"Your poor manners. I daresay you don't know the names of any of your own staff, do you?"

"I haven't the time for such nonsense. There are dozens of them."

"Dozens? How large is your town house?"

"Large enough." He caught her gaze and held up a hand. "Hold. Before you get more out of sorts, let me

try to remember that blasted man's name." He frowned. "Seth?"

"Simon."

"Simon, then. He came to the window when we stopped to change the horses. I explained I did not wish to wake you, so he had the carriage propped up so we could change the horses. Your Simon is quite ingenious."

"I don't remember any of that."

"I explained you were tired from our honeymoon activities."

Fiona gasped. "You did not!"

Jack's eyes glinted in the low light from the lantern. "No, I did not. But I thought about it." He slipped an arm about her waist and slid her across the small s.p.a.ce between him. "It's not every groom who would be so understanding of his bride on their wedding night." He cupped her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheek. "Fortunately for you, I am a patient man."

An odd flutter danced in Fiona's stomach, her skin p.r.i.c.kling with goose b.u.mps. He'd always had the ability to make her bones melt with just a simple touch and a soft word. He was so certain of himself- while she was filled with uncertainty, an unwelcome experience. For the first time in her life, she did not know what the future held, and it terrified her.

He feathered his thumb over her lips, his gaze following the movement. "You have the most beautiful mouth, Fiona. So lovely and lush, like a strawberry plucked at just the right time, red and sweet..."

He bent forward and raked his lips softly over hers. It wasn't a kiss; it was more of a promise, a whisper of what could be.

Fiona shivered again, her skin hot, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s tight. She should fight this attraction. Fight it and keep her own emotions well in control. But the last week had been nothingbut control, and she was tired of not feeling, not touching. She wanted comfort and acceptance and pa.s.sion. After a week of death, she wanted to tastelife. To hold it to her, to savor it and revel in it.

She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Jack saw the exact moment she gave herself over to the pa.s.sion that hovered between them. While she' d slept in his arms, the scent of her hair and the warmth of her skin beckoning to him, he'd had to fight the desire to touch her, taste her, possess her. It had been along carriage ride. During a rough section of road, her hand had fallen into his lap, and he'd thought he would explode.

It had always been this way between them. Since their first meeting, something hot and primal had drawn them together.

Now, finally released, his pa.s.sion exploded with the touch of her lips to his. He pulled her closer and nipped her bottom lip, savoring its plumpness.

But he wanted more than a kiss. Far more. He slid his hand up to her breast, cupped her, and ran his thumb over her nipple, making it harden through the thin material.

Fiona gasped, her mouth parting, and Jack slid his tongue between her lips. She moaned, pressing closer, her arms tightening about his neck.

G.o.d, but she was sweet. He deepened the kiss, tasting her ripeness as he slid his hands down her back to her waist, to her hips. She was so lush and full. This was a woman made for love, made for him.

A sudden rocking yanked him back to reality as the carriage stopped.

"d.a.m.n it!" he growled. "We've arrived." Jack looked down into her eyes. She sat on his lap, her lips swollen from his kisses, her skin touched with a ripe flush. His groin tightened, but he ruthlessly ignored it. She was his for the taking. He knew it. But before he made that leap, he had to discover for certain if their marriage could be annulled.

In the meantime, it would cause no harm to remind her who had the upper hand. Let her taste the cost of being married to a man who didn't wish to be. Jaw clenched, he pulled Fiona's pelisse back into place and smoothed her skirts.

A soft rap sounded on the door.

"Oh, no!" Fiona struggled to get off his lap, but Jack held her there.

"Jack!" she hissed. "Simon will see."

"Then let him." He tightened his hold, his expression grim. "You are my wife now. That gives me the

right to hold you whenever I wish."

Fiona had the d.a.m.nedest effect on him, making him possessive and irritated at the same time. It was yet

another reason to end this farce, and quickly.

The carriage door opened, and Simon flushed at seeing Fiona in Jack's lap.

"The steps," Jack ordered.

Simon nodded, his gaze directed at the ground. He let down the stairs, then moved aside.

Jack lifted her and stepped out of the carriage, carrying her to the broad steps that rose to the doors of

his house.

"Jack!" Fiona hissed. "Put me down. Your servants will see, too."

"Let them."

Fiona wished she dared struggle but feared that would only make their entrance appear more ridiculous.

As Jack began to climb the stairs, Fiona looked up at her new home. Five stories of stately mansion rose

above her head. Heavy molding around the large windows and doors bespoke a quality and

craftsmanship that was obvious even in the dim night. "Good G.o.d! It's ma.s.sive!" Jack paused with his foot on the last step. "I do wish you'd keep those comments until we are in bed, love. I would appreciate them all the more there."

Fiona's cheeks heated. "Stop that!" Jack's wicked grin flashed as he stepped onto the portico. The huge doors opened as if by magic. Within moments, they were inside, the doors closing. Fiona had a hurried impression of black and red marble flagstone, rich carpets, and the glitter of a huge chandelier presiding over a foyer elaborate in gilt-edged side tables and large, golden framed mirrors.

Jack walked briskly past a stiff individual who could only be the butler and a stern, gray-haired woman whose keys proclaimed her the housekeeper. The shadowy figures of at least a dozen footmen blurred in the background.

"My lord," the butler said as Jack walked past. "We didn't know you were returning. There is no fire lit

in your chamber. Shall I-"

"No," Jack said, taking the stairs two at a time. "That is not necessary." He paused at the top, his gaze insolently caressing Fiona. "Please bring a large breakfast in the morning. Avery large breakfast."

Fiona had thought she couldn't get more embarra.s.sed, but she was wrong. Her entire body flushed.How dare he do such a thing in front of the servants? He is angry. I knew he would be.She just hadn't expected he'd be so bitter.

Jack carried Fiona down a long hallway, his footsteps m.u.f.fled by thick red carpet.

Fiona put her irritation behind her. Tomorrow, she'd have Jack introduce her to the servants properly, and all would be set to rights. For now, she wanted to stop thinking. To stop feeling. She yearned for the delight of losing herself in a large featherbed and fresh sheets.

He opened a large door and carried her inside a huge chamber to a bed that towered at the center of

one wall. He paused at the edge of the mattress and looked down at her, his expression inscrutable. Fiona's breath shortened. She was agonizingly aware of the bed beneath her, of Jack's arms around her.This was it; the moment he'd take his rights as her husband. Her body tingled, her breath shortened.

Jack lifted her a bit higher and then, without ceremony, tossed her onto the bed.

Fiona bounced, gasping as she tried to find some purchase in the sea of covers and pillows. "Jack!"

He was already crossing the room to the open door.

She scrambled to her knees, her hair falling about her, her skirts flipped this way and that. "Where are

you going?"

"To see my solicitor."

"At this time of the night?"

"For what I pay him, he can drag his lazy a.r.s.e from bed." His expression was hard. "Meanwhile, you

may sleep here. At least for tonight."

Her chest ached as if he'd struck her. "Jack, the feud-"

"Will resolve itself, with our help or without it." He opened the door. "Sleep well, wife. This will be the

only night you enjoy my bed."

"But you can't just-"

The door slammed, the sound echoing through the high-ceilinged chamber.

Chapter Five.

The MacLean curse is an old one, placed upon the family in the times of Robert the Bruce by the infamous White Witch. She resides in the forest outside of Muir da Og. They say she's as lovely as a sunrise, and her only pleasure is in eating the hearts of the human men she's spurned. OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT Fiona awoke, aware before she opened her eyes that she was not alone.

Stretching, she turned to her side and saw Jack sitting beside the fireplace, the flames casting shadows over his face. His cravat was untied, his coat thrown across a chair, his shirtsleeves rolled back from powerful forearms. He held a gla.s.s of amber liquid as he gazed unseeingly into the flickering flames.

Fiona rolled to one elbow and pushed her hair from her eyes. "Well? What did your solicitor say?"

Jack did not even turn to look at her. "You know d.a.m.n well what he said. It would take an act of Parliament to get the marriage annulled, unless you agreed to say I'd not touched you." His lips twisted.

"You wouldn't, would you?" "No." He never looked away from the fire. The flames cracked and popped, a faint warmth reaching the bed. Fiona was glad for the heat. She'd fumed when he'd left, but the cold of the room had made her seek shelter in the huge bed. She'd taken off her pelisse and attempted to untie her boots, but the laces had knotted and her cold fingers had been unable to loosen them. She'd finally climbed between the sheets fully dressed, buried her head in a pillow, and fallen asleep almost immediately.

From his chair, Jack now regarded her stonily, his gla.s.s held tightly in one hand, his gaze hard.

She plucked at the heavily hemmed edge of the sheet. "I daresay you're tired. Perhaps you should sleep -" He slammed his gla.s.s onto the side table, his blazing glare silencing her. "I don't need anyone to take care of me! I am stuck with this marriage, but I do not have to put up with the mewing of a wife I never wanted!" Fiona gripped the sheet with both hands. "Very well," she said in a reasonably steady voice. "I will never again inquire after your well-being. But do not think I will accept poor behavior. We can at least be pleasant to each other until we have the child. After that, I will move back to Scotland."