What had she expected? She’d first tried it only yesterday.
This was incredible.
Too soon, Trick blew through the doorway with a wolfish smile that made her breath catch in her throat. He strolled straight to the cabinet and poured them each a goblet of wine. Yesterday’s cups were gone, the broken shards of glass picked up, the stain nonexistent, as though the spill had never happened.
But it had happened, and because of it, she was married to Trick Caldwell.
“Here,” he said, handing her a goblet. He tapped his against it, the tinkle of expensive crystal sounding pure and loud in the silence that stretched between them. “Slàinte mhór.”
Kendra watched his throat muscles work as he drank deeply. Perhaps he wasn’t as cavalier about this as he made himself out to be. Her head spinning even without the wine, she took a cautious sip. “Sl…what?”
He set down his glass and moved to her, slipping his arms about her—quickly, as if he might lose his nerve. “It’s a toast. Good health,” he translated quietly. “And don’t be too impressed. It’s all the Gaelic I can remember.”
“I…I’m…” Feeling dizzy, her heart pounding, her face flushed, Kendra placed one hand on his chest and leaned into him, knowing she was giving him the wrong idea but unable to help herself. She felt abandoned and confused, and he was her only anchor. “I’m not impressed.”
“Oh, aren’t you now?” he drawled, taking the goblet from her other hand. He set it beside his on the table, and then his head dipped, and his mouth covered hers.
Warm. Warm and soft. That was all she could think. His lips moved against hers, sparking a searing heat that spread throughout her body. She tasted wine and Trick, sweet and tart and so delicious she almost forgot how nervous she was. Her arms clasped around him, lest she drop to her knees.
When he broke the kiss, he saw her teetering, and his hands moved to her waist to keep her upright.
A smug smile on his face, he let her catch her breath. “Still not impressed?”
Impressed, she was. And terrified.
He drew a steadying breath of his own and ran a hand back through his hair, and she watched, transfixed, as the front flopped back down into place. “Why don’t you cut it?” she asked, casting about for a safe topic of conversation.
“Hmm?” His darkened gaze held hers.
“Your hair, where it hangs down in your eyes.”
“Maybe I’m just lazy,” he suggested.
“You’re hiding,” she countered.
“Not tonight.” He moved close again and ran his hands over her shoulders, down her arms. “Shall we repair to the bedchamber?”
Kendra hadn’t thought her face could get any hotter, but it did as he took her by the hand and led her down the corridor. The bedchamber had been cleaned up, too; no trace remained of the broken washbowl or its spilled contents. A new one stood in its place.
And, of course, there was the bed. Her gaze locked on it, anticipation and apprehension warring somewhere in her stomach. You should know it will hurt…
“Are you all right?” Trick asked.
She nodded, swallowing hard.
He shrugged out of his surcoat and draped it over the back of the room’s only chair. “Sit,” he said, dropping onto it.
There was no other place to sit but the bed. A big bed, very big for a “cottage,” and especially big for this small chamber. Somehow yesterday that had failed to register. It was a plush feather bed, too, not straw or wool. The bed-hangings, of palest ice-blue silk, were free of fussy frills and looked very costly and eminently tasteful.
The counterpane had already been folded back. She gingerly pushed aside an embroidered coverlet and lowered herself to sit on smooth, luxurious sheets.
“Second thoughts?” Perched on the chair in only shirtsleeves, Trick watched her avidly, a pained half-smile on his face. “I offered you a way out of the wedding,” he said on a sigh. “I suppose I can also offer you a way out of the wedding night.”
Sincere though it might be, she couldn’t help but notice the “offer” was uttered in a voice laced with hope.
“I hope to sire an heir,” he added, “but it doesn’t have to be tonight. I know this has happened quickly. We can wait until you feel ready.”
A tempting offer, indeed. But his eyes seemed to plead with her. And her own body was pleading as well, her heart still racing, her hands clenching in her lap.
She remained caught in that imploring gaze while he came forward and knelt before her. Silently lifting her hand, he began working the clasp on the amber bracelet.
“It’s lovely.” She sighed, feeling tingles as his fingers brushed her wrist. “Was it really from you, then?”
“Aye.” Slowly he drew it off, hefting the weight in one hand. “It belonged to my grandmother, and her mother before her.”
“Then why doesn’t your mother have it now?”
“My father never considered her worthy.”
Worthy. Trick barely knew her, yet he considered her worthy. She tried to wrap her mind around the significance of that, but found herself distracted when he raised her now-bare wrist and placed a warm kiss to the inside, where her blood ran near the surface.
The gesture seemed more intimate than a kiss on the mouth.
She shivered as he moved to set the amber bracelet on the night table. The little metallic click made her jump.
“Relax,” he said, returning to the chair. “I’m not going to pounce.”
Watching him remove his cravat and loosen the laces on his shirt, she felt anything but relaxed.
He pulled off his boots and stockings. “So…do you want out?”
She shook her head infinitesimally.
“I’ll play your maid, since she’s not here,” he said, moving to her with an easy smile. He knelt again and drew off her shoes. “Jane, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Jane.”
He reached beneath her skirts, feeling for the ribbons that tied
