own lips together, clamping down on the urge to retort, determined to hold herself aloof. When he offered a dish of strawberries, she declined.

Choosing one for himself, Lucian bit into the juicy fruit. “You seem willing to sacrifice a great deal for Theodore.”

Her beloved brother was a subject she couldn’t resist. “I would do anything for him,” Brynn said fervently.

“There appears to be quite a gap in your ages.”

She looked down at her glass. “My mother had difficulty after Reese was born. She was enceinte several times-” Brynn faltered, realizing the subject was too personal, and too immodest as well. “She died giving birth to Theo,” she finished quietly.

“And you raised him? You could not have been much more than a child yourself.”

“I was twelve. Old enough to care for him.”

“Theo is fortunate to have you.” When she didn’t answer, Lucian’s voice seemed to soften. “I always wanted a brother or sister. I was an only child.”

Brynn deliberately hardened her heart. She didn’t want to hear about her new husband’s childhood, or anything else that would increase their intimacy. She couldn’t allow her emotions to soften toward him. “You are laboring under the serious misapprehension, my lord, that I care to know anything about you.”

He only responded mildly to her ungracious reply. “I did not bring you here to fight, sweeting.”

“Why did you bring me here, then?”

“I thought you would feel more comfortable in your kingdom.”

“More comfortable?”

“You’ve been ill at ease with me all day. Perhaps here, in a familiar setting, you will be less nervous about consummating our union.”

Giving a start, Brynn turned her head to stare down at him. “You intend to consummate our marriage here?”

“Can you think of a better place?”

“Certainly I can! A bridal chamber is the usual setting for a consummation.”

“But then our marriage is not exactly usual, is it? In fact, I would call it rather unique.”

She drew a steadying breath, grasping for arguments to throw in his path. “Do you have any notion the scandal it would cause if we were seen? Or do you simply not care?”

“No one will see us. I intend to wait until it grows dark, of course.”

It was nearly dusk now. Brynn took a deep gulp of champagne, hoping the sparkling wine would quell her agitation. “It will still be scandalous,” she murmured.

“Not much more so than your swimming nearly nude in this very location.”

She shook her head, feeling a bit desperate. It was one thing to swim here in privacy. It was quite another to purposely hold one’s wedding night on a rocky beach. “Surely you do not expect me to undress here?”

“Why not? I’ve already seen a good deal of your body.”

“It will be much too cold,” she said lamely.

“I brought several blankets. And I will do my best to keep you warm.”

He set the dish of strawberries aside and sat up, making Brynn tense. “I thought you would be more adventuresome than this, my sweet.”

“I am not as adventuresome as all that.”

A faint smile curved his mouth at her indignation. “I am your husband now, Brynn. Married women are permitted more freedom than young misses.”

He paused. “Do you know what is supposed to happen between us?”

“I am not completely green. My closest friends are married, and one of them told me… generally what to expect.”

“Then you know that carnal relations are necessary to conceiving a child.”

She wondered why a child was so important to him, but she didn’t dare ask and give him an opening for even more intimate confessions. “I am well aware of it, my lord.”

“Lucian,” he murmured. “Say my name, love.”

“Lucian,” she repeated reluctantly.

“That’s better. Would you like more champagne?”

“Yes, please.”

She was drinking too much, she knew, but she was not about to stop; she needed the courage if Wycliff meant to go through with his plan.

He refilled her glass, then proceeded to untie his cravat. “You have no cause for worry,” he said, catching her look of dismay. “I have every intention of making your first experience pleasurable.”

“Certainly I have cause for worry. You may not believe in the curse, but I have no doubt your obsession will only grow worse once we…”

“Become lovers?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve always held the opinion that a curse has power only if you give it credence.”

“Well then, you might consider my feelings. You obviously have a vast deal of experience, so you cannot understand my anxiety.”

“Your virginal trepidation.”

She bit her lip, knowing she was blushing. “Yes.”

His compelling eyes held sympathy, tenderness, as did his low voice. “I don’t expect I could fully understand, since I’ve never been a woman. But I promise you, the consummation won’t be as disagreeable as you fear.”

Stiffening, Brynn deliberately looked away. She would have no protection against Lucian whatever if she allowed him to seduce her with tenderness. “I am not interested in your promises, my lord. I agreed to share your bed, nothing more.”

“Forgive me, love, but you agreed to be my wife.”

She had no reply for that, for she had indeed agreed to be his wife. And to bear him a son. Which entailed sexual intimacy…

When Lucian shrugged out of his jacket, Brynn stiffened. His shirt followed, giving her a warm jolt of disturbing awareness. In the fading half-light, his torso was unexpectedly muscular, and made her surprisingly breathless.

“Could we not… put off the consummation for the time being? I scarcely know you.”

His glance held disarming gentleness. “The sooner you put it behind you, the sooner you’ll realize there is nothing to fear.”

“I am not afraid, precisely. I simply don’t want to be intimate with you.”

“Why not? Is there something physical about me that you find disagreeable?”

“You know there is not. Not… physical.”

“What, then?”

You make me feel far too vulnerable, she thought to herself. “Your insufferable arrogance. You think all women should fall at your feet.”

“I assure you, I don’t think that at all.” His voice was low, vibrant, stroking her like rich velvet.

When she didn’t reply, he reached up to touch a curling tendril of hair that had escaped its severe knot. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about the pleasures to be found in lovemaking? What it means to be fully a woman?”

“No, not in the least,” she lied.

As if to disprove her claim, he shifted his hand to caress the shell of her ear with a fingertip. Brynn nearly flinched.

“Has your blood never turned hot at a man’s touch?”

Only yours, she thought, biting her lower lip as his finger slowly trailed down the back of her neck.

“You won’t find lovemaking unpleasant, I’ll vow. At least not after the initial time. I think I can safely promise you will enjoy the physical side of marriage.”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. And yet it was difficult to remain aloof when his fingertips were moving over her skin with such delectable pressure.

His hand continued caressing her nape. “May I take down your hair, Brynn? Please?”

She hesitated, vaguely disarmed by that “please.” She would have liked to refuse him, but as her husband, he had that right. “If you wish.”

“I wish very much.” Rising partway, he knelt behind her and began to remove the pins from her hair. Brynn held her breath at his tender ministrations. She could smell the warm, clean, musky scent of his skin, feel the heat of his hard, elegant body at her back as he freed the heavy mass and let it fall. When his fingers curled slowly, possessively in her hair, she felt a dangerous softening inside her. His touch was so gentle, so incredibly arousing.

Then, wordlessly, he brushed her hair aside, smoothing the thick tresses over her shoulder, and began unfastening the buttons of her gown. Brynn went rigid. Moments later, she felt the hot, moist tip of his tongue trace the high curve of her spine, and she shivered. He was nuzzling her neck, his teeth strangely arousing against her flesh.

She remained frozen, aware of a disquieting pleasure that uncurled low in her stomach. His soft, persuasive lips continued to kiss her nape as he slid the neckline of her gown down over her shoulders to expose her corset. She could feel him loosening the hooks, feel the restrictive pressure ease. When he lowered the bodice of her chemise, her breasts spilled out.

“Lucian…” she protested.

“I like the sound of my name on your lips.”

His hands slid around to cup her breasts, and she drew a sharp breath.

“There is no need for shyness between us, my lovely Brynn. Your body likes me touching you. See how your pulse has quickened… your nipples are taut…”

His fingers closed around the tight buds, sending hot arrows of pleasure streaking through her, making her arch against the tormenting ache. “Do you like how that feels, Brynn? You will like the feel of my mouth even better. Let me taste your sweetness…”

He took her glass from her and set it aside, then eased her back on the blanket. Brynn felt her senses swimming, her blood pounding thickly with the wine she’d drunk, as he bent over her. He kissed each nipple in turn, laving the swollen tips with his silk-rough tongue, suckling until she gave a breathless whimper. When he blew on a turgid peak that was still glistening from his mouth, she quivered at the erotic shock of it.

Holding her dazed gaze then, he sat back and unfastened the buttons of his breeches, drawing them down around his lean hips.

In the gathering darkness, her gaze locked on his naked loins. He was heavy and aroused. She was faintly shocked to see the huge shaft, pulsing and erect, between his sinewed thighs.

“It is only flesh, love. Touch me and see for yourself.”

Taking her hand, he brought it to his groin, letting her explore at her own pace. Brynn swallowed her shock and touched him gingerly, feeling the warm, satiny flesh stretched over granite. He was very male, but not really so frightening. Experimentally, she closed her fingers around the rigid length, and he surprised her by giving a soft groan.

Brynn pulled back her hand at once. “Did that hurt?”

He gave a soft, husky laugh. “A very pleasurable hurt.”

His eyes were hot as he bent over her again, but this time instead of attending to her breasts, he took her mouth. She lay tense beneath him until he murmured against her lips, “Let me in, siren. Kiss me the way I’m kissing you. Give me your tongue.”

She opened to him then, absorbing the slow, penetrating motion of his tongue in heated pulses, even as she felt a ripple of despair course through her. He was so very experienced, and she had no weapons to aid her in halting his sweet seduction. Against her will, she was being tantalized by his potent sensuality, his magical kisses.

When he gathered her closer against his aroused body, deepening his kiss, Brynn shuddered, helpless against the surge of warmth that enveloped her. A shivering desire began to grow inside her, tightening her nipples, her thighs, heating her every nerve ending. It was as if Lucian wove some strange spell around her, a spell she no longer wanted to escape. Her arms climbed upward to encircle his neck, and she gave in to the need to return his kiss.

As the tentative thrust of her tongue met his own, Lucian felt an emotion akin to triumph. It was beguiling, the innocence and enthusiasm in her untutored mouth, the excitement, the tender searching. He tangled his fingers in the rich fullness of her hair and drank of her sweetness, showing her how to respond, to give, to take.

She was making small sounds of pleasure deep in her throat when he slowly swept his hand down her body, pausing at the juncture of her thighs that was shielded by her muslin gown. When she stiffened instinctively, he caressed her soothingly.

“Let me touch you, sweeting,” he murmured. “An aroused woman feels pleasure when she takes a man inside her body, but you must be ready to receive me. Let me arouse you, lovely Brynn.”

In the darkness he could feel her questioning gaze searching his face. “I… don’t think it’s possible,” she whispered thickly, “to be more aroused.”

He buried his smile against her throat. “Oh, yes, it’s possible. And it will be my great pleasure to show you.”

She made no protest as he raised her skirts to bare her delicate flesh to the night air, and yet she tensed when he moved his palm along the warm satin of her inner thigh.

Wanting to distract her, Lucian lowered his mouth to her tantalizing breasts, suckling her again as he fingered the soft folds at her damp apex.

She was wet silk between her legs, her body already prepared for his taking. The realization made his shaft clench with savage need, yet he knew he had to take exquisite care in satisfying her for her first time.

Her breathless moan told him he was succeeding. She clutched at his shoulders as he found the nub of her sex. He murmured a soft reassurance when her body jolted in shock, and went on stroking the sensitive flesh. In only moments she had tilted her head back, moving it restlessly against the blanket, straining her hips against his caressing hand.

He felt her tremble, and gently thrust a finger into her silken warmth. Brynn whimpered softly in pleasure. He slid a second finger into her, pushing deeper, and she gasped, clamping her thighs around his hand.

Sucking hard on her engorged nipple, he kept up the arousing rhythm with his fingers, probing and withdrawing, until the motion enticed her hips into an undulating movement she couldn’t control.

She arched and twisted, instinctively seeking relief from the feverish passion he was building within her. He could feel the heat rising from her flushed skin, hear her rasping pants as she reached the brink of climax. A heartbeat later, he felt her shatter.

Triumphant, Lucian took her mouth again, capturing her startled moans. He kissed her face and held her until she lay completely pliant in his arms. His erection was a throbbing, painful heat, but he forced himself to remain still, allowing her time to recover.

He sensed her bewilderment as Brynn searched his face in the darkness.

“That was the pleasure you spoke of?” she whispered hoarsely.

He smiled. “Yes. That was the pleasure. But there is more.”

“More?” Her voice sounded faint. “I don’t know if I can bear any more.”

“You can,” he promised softly. “You’ll find the bliss even deeper when our flesh is fully joined. Let me show you, Brynn.”

Her silence, while not welcoming, suggested surrender.

Smoothing a tendril back from her forehead, Lucian slid his thigh between hers, then hesitated.

A strange tenderness filled him as he gazed down at her shadowed features. This was his wife. The woman he had chosen to be his life’s mate. He had made love to countless other lovers, but this time was somehow different. He was burning with lust, desire, need, yet the feelings rioting through him were more powerful than any he had ever experienced.

And more dangerous. Having Brynn beneath him like this-sexually responsive, incredibly alluring- reminded Lucian of his erotic dreams…

He frowned. Was Brynn right? Was he becoming obsessed with her?

Lucian shook his head. For now he wouldn’t consider the possible danger. Brynn was his bride. His elusive enchantress. He wanted to taste her secrets and make her his forever.

His whisper brushed close against her ear. “Let me make you mine, sweet Brynn…”

With deliberate slowness, he eased over her, spreading her thighs with his own. When he entered her partway, she drew a sharp breath. He held himself still, allowing her to grow accustomed to his alien hardness stretching her, filling her.

Her breath grew harsh when he pressed in a bit farther. “No, don’t tense up, love. Try to soften your body when you take me inside you.”

When he felt her tension ease, he progressed slow increments at a time. This time he felt her wince when her fragile barrier rent, but she made no sound beyond a faint gasp as he sheathed himself the final measure.

For a long moment Lucian didn’t move, pressing soft kisses over her flushed face, her eyelids, cherishing the lush promise of her virginal tightness.

He could feel her softening, warming around him, feel her heated wetness increasing with her renewed arousal.

“Better?” he asked, his control no longer steady.

“Yes,” she said, the word a mere breath of sound.

Lucian forced himself to hold back, to restrain the excitement flaring through his senses. She was moist and hot and insanely inviting, but still innocent and untutored. Calling on all his willpower, he began the slow, exquisite task of bringing her to pleasure, moving gently inside her, using all the skill he possessed to coax a sexual response from her.

She offered no resistance now. When he pressed even deeper, Brynn’s thighs parted to accept more of him. And when he drew back, she tentatively lifted her hips, as if to follow. Lucian clenched his teeth, fighting the scorching hunger of his body.

Traces of the same scorching hunger singed Brynn. The heavy, burning ache inside her was growing, yet it wasn’t pain. It was heat; it was desire. Her entire body throbbed at the feel of Lucian’s hard flesh joined with hers.

Then his mouth dipped to her breasts, kissing her erect nipples, and the twinges of pleasure sharpened. His tantalizing, arousing caresses made her press closer, molding her skin to him as she felt the hot, coiling tension rise, spiraling through her body from the bright center of sensation.

In reward, he sank deeper. She whimpered, wordlessly pleading, helplessly needing. He thrust harder, and Brynn suddenly erupted.

Her senses exploding, she moaned, mindlessly clutching his face to her breasts, frenzied with longing. All she could do was cling to Lucian and endure the storm, a magical whirlwind of fire in the darkness.

Her cries of ecstasy and wonder still echoed softly in the night as he drove himself to his own convulsive climax deep within her. Vaguely she felt his shudders, felt his restrained violence as he moved possessively, forcefully between her thighs. Yet her shaking body seemed to accept his urgency, welcoming him until his final tremors faded.

Dazed, trembling, Brynn fell limply back, shutting her eyes.

It might have been an eternity before she regained enough awareness to feel the gentle kisses Lucian was pressing over her face. He was still buried within her, his breath hot and soft on her skin, while she was still throbbing, pulsing with intolerable pleasure.

“Was that as distasteful as you expected?” he asked, his voice warm with intimacy.

“Not quite,” she breathed, reluctant to admit that he had been right.

His laughter was soft and vibrant, as full of promise as the night air around them. Carefully he eased from her body and gathered her in his arms.

Wincing with twinges of pain, Brynn pressed her face into the smooth, muscular wall of his chest. She could feel his warmth, smell the exciting male muskiness of his skin. His embrace felt unbearably intimate, yet after what had just passed between them, it was rather tame, she supposed.

She was glad he couldn’t see her embarrassment. The caressing darkness had made her cast away all inhibition and logic, turning her into a wild, lustful creature she couldn’t even recognize.

She was stunned by the wonder of a passion she’d never anticipated. She hadn’t realized such a degree of wanton feeling existed. But then her new husband was a captivating man, magnificently virile, seductively male…

Brynn drew a sharp breath.

With very little effort, Lucian had breached her defenses. Like every other woman he pursued, she had succumbed to his disarming tenderness and smoldering sensuality… heaven help him.

Brynn squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think of the danger. Not now. Not at this incredible moment.

She buried her nose deeper into his chest, wishing she could hide inside him.

“Has any female ever resisted your attempts to charm?” she murmured finally.

“You, love.” His tone was gentle and faintly amused. “You’re the only one I can recall. Except for my mother, perhaps. She was usually immune to my efforts.”

It seemed he could laugh at himself. That surprised her. And worried her. She didn’t want to find anything else appealing about Lucian. Didn’t want to come to like him.

Even so, she was indescribably grateful he had been so considerate of her virginal state, that he had been so gentle with her. He was still being gentle, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on the bare skin of her shoulder…

At last acknowledging that she shouldn’t encourage such familiarity, Brynn edged away, then flinched at the tender throb deep inside her where she’d stretched to accommodate his raw power.

“Perhaps we should return,” he murmured as if he sensed her discomfort. “You would be more comfortable in a real bed.”

Sitting up, she fumbled to straighten her clothing but found it difficult with her mind still in turmoil. In a moment Lucian brushed her fingers aside and helped her dress. Brynn bit her lip at this telltale evidence of his licentiousness. Even in the dark, he knew his way around a woman’s undergarments.

She held her tongue, though, and suffered his attention in silence. When he pressed a kiss on her temple, she pulled away and rose to her feet. She was startled to feel a wetness between her thighs. It was Lucian’s seed, she realized, reminded of the brazen carnal relations they had just shared.

“Wait a moment,” he murmured. “I brought a lantern.”

She could hear him opening the basket and then striking a lucifer. The sudden brightness as he lit a box lantern made her wince, but it was the sight of his naked torso that made her avert her gaze. His lean, muscled frame rippled with fluid strength and sent butterflies curling low in her belly, as well as fresh pulses of sensation throbbing between her thighs.

When he had put on his shirt, he returned the champagne and strawberries and glasses to the basket. Then, gathering the rest of his clothing and the blankets, he handed her the lantern.

“Lead the way,” he said.

She would not look at him as she negotiated the path along the cliff face, or when she accompanied him across the lawn and onto the terrace, heading for the French doors that led to the dimly lit library.

She had just climbed the marble steps when her husband came to a sudden halt.

“Brynn, wait,” he ordered in a low, urgent voice.

She paused, then gave a start of alarm when the dark figure of a man moved out from the shadows of the house, into the lantern light. She hadn’t suspected anyone was there.

“My lord, it is I, Davies,” the man murmured in a cultured accent.

He was an older, distinguished-looking gentleman, Brynn saw, with graying hair and a tall, somewhat portly figure. Lucian must have recognized him, for she could feel his tension ease beside her.

“Yes, Davies,” he said with apparent casualness. “I presume you have a good reason for traveling all this way from London?”

“I do, my lord. I have news, which I fear is not good.” The man glanced at Brynn. “Perhaps we might speak in private?”

“Of course. Brynn, this is my secretary, Mr. Hubert Davies. Davies, my new wife, Lady Wycliff.”

The man sketched her a deep bow. “I am honored, my lady.”

Brynn murmured a polite reply, then glanced up at Lucian, who gave her a brief smile.

“Will you forgive me, my dear? It appears I have some dull business affairs to deal with. Why don’t you go upstairs? I will join you shortly.”

Short of making a scene, Brynn had no choice but to oblige. She made her way up to her bedchamber, rife with puzzlement and curiosity-and disquietude as well.

When she caught sight of herself in the cheval glass, though, she drew a sharp breath in dismay at her wanton appearance-her hair tumbling wildly down her back, her gown disheveled, her cheeks flushed with color.

Her flush deepened when she realized her husband’s secretary had spied her this way. It was shameful to have been caught in such brazen behavior, especially after she had vowed she wouldn’t succumb to Lucian’s practiced charm.

She washed the vestiges of his lovemaking from her body and restored order to her appearance, pinning her hair up again, and then discovered she didn’t know what else to do with herself-whether to change her gown for her nightdress or simply wait for Lucian to come.

At loose ends, she tried to read, but found she couldn’t concentrate. Her mind kept wandering to Lucian, both to the incredible passion he had shown her and to darker thoughts of what effect this night would have on their future.

It was perhaps a half hour later when her restlessness grew to a fever pitch. Shutting her book, Brynn rose to her feet and began to pace the floor, wondering what could be keeping Lucian.

She was about to go downstairs in search of him when she heard a soft rap on her bedchamber door. When she bid entrance, she was taken aback to see his secretary, Mr. Davies.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I have a message from his lordship.”

“A message?”

“Yes. He regrets being called away on an important matter.”

“I’m not certain I understand,” Brynn replied, frowning. “What could possibly require his attention at this time of night?”

“Business that cannot be avoided. Lord Wycliff has left for Falmouth, where his ship is anchored. He gave me instructions to escort you by coach to London on the morrow. I am to help settle you in your new home.”

Brynn felt herself stiffen. “I wonder that he could not spare the time to tell me himself.”

“The matter was urgent, my lady. Lord Wycliff begs your forgiveness.”

Brynn wasn’t certain she could believe the apology, but she tightened her jaw and bit back a tart comment, saying merely, “When may I expect to see him again?”

“I regret I cannot predict, my lady. Doubtless it will be several days at least, perhaps a week, before he can join you in London. As for tomorrow, it will be best to get an early start as the journey will be rather long. I came in his lordship’s traveling coach. If you are agreeable, I will have your trunks loaded at first light.”

“Very well, Mr. Davies,” she said rather numbly.

With a deep bow, the secretary stepped back and shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Brynn to stare after him, stiff with shock and hurt and welling resentment.

What business, she wondered, was so urgent that her new husband must abandon his bride on their wedding night? And why in heaven’s name could he not even do her the simple courtesy of saying farewell?