"I should like that very much."

Middleton took her firmly in hand, and Ava liked that-she liked the feeling of belonging with him.

Perhaps the awkward moment on the drive had been an aberration, the result of fatigue. Perhaps everything would be very nice between them.

Perhaps her nerves, now a.s.suaged by the whiskey, would settle down.

But if anything, they grew worse. Their tour took more than an hour. Middleton pointed out the historical facets and where the monks had once lived, their cells now converted to servants' quarters. He showed her the west drawing room, which had once been a chapel, and the various wings and rooms and artwork that had been added through the centuries. Too nervous to focus on the art and architecture of the grand old abbey, Ava asked few questions about his revered family's history, and he told her very little.

In fact, Middleton became less talkative as the tour wore on. He just kept looking at her in a way that made her feel incredibly exposed. Her skin tingled with the intensity of his gaze, and Ava could scarcely think-her trepidation at what was to come growing more acute by the hour.

By the time they had returned to the salon, Dawson was waiting to take them in to dinner.

The smaller family dining room was a size that most would consider to be a formal dining room, large enough to seat two dozen. At the far end of the table, two place settings had been arranged. Middleton' s, at the head of the table, and Ava's, to his right. Two footmen stood silently next to a large buffet, on top of which were six silver-domed platters.

Dawson held the chair out for her; Ava slid into it self-consciously. As accustomed as she was to formal dining, this seemed far more formal, and bigger. But Middleton gave her a smile and a slight wink as he took his seat. "A lot of pomp and circ.u.mstance to eat one fat hen, isn't it?"

She smiled gratefully at his attempt to put her at ease, but as Dawson poured wine, her nerves felt as if they were all but exposed, hovering just beneath the surface of her skin, ready to explode. She drank the wine and pushed her food around, her appet.i.te completely crushed under her anxiety.

Middleton, however, didn't seem to be bothered. He made small talk as he ate, asked her about the sorts of things that amused her.

"I'm not certain I know what you mean."

"What sorts of things do you like to do? Besides your charitable work, of course," he added with a devilish smile.

"Oh. Well. I suppose I like to read-"

"What do you read?"

"Novels," she said. "Popular novels, particularly."

"Ah. Stories of love and l.u.s.t," he said, his gaze dipping to her lips as he reached for his winegla.s.s.

"And the daily newspapers," she added quickly. "I particularly enjoy the on dits. Phoebe and I make a game of out of it."

"The sort of game that supposes which gentleman is in which lady's bed?" he asked, idly watching her.

Ava didn't answer-her face burned with the truth.

"Or perhaps you enjoy another sort of game," he suggested, his voice dropping to a low pitch. "Wondering which gentleman you would like to find in your bed?""Of course not," she said instantly.Middleton smiled at her obvious lie but nodded gallantly. "I beg your pardon, madam. I did not know you, your sister, and your cousin were as chaste as that."

"We..." Her voice trailed off, and she cast her gaze to her plate. She tried to think of something wittyand clever to say to her husband, but nothing came to her.He smiled and picked up his fork. "What else amuses you?""Music," she said. "I like the pianoforte, although I play it wretchedly. Greer is the talented one among us. And I like dogs, I think. Not cats, especially, for they are rather aloof. But I enjoy seeing the dogs in the park. They seem friendly and exceedingly loyal. And, oh yes, I do enjoy a good walkabout."

"You shall have plenty of room to roam at Broderick Abbey."

She tried to picture herself walking around the grounds of Broderick Abbey, the lady of the manor, and the image brought a smile to her face. How absurd! Ava Fairchild, a marchioness!

"There we are, at last-a lovely smile," he said, smiling, too. "What amuses you at this moment?""The idea that I should be a marchioness. Or a d.u.c.h.ess, for that matter.""I suspect you will be a very good one. I have all faith.""Your faith in me is very much appreciated, but very much undeserved." Before he could politely argue, she asked, "What amuses you, my lord?""Hmm," he mused, his brow wrinkled with thought. "I suppose horses rather than dogs, although I had adog as a lad and I was quite fond of him. Hunting rather than walking. I do enjoy music. And reading, although I must confess I have never read a popular novel of l.u.s.t and love," he added with a sly smile. "Perhaps we might indulge in one together."Ava pretended to study her winegla.s.s. "What was your dog's name?" she asked, avoiding any mention of l.u.s.t or love."His name?" He grinned. "Doogie."Ava laughed."What?""That is a wretched name for a dog.""I beg your pardon?" he asked, feigning offense. "It is a perfectly suitable name for a cur!""It is perfectly suitable for a stableboy. Not a dog!""And who are you, madam, to declare what is a suitable dog's name?" he teased her. "I will have you know that I spent hours determining the perfect name for him. Now, then, to be fair, you must tell me the

name of your childhood pet."

"I did not have a dog, I had a canary," Ava informed him. "And as there were three of us, the namingwas not done entirely on my own.""Very well, what did the three of you name your pet canary?""b.u.t.termilk," Ava said, and smiled, pleased that he should laugh so roundly at that.He asked about her childhood-Bingley Hall, the move to London after her father died and her mother remarried. She told him about her debut into society, and her presentation at court, and how she had

accidentally spilled wine on the prince regent's velvet shoe at the ball afterward.She talked at length about her mother. It felt good to talk about her; it helped to lessen her anxietysomewhat. And it was good to speak of her to someone other than Phoebe and Greer, to someone whohad not known how lovely she was so that Ava could say it aloud. She even spoke of herself, and ofPhoebe and Greer, too, of Greer's foray into Wales and Phoebe's despair that she'd been abandoned.

"We shall send for her once you are with child," he said instantly.

A flood of heat invaded her face, and Ava glanced down at her lap, feeling b.u.t.terflies at the mere mention

of a child in her womb. All the anxiety she had managed to push down suddenly rose up again. "Thankyou. It would be good to have her with me."He paused in his dining and looked at her. "Is something wrong?"She shook her head.He reached for her hand, covered it with his and held it for a moment. "Rest east, Lady Middleton," he said at last. "There are greater things in life to fear.""I hardly fear children, my lord."He smiled a little lopsidedly. "I was hardly referring to children."Dear G.o.d. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest as he gazed at her, his eyes roaming her face, dipping to her decolletage, which she knew very well to be quite revealing, and then up again, lingering on

her lips before giving her a roguish smile and letting go of her hand.Ava's insides churned with antic.i.p.ation and fear all at once. Yet somehow, she made herself pick up herfork. "And what of your childhood, sir?" she asked. "Where was it spent?"

He answered vaguely. His childhood, he said, was rather dull, spent in boarding schools and in Europe. His house in London was bought from his uncle, who was now deceased. Broderick Abbey was his seat, and while he didn't spend as much time here, he rather liked it here, and was trying to inst.i.tute some agricultural changes that would earn a better yield from the land.

"And your father?"He glanced up from his plate and regarded her suspiciously. "What of him?"The chill in his voice startled her. "You haven't mentioned him.""Why would I?"

Why? After the interview in his father's study, and the obvious animosity between father and son, he would ask why? Ava blinked. "I don't know...he just seemed so...displeased...about us," she reminded him.

Middleton looked at his plate. "I wouldn't bore you with the unpleasant history of my relationship with my father. You wouldn't understand."

"Of course I would," she retorted, ruffled by his dismissive response.

But Middleton sighed and gave her a stern look she'd never seen from him before now. "All right, then, here you are, Lady Middleton. He is generally displeased because I am not, nor have I ever been, the son he wanted. He considers me f.e.c.kless and undeserving, for we are not cut of the same cloth, he and I. "

"But how is that-"

"If you wouldn't mind, it is really neither here nor there," he said, cutting her off. "I've little enough to do with him as it is and I'd rather not discuss it." With that, he looked at Dawson. "You may clear these things away. Lady Middleton and I would retire now."

Dawson and the footmen instantly began moving. But Ava, startled by his quick decision and his black look, didn't move. Jared came to his feet and walked around to Ava's chair. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down, so that his lips were against her ear. "You look as if you are expected in the gallows, madam." He straightened up, pulled her chair back, and helped Ava to her feet. Then he took up the wine and the two gla.s.ses they had drunk from and nodded to the door. "To the gallows, then."

Ava stumbled slightly, but he caught her with his hand. "Relax," he said low and put a steadying hand on her back. Out they went, walking silently down the carpeted corridor, then up the stairs. Jared paused at the landing as she gathered her skirts in one hand. He took her hand in his and led her purposefully to the end of the hallway, past beeswax candles casting eerie light on silk-covered walls, past consoles boasting hothouse flowers, past closed doors and two chambermaids standing politely with their backs to the wall as the master and his wife pa.s.sed.

When they reached a certain door, Jared's hand dropped from her waist and he turned the crystal k.n.o.b, throwing it open, and then, standing behind Ava, he gave her a gentle push inside.

The room was similar to hers, only larger. It was painted the blue color of a spring sky, the carpet Oriental and plush and the furniture thickly padded and covered in leather. There was a dresser, atop which were the accoutrements of a man-a pair of gloves, a discarded neckcloth, a small purse, and a heavy silver candelabrum. She could see into the dressing room, too, where there was a basin, with a leather strop and razor hanging nearby.

And then, of course, there was the canopied bed. It was draped in dark green velvet, the bed covering brocade and embroidered with dark green and gold leaves. The canopy was hand painted, rising tall on mahogany posters at the four corners, topped with gold pineapples. A fire burned brightly at the hearth, and someone had turned down the bed for his lordship.

The boots he'd worn to his wedding were at the hearth, a silk dressing gown was draped over the back of a wingback chair. At the windows, gold and dark green drapes had been pulled to keep out the morning light.

Ava clasped her hands to her belly and glanced up at the ceiling frieze-papier-mache ropes slung from urn to urn, a circle of pineapples in the middle.

She heard the door close and the snap of the lock and turned around. Middleton had put down the wine and the gla.s.ses and was pulling the pin free of his neckcloth, which he placed on the dresser. She felt panicked, watching him.

He regarded her warily as he yanked the neckcloth free and tossed it aside, followed by his collar. "Iagreed to marry a woman who laughed easily," he said as he shrugged out of his coat. "But, madam,since our vows were taken, you have turned into a nervous little ninny."

He pulled open his shirt, and Ava caught a glimpse of the crisp hair that covered his chest. His dark hair was almost to his shoulder, his hazel eyes glinting dangerously, his face impossibly handsome. She watched as he unb.u.t.toned his waistcoat, big hands moving lithely down the row of b.u.t.tons, and she suddenly had a vision of those hands on her body.

"I must amend my earlier statement," he said casually, as if he were quite accustomed to disrobing before a woman. "Now you look rather appalled."

"No, I-I..." She glanced at his hands again as he dropped the waistcoat on a chair. She wasn't theleast bit appalled, she was overwhelmed-completely and utterly overwhelmed by the sight of him. Shefelt almost light-headed with it, and the burn in her cheeks spread to her neck. Ashamed at her lack offort.i.tude on her wedding night, she dropped her gaze to the carpet.

She was uncertain what to say or do, her mind unavoidably on the moment she would become his wife in more than name. It was something she had long wanted to experience, in truth, but now that the hour was upon her, she did feel a little as if she were marching off to the gallows.

She wished for her mother, who often laughed about the master's bedroom. "I let him do what he wants, as long as he promises not to frighten the staff or the children," she'd laughingly said to her friend one day. Later, when Ava asked her what she'd meant by it, her mother had smiled and kissed her cheek. " When the time comes, I shall tell you what you must know. But for now, darling, I shall tell you this: Never fear it, never give it away, but never say no."

She didn't know Middleton moved until he was upon her, taking her in his arms. He put his hand to her chin and pushed her head back so that she could look into his hazel eyes. "I once escorted a woman in a coach who had no fear of me," he said, his gaze drifting to her lips. "I would have that woman back, if you please," he said, and buried his face in her neck, kissing the hollow at her throat.

"That woman," Ava breathed as his hand slid down to her hip, pressing her into him, "was a ridiculous,silly thing who knew of only kisses, but I...I-"

He raised up, took her jaw in hand, and kissed her mouth firmly before suddenly sweeping her off her feet and carrying her to his bed and depositing her in a heap on it. Ava bounced, caught herself, and tried to move off the bed. "I should-"

"You should lie there and stop building shadows in your mind," he said, and with a practiced sweep of hand, he pulled the pin that held her hair and watched it fall. "Fear will make the experience intolerable," he murmured, his breath tickling her skin, his eyes darkening. "Just relax, Lady Middleton, and allow me to ravish you properly."

Seventeen.

A va gasped and laughed with surprise all at once, stammering her reply, but Jared would hear none of it. This would be done-the gravity of what he'd done had finally sunk in. He'd gone to the trouble of marrying her for it, and he would take what he'd given his freedom to have.

"My lord-" she started, pushing lightly against him.

He covered her hand on his chest and shook his head. "No, madam, you will allow me this. I am your husband and you will allow me this." He moved over her, trapping her beneath him as he put his mouth to her bosom, his lips and tongue sliding over her flesh, into the crevice between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

She gasped again, but this time, it was the sound of pleasure, not fear. He could feel the heat of her body through her dress, the blood rising to the surface. He felt her hand timidly touch his hair, her body slowly rise up to his mouth, and suddenly, any anger or confusion or emptiness he had felt was gone. He felt nothing but his own need rising up, pushing at him, at his limbs and his c.o.c.k and his brain.

He moved his hands up and down her body, over her shoulders and the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, down her ribs and waist to her hips, to her feet. He flipped off one of her slippers. And the other. And then his hand was beneath the hem of her gown, sliding underneath, running up her leg, to the top of her stocking, to the smooth skin of her bare thigh, to the slit in her drawers.

She sucked in a sharp breath when he touched her there; her hands gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging through the fabric of his shirt.

He grinned, moved his fingers deeper into her damp folds. "This is the woman I have known," he saidhuskily, moving his fingers against her, feeling her body heat. "A woman full of pa.s.sion and desire for aman."

Ava closed her eyes, releasing a sigh of pleasure, and her head rolled to one side as his hand movedagainst her. The pleasure that her response evoked in him spiraled down to his groin. "A woman who isbold enough to want pleasure for herself," he whispered as he stroked her.

There were too many articles of clothing, too much between him and her flesh, and he sat up, yanking her up with him, his arms going around behind her back as he kissed her mouth, unhooking the b.u.t.tons, loosening her gown. When he had at last unfastened the garment, he stopped kissing her and leaned back, looking at her green eyes.

She was smiling a little but her eyes were big as moons. He took some pity on her-here was a woman who'd never revealed her body to a man. He pushed her hair behind her ear, stroked her chin, and, holding her gaze, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed the gown from them, down her arms, until it bunched at her waist.

Ava's gaze did not waver from his. She did not blink, she did not look down, just kept looking at his eyes.

But Jared couldn't help but look at her body, and the desire began to percolate. "My G.o.d," he whispered. "You are beautiful...so beautiful," he repeated reverently, taking her in. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were full and straining against the fabric of the thin chemise, rising rapidly with each frenzied breath. Her waist was slender, tapering into shapely hips. He smiled appreciatively and pressed his lips to her smooth cheek. Her skin was baby soft and warm beneath his mouth, and she smelled so sweet, so feminine and sweet.

He moved his lips to her ear. "Stand up," he whispered.

Ava didn't move right away, but Jared did, reaching for her hand and pulling her up. She stood beside the bed uncertainly as her gown and chemise slid down her body. He went down on his haunches, slipped his hand beneath her foot and lifted it. She wobbled, but put her hand to his shoulder and allowed him to move first one foot, then the other, and remove the gown.

He rose up, pulled his fingers through her hair, so that the honey blond tresses spilled around her shoulders. She was beautiful, this wife of his; he could not deny it, and his body was raging for her. "

Beautiful," he murmured, and leaned down, touching his mouth to hers.

"I feel a bit scarce of breath," she whispered.

"So do I," he responded honestly.

Her lips began to move beneath his, nipping back at him, shaping around his lips. The sensation of her response began to flow through Jared like molten rock. He straddled her legs and began to coax her into his body by caressing her spine. But something was missing. He abruptly lifted his head and groped for her hands, which were hanging at her sides, and put them on his chest.

"There you are," he said, and returned to her lips, slipping his tongue between them, into her mouth.

Ava surprised him then. Her hands went from his chest to around his waist, pulling him closer, as she rose on her toes to kiss him. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were pressed against him, her mouth open beneath his, and as he kissed her, his hand on her breast, Ava moved her hand to the front of his trousers, brushing his erection.

Her virginal boldness excited him. He lifted his head and meant to say something, but then Ava opened her eyes and smiled with such seductive innocence that if she touched him again-just touched him-he feared how he might react, how swiftly he might put her on the bed and take her without regard for her ignorance.