'No.'

'What do you want?' she asked again.

'You,' he said. 'I want you, Meggie. Take off your nightgown.'

'I believe some specifics are in order here, my lord.'

'My name is Thomas.' He said again, his voice cold and remote this time, 'I said that I wanted you. That is quite specific enough.'

'Do you mean that you want to maul me again?'

His hands stilled on the top button of his trousers. It was a good question. He had mauled her, rutting bastard that he was, but it wasn't really his fault. If she hadn't said those things, hadn't rubbed his nose in the fact that she didn't love him-no, that was a lie if he'd ever told himself one, which, of course he had. He'd known she hadn't loved him and he'd believed it wouldn't matter, that he would make her love him soon enough.

Damnation.

He stripped off his clothes, knowing she was watching, looking at him, pointedly. Surely that could be seen as a good thing, perhaps.

When he was naked, he walked to the bed and sat beside her. He looked into those Sherbrooke eyes of hers, beautiful light blue eyes, vivid as the summer sky-and said, 'I will not hurt you tonight. I will come into you and you will like it. I'm going to teach you pleasure, Meggie.' I will be the teacher, the lover, not that bastard Jeremy, and you'll learn to love my hands and mouth, and stop your dreams about him.

'That's very hard to believe that it can actually be nice.'

'I'm going to make you grin like a loon, make your eyes go vague. Eventually I'll even let you go to sleep.' He said nothing more, just drew her against him. 'Kiss me, Meggie.'

'All right.' When his tongue was in her mouth, when she'd eased, when he knew she was becoming interested in what he was doing, he threw the pillows on the floor and came down beside her. 'You're beautiful,' he said into her mouth. 'And you're mine, Meggie. You will never forget that. No one else's, mine.'

She gave him a clear look and said, 'Of course I'm yours, Thomas, and you are mine. I pray you will not forget that either.'

That warmed him to his toes, then made him cold again, on the outside. Meggie might not love him, but she was loyal. He wanted her loyalty true enough, but he wanted her to love him too, it was just that simple. He wanted everything. Well, damnation.

When her nightgown was on the floor and he was on top of her, kissing his way down the length of her, he knew it would be difficult to keep himself in check, but he wouldn't allow a repeat of their wedding.

Thomas's heart was racing, the blood was pumping through him, hot and heavy, and he hurt with urgency. Then he kissed her white belly, feeling her muscles tense, knowing she was excited, knowing that she was ignorant as a post, but was beginning to enjoy herself and wanted to yell with it. He would make her love him, make her want him above all men, above that damned Jeremy, make her yield her soul to him, whisper his name in her dreams. He smiled when he came between her legs, wanting her, wanting her, lifted her in his hands, and gave her his mouth.

Meggie's brain shut down. Yes, he was actually touching her there, with his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. Then she lifted off the bed, so embarrassed when she tried to yell at him, she could only stutter. She tried to jerk away from him, shoving at his shoulders, yanking on his hair, but he just raised his mouth a bit, looked at her straight in her Sherbrooke eyes, and said, his breath hot against her flesh, 'Lie down, Meggie. Close your eyes and let yourself enjoy what I'm doing to you. It's the done thing, just like the tongues. Relax. I'm your husband. This gives me great pleasure. Don't deny me my pleasure, Meggie.'

'Oh no, oh goodness, but, Thomas-'

'Be quiet,' he said and blew his hot breath against her.

Meggie lurched up and yelled.

He eased a finger inside her and she yelled again, only this time, he knew she'd shoot him if he stopped. Good, he had her now. He pushed her until-'Come now, Meggie. Just let go. Come along, come to me-'

Meggie didn't understand what was happening to her, but she knew she'd simply shatter into pieces if anything or anyone tried to stop it happening, whatever it was. She was quaking, stuttering she was so frantic, so maddened by the feelings building and building until-she arched her back, fisted her hands in his hair, and screamed to the beamed ceiling.

He pushed her and pushed her until he felt every bit of tension, every frantic need from deep inside her finally quiet, leaving her utterly limp, utterly his. He gave a shout of satisfaction as he came into her hard, deep and deeper still, and she raised her hips, something that nearly sent him right over the edge. No, he wouldn't leave her this quickly, it wasn't fair to either of them. Where had she gotten the energy to want him more? Then he looked down at them, saw himself going deeper inside her, and trembled like a tree branch in a high wind.

Those long legs of hers went around his flanks, and she moaned, and he tried, he truly tried to slow himself, to come out of her a bit until he managed to grab on to just a bit of control, but then he just couldn't, couldn't do anything but go forward and he did, touching her womb. Her womb, he was part of her. Oh God. Even then he gritted his teeth, trying desperately to hold himself still, not to move even a small little bit, but it did no good. He went right over the edge when she bit his shoulder, then licked where she'd bitten.

He yelled louder than his wife had, then collapsed on top of her.

Meggie, flattened by a very big sweaty male body, didn't mind a bit. So this was pleasure. She bit his shoulder again, licked it, and grinned. She was astounded. She'd wanted to sing and dance with the champagne, but it was nothing compared to this. Now she wanted to whirl about in a fast waltz, she wanted to stomp her feet to some wild music that the gypsies played. She was filled with energy, with power, and all because of him, because of Thomas, her husband.

'Thank you,' she whispered against his ear, and squeezed her arms around his back.

He was breathing hard, his face beside hers, and she'd brought him to this.

'I was very good, wasn't I?' she said, and bit his earlobe this time. 'Just look at you, my lord, felled like a tree, breathing so hard I fear an attack of apoplexy, and all because I'm me and I did it to you.'

'I'm going to die,' he said finally, tried to bring himself up on his elbow but failing. He fell on her again.

'Perhaps I should give lessons, do you think?'

'Meggie, aren't you at all tired? Utterly relaxed? Your limbs weak and useless? Your brain ready to nap?'

'I want to dance, Thomas. Waltz with me. Then may we do this again?'

He groaned, and managed to pull himself up on his elbows. He was still inside her, and when he moved, he felt himself harden again. It was amazing. He didn't want to waltz, oh no. 'Meggie, I don't think we are quite finished yet. Do you mind if we dance a bit later?'

She stared up at him, her head cocked to the side. 'I must be truly amazing,' she said, and lifted her hips. She felt him hard now, as hard as he'd been before he'd reached his climax. It felt wonderful. 'All right. We will waltz after. Do something, Thomas, please.'

And he did, grinning even as he kissed her mouth, the underside of her breast, her hipbone, the inside of her left knee. He kissed her until she moaned in his mouth, and he thought, You're mine, not his, just mine. It didn't take long since he was already far gone. He shuddered and quaked and threw his head back and moaned long and deep. Then when he managed to focus on her face again, he saw that she wasn't unconscious from pleasure as she should be. He didn't pause, pulled out of her, took her with his mouth, and sent her right over the edge, again. She didn't manage a moan or a yell, but just heaved and jerked about like a puppet, then sighed deeply, and reached for him. Before Thomas fell asleep, he brought her close against him, felt her breath against his flesh, knew the instant she was asleep, and he thought, I am really excellent at this. Perhaps even better than my bride. He smiled, knew that Jeremy hadn't intruded this time, and closed his eyes. He was gone in just under two seconds.

Chapter 19

Off the coast of southwestern Ireland Between Cork Harbour and Kinsale

DECIDED SHE loved the Celtic Sea. This morning it looked like the English Channel on a very bad day, a gray

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