"Never."

While she was attempting to catch her breath, Dare had already removed his frock coat and waistcoat. Regan stood up and reached around to unfasten the buttons on the back of her dress.

"Here." Dare walked over and finished undoing the remaining buttons. "If I may be so bold?"

"From you, I expect nothing less." She felt his fingers trace the nape of her neck as they traveled downward to the laces of her corset. Regan shivered in anticipation. "Does making love feel different when the lovers are married?"

"Let's find out," he murmured, nuzzling the curve of her neck.

Her corset loosened and slid to the floor. Soon her chemise, petticoat, and stockings were discarded until she was naked. It was terribly wanton of her to stand in front of Dare unclothed, but his hungry gaze gave her the courage not to run to her bed and dive into the bedding.

"Come with me." Dare took her hand and guided her over to a chair. With her sitting naked on his thigh, he leaned over and removed his boots and stockings. Willing to help, Regan finished untying his cravat. She unfastened the buttons of his shirt.

Regan struggled not to giggle.

"What?" he whispered in her ear.

"Until now, I have never sat on a gentleman's lap completely naked."

"It is a charming and decadent pose to be certain." Dare cupped her breast and lowered his head to kiss the soft, warm flesh. "I can assure you that Lady Karmack and your Miss Swann would not approve."

Dare groaned as if she was a wicked temptation that he should resist, but he was incapable of adhering to common sense. It made Regan feel powerful and mysterious. Then he lifted her off his lap and helped her to stand.

Well, this was not exactly how she envisioned her wedding night, Regan thought, feeling suddenly awkward. Perhaps Dare was not ruled by passion, after all.

Regan was about to reach for her discarded nightgown when he muttered "trousers" and turned his attentions to the buttons at his waist. Minutes later, he carelessly dropped his discarded trousers on the floor.

"Is that a large bruise on your leg?" Regan asked, peering at the dark smudge on his skin. It looked rather painful.

"A minor incident at the club," he said, dismissively.

Regan arched her right brow playfully. "And what about your shirt?"

Dare hesitated. Her brow furrowed as he silently considered her request. "What if I told you that I have a few bruises under my shirt that match the one on my thigh?"

Concern clouded her face. "Let me see."

He leaned over the candles he had lit and blew out the flames, casting the bedchamber into darkness again. "No. Forget about the bruises."

In the darkness, she heard a whisper of fabric and a flash of white as Dare removed his shirt. Regan started when his arms circled her waist. He guided her toward the bed.

"What of my brother?" The back of her knees bumped against the mattress.

"Frost is very open-minded, but I would prefer not to invite him to watch."

Regan sat down on the bed and crawled backward until she could lie down. "Oh really? And what are you planning to do?"

Dare crawled up her body, bracing his hands on either side of her head. "Ravish you until we both collapse from exhaustion."

Oh, my.

Dare pressed her body into the mattress as his mouth slanted over hers. His tongue undulated against Regan's, a shallow pantomime of what he intended to do to her body. She reached down and caressed Dare's swollen manhood. The velvet flesh radiated heat against her palm. He moaned against her lips and ended their kiss. Straightening his arms, Dare widened the gap between their bodies so he could cover her hand with his.

"I do not want to wait."

Before Regan could ask him what he meant by this cryptic statement, Dare lifted his hips and fitted the broad head of his arousal against the opening of her sheath.

She felt his breath on her cheek.

"I should stop. I'm rushing this," he said, his arms shaking as he resisted the urge to end his torment and plunge his rigid length of flesh into her womanly sheath.

The realization that Dare was gradually losing his hard-won control was as intoxicating as brandy to Regan. "No ... no," she murmured, parting her thighs, and inhaled sharply as his manhood eased a few inches deeper. "I want this, too. I need you, my-husband."

Dare slipped his hand under her buttocks and urged her body to take more of him. "I can no longer fight it," he said, sounding apologetic.

She arched her back just as Dare abandoned his restraint and thrust deeply into her. Regan did not have time to marvel at how perfectly they fit, because her lover was far from finished. Once he began moving within her, Regan slid her hands to his back and held on.

Regan could barely make out the details of Dare's face, but she did not need her eyes to recognize the man in her arms. The weight of his body, the feel and taste of his skin, and the scent of their combined arousal were as familiar as they were comforting. Stripped of all her senses, she would still know this man, for her soul cried out to his. Dare belonged to her, and he had ensured that she was bound to him as well.

She raked his back with her fingernails, silently urging him to quicken his pace. Dare groaned and nibbled at her chin before his mouth dropped to her shoulder. He cupped her breast and scraped her nipple with his beard stubble. She gasped and her legs tightened around him as he eased the slight burn by laving the tender bud with his tongue. There was no doubt in Regan's mind that Dare craved her body just as much as she wanted him.

Dare surprised her by pulling out of her. Before she could mourn the loss of his manhood filling her, he rolled Regan onto her stomach. "There are so many ways to take you," he growled into her ear as he stuffed a pillow under her belly and positioned her on her knees. "I want to savor them all!"

Cool air washed over her. Regan felt a little silly on all fours, until Dare covered her body with his. His fingers probed the drenched opening of her sheath. She bit her lower lip when he replaced his fingers with the firm, blunt head of his arousal. With a hand splayed on her hip, he adjusted her stance until he was satisfied with the angle. Then he filled her, sliding deeply. Regan clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.

It was a glorious sensation. Her womanly sheath constricted around his manhood, coating the rigid flesh with her desire for him. Deep inside her body, her womb throbbed in anticipation for what was to come.

Regan did not have to wait long. Sensing her unspoken need, Dare began to move. Slowly at first, and then he quickened his pace. His hips slapping against hers, over and over, until she understood the rising madness that had overtaken her husband's control.

Regan cried out as Dare's fingers slid down her front and stroked the tiny nubbin of flesh between her legs. She choked back a ragged cry as colorful lights burst behind her closed eyes. The brilliant display reminded her of Vauxhall Gardens' fireworks.

Dare straightened so he could grip her hips. Without breaking his rhythm, he hammered his manhood wildly into the very heart of her with unflagging accuracy. Regan widened her stance on the mattress, drawing his thick, rigid flesh even deeper. Dare groaned and froze. And then with a sudden surge, he bucked against her buttocks as he found his release. Regan buried her face into the pillow as her sheath squeezed his manhood. Another wave of pleasure swept over her hot, sweat-slick flesh as she felt the final pulses of his seed fill her womb.

Even with her heartbeat pounding in her ears, Regan could have sworn that she heard Dare mumble something against her back.

It sounded awfully like "home."

Grim-faced, Frost stared down at the sleeping couple. He was not an artist, but his fingers itched, nonetheless, to capture the graceful lines of their naked bodies entwined, which disappeared beneath the curving folds of the sheet. Frost had stumbled upon an achingly beautiful scene, and his throat tightened in longing for something that he could not quite define.

Even in slumber, his friend protected his lover's modesty. One arm was wrapped around her, shielding Regan's breasts, while his other hand was splayed over the nether curls between her legs.

Frost gave Dare a pitying glance. Poor bastard. He wondered if Dare had figured out that he was in love with Regan.

His sister's eyelids fluttered open. She smiled sleepily at Frost, until awareness swept through her muddled brain like sunlight cutting through the fog. Her dark blue eyes widened in alarm. "Good grief, Frost!" Regan tried to sit up, and then realized that Dare was holding her. She frantically plucked the sheet covering her and Dare's legs, and pulled it up until it halted waist-high. If given the chance, Frost figured that Regan would have pulled the sheet over her head.

"Dare ... wake up!"

It was tempting to laugh at his sister's predicament ... until he noticed the topaz-and-pearl ring on the third finger of Regan's left hand. The muscles in his body coiled with so much tension, the bones in his jaw and shoulders crackled to relieve the strain.

"When were you and Dare married?" he asked, surprised by his mild curious tone.

Dare glowered at him while he tugged the sheet around his waist higher to ensure that Regan was suitably covered. "Last evening."

Frost felt the vertebrae in his neck pop one by one as he cocked his head to the side. "Regan is only twenty. She needs my consent to marry."

"Frost," Regan began.

"Quiet, dear sister," Frost said genially. Nevertheless, his sister winced at the edge he could not quite soften. "I believe Dare was about to explain how the two of you married last evening without my consent."

Dare held Frost's unblinking gaze. "Well, fortunately, you were generous enough to grant it."

"Ah, I see," Frost said, slowly pacing the length of his sister's bed. "And was the vicar satisfied with my letter of consent?"

"As to be expected, you were very thorough," Dare replied.

Frost's turquoise-blue eyes narrowed with feigned amusement. His friend had absconded with Regan, married her without Frost's consent, and bedded her in her family's home. He could not help but silently marvel at the man's cheek. If it had been any other chit, Frost would have lifted a glass of brandy in the gent's honor.

Dare had not moved an inch, but Frost was not fooled by his friend's nonchalance. "By the by, there is one more thing that you should know."

"And what is that?"

Dare cleared his throat and gave Frost a sheepish grin. "The vicar married us because he believes Regan carries my child."

"And does she?"

Dare chuckled softly and glanced at Regan. "Not for lack of effort."

The invisible leash that had held Frost in check snapped. He had not been aware that he had lunged for Dare until he heard his sister begging him to stop. Anticipating his attack, Dare rolled off the bed and onto his feet with the grace of a fighter. It seemed to matter little to his friend that he wore nothing under the sheet.

Regan made a soft sound of distress.

Frost's eyes widened when he noted the nasty bruises covering Dare's torso and thigh. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Ruffians." He paused. "I believe we have already addressed the minor scuffle near Nox. I see no benefit in continuing the discussion."

"You neglected to mention the severity of your injuries." The bruises were in various stages of healing. "Though you seem to have made an almost miraculous recovery."

Regan frowned at his insinuating tone. "Frost, were you responsible for those ruffians attacking Dare?"

Frost was genuinely insulted by her accusation. "Aw, sister ... You disappoint me. You know I like to deliver my messages personally."

To prove his point, Frost slammed his fist into Dare's arrogant chin. Regan screamed and gathered the sheet around her with some misguided thought to rescue her new husband. Dare staggered back and grabbed one of the bedposts to remain on his feet. It was one of the things that Frost admired about his friend. The gent could take a solid punch.

"Raise your fists and defend yourself," Frost demanded coldly.

"No." Dare found himself entangled within his wife's protective embrace. "Regan, please ... return to the bed. Your brother has every right to be angry with me."

Once he was convinced that Regan would not put herself in harm's way, Dare straightened and met Frost's hooded stare. "If you must, do your worst. It will not change the fact that Regan is my wife."

"Perhaps not, but I know I will feel better," Frost sneered.

It galled him that Dare had bested him. All in all, it was a bitter brew to swallow. Certain Frost would reject Dare as a potential husband for Regan, his friend had simply married her. Dare was gambling that only a coldhearted bastard would contest the union and drag his sole sister into a humiliating scandal.

While it was tempting to watch Dare squirm, Frost would never deliberately hurt Regan. It was obvious that his sister was in love with the man. She would never forgive him if Frost tried to have the marriage declared invalid.

Recalling the news that had prompted him to enter Regan's bedchamber, Frost decided to set aside his issues with Dare for the moment. The gent had bigger problems than a furious brother-in-law.

Regan bit her lower lip. "Frost, I suppose an apology is in order."

"I do not require one from you, my dear," he said, feeling generous. "Although I am disappointed that I was unable to see you married off properly." He shot a scathing look at Dare.

Frost crouched down, picked up the pillow that had fallen to the floor, and tossed it at Regan. She hugged it to her breasts. "When you both have dressed, I would appreciate it if you would join me in the library."

Frost doubted Regan and Dare would have much of an appetite once they heard what he had to say.

Chapter Twenty-nine.

The pillow hit Dare in the face.

"Help me get dressed," Regan said breathlessly, rushing to her wardrobe to find the proper dress for what she perceived was his upcoming execution. Tossing the dress over a chair, she retrieved her undergarments from the floor.

"Regan, calm down," Dare said, though he could not shake the edgy feeling in his gut. "If your brother was plotting my demise, he would have done more than fracture his knuckles on my chin."

Not that he was making light of the facer Frost had just delivered, Dare thought, painfully aware of his throbbing chin. Regan's brother had fists of granite, capable of knocking the arrogance out of a man.

Regan stopped, and gaped at him. "How can you jest at a time like this?" She shuddered. "Frost knows what we were doing in that bed."

Dare squinted at her. "Sleeping?"

She was too rattled to appreciate his humor. "It is all the things we did before we went to sleep that will trouble Frost more. Good heavens!" Regan slapped her hand over her eyes.

"What?" Dare pushed aside the sheet and started collecting his clothing.

"My brother saw me naked!"

Dare did not bother reminding her that acquiring a brother-in-law was more upsetting to Frost than glimpsing a lady's bare backside, and that included his sister's. "No offense, love. Unless you possess some curious oddity like a third nipple or a large mole in the shape of our king's regal nose, I doubt Frost even noticed." He tugged his trousers over his hips.

Regan pulled her chemise over her head. "Lord Hugh Mordare ... you tease me at your own peril!" She gasped when he walked past her to retrieve his shirt. "Oh, your beautiful stomach!" Her eyes grew suspiciously moist as she lightly caressed his abdomen. "And you call this minor. Are you quite certain my brother had nothing to do with this?"