She groaned and buried her face deep in her pillow.
Until then, she’d just have to suffer.
IT WAS PAST TWO when Duncan came to bed after spending some long and unproductive hours alone in his studio. He moved quietly about the room, retrieving various items from his overnight bag, careful not to wake his sleeping bride. He took a long, hot shower, letting the water pound mercilessly on the knotted muscles of his back and shoulders, but to little effect. It would take more than water to release the tension coiled inside him.
The castle was different with her in it. In the space of a few hours, she’d somehow managed to turn his familiar surroundings into a place he no longer recognized, and she had done it without changing a thing. He felt disoriented and strangely exhilarated, as if he’d returned from a long journey to find someone else there living his old life.
He showered until the hot water ran out then toweled off with greater care than usual. Even brushing his teeth seemed to require more attention. Finally he ran out of ways to delay the inevitable. The time had come to climb into bed next to his radiantly beautiful wife and pretend he didn’t want her with his entire heart and soul.
He switched off the bathroom light, then opened the door. The faintest shimmer of moonlight filtered through a crack in the drapes, just enough so that he could make out the slender line of her leg where the cover had fallen away. Something stirred deep inside him, deeper even than the drumbeat of blood. He wanted more than to make love to her. He wanted to gather her close to him and keep her from harm.
And those feelings of tenderness did more to scare him than lust ever could.
HE THOUGHT she was asleep.
Sam lay perfectly still as he moved about the room. She’d been wide awake from the moment he first came upstairs. She’d lain there, rigidly still, while he’d stripped off his clothes, then while he took the world’s longest hot shower. The smells of steam and soap still perfumed the cool air of their bedroom.
There was something endearing about his stealth. He was obviously trying his best to keep from disturbing her, and his concern touched her. She held her breath as he turned down the covers on his side of the bed. The mattress dipped when he climbed in then shifted again as he settled beneath the sheet and blanket. It didn’t take a great leap of imagination to figure out that he was probably stark naked over there. If ever a man wasn’t the pajama type, it was Duncan.
Not that it mattered. Naked or clothed, it made no difference to her.
And maybe if she told that to herself another hundred times, she might begin to believe it.
He shifted position twice. Each time he did, she had to grip the blanket tightly to keep from sliding across the mattress toward him. She heard his low exhalation of breath as he punched his pillow into place, and her entire body was galvanized by the sound. Her heartbeat accelerated and she felt the way she had the first time he kissed her.
At this rate she wouldn’t survive their first week of married life.
SAM’S DREAMS that night were a wild Technicolor splash of erotic images that seemed to spring from some hidden corner of her heart, a place she’d never known existed until now. She felt Duncan’s hands skimming her body, caressing her hips, the inward curve of her waist, the flare of her rib cage. She felt his weight pressing her deeper into the soft mattress, the way he positioned his body between her thighs. She felt herself melting, opening, drawing him closer and closer until their bodies joined together in that ancient dance.
She could hear the sounds he made when he climaxed. She could smell herself on his skin. She could feel the delicious stretch of accommodation as her body fit itself around him. It was all so real, so wondrously real that when she awoke that morning, she was shocked to find herself alone.
The covers on Duncan’s side of the bed were more or less back in place and except for the badly rumpled pillow, she couldn’t have proven he’d been there at all. In a way she was glad he wasn’t there. After the dreams she’d had, she would have had trouble facing him without blushing a fiery shade of red.
She reached for her watch on the nightstand. A few minutes after seven. She tried to figure out what time that would be in Houston but her brain refused to cooperate. Besides, Houston time wasn’t an issue any longer, was it? She was in Scotland now, and it was time she made the adjustment.
She made her way downstairs a little while later. Her stomach felt a bit shaky, but so far it seemed to be nothing she couldn’t handle. She’d been incredibly lucky so far when it came to morning sickness. If this unsettled feeling was the worst of it, she wouldn’t question her good fortune.
She poked her head into the dining room. The table was highly polished but unset. She glanced at the sideboard. Nothing going on there, either. Lucky’s housekeeper made sure breakfast was ready and waiting by seven every morning, come hell or tornadoes. Of course, this wasn’t Texas. For all she knew, maybe she was supposed to make her own breakfast. She didn’t know the first thing about castle etiquette, and Mag was the last one she’d ask.
She stepped into the dark hallway. She caught the faintest scent of bacon and followed her nose down the corridor to where it opened into a huge
