Her shoulders straightened. Her temper flared. He was, after all, laughing at her.

"Taylor, I'll be happy to explain about Belle."

"I could care less about the woman," she replied. "I don't give a hoot what you do with your time, sir."

It wasn't what she said but how she said it that got him riled up. God, she was stubborn. He decided to let her stew in her own imagination. Come morning, he'd set her straight, but only if she wasn't still sounding like a surly shrew.

"Are you going to get out of my way?"

"Yes."

She didn't move. Lucas decided he was going to have to pick her up, carry her back to the bed, then toss her there with the order to stay put. He reached for her but stopped when she pushed his hands away.

"Marriage is like pregnancy," she announced.

He leaned back. She'd certainly gotten his full attention with that comment. He decided then and there he was never going to be surprised by anything she said to him in the future. Damned if she wasn't the most illogical woman he'd ever encountered. He wanted to laugh but didn't dare. He'd already noticed how sensitive her feelings were. God, she was young.

And inexperienced. And sweet and beautiful and all the things any man in his right mind would want to grab onto and hold close for the rest of his life.

"How is marriage like pregnancy?" he heard himself ask.

"You either are or you aren't," she told him very matter-of-factly.

"Taylor-"

She interrupted him. "There aren't any shades of gray. Until the annulment papers are duly executed, I believe both of us should try to respect our vows. We should be..."

"Faithful?" he supplied when she didn't go on.

"Yes, we should be faithful to one another. It would be the polite thing to do."

She bowed her head so he wouldn't see how much it embarrassed her to discuss such an intimate topic.

She noticed then she was gripping her hands together and immediately stopped the telling action.

Lucas stared down at the top of her head. Because she couldn't see his expression, he felt it safe to smile.

"Are you telling me I should be celibate?" he asked.

"I'm going to be," she answered.

"It isn't the same thing at all."

"Why isn't it?"

He didn't have a ready answer. In truth, he only just realized how strange his own statement sounded.

"Women have the same urges," he explained. "But they have to be in love first. Men don't."

This reasoning made perfectly good sense to Lucas. Taylor didn't see it that way. She shook her head.

"What you're saying, sir, is that the majority of women have virtue and practice restraint, while the majority of men, yourself included, will rut with anything passing by."

"That about sums it up," he agreed, just to irritate her.

She kept her temper under control. It almost killed her. She absolutely refused to get into an argument with him. She'd already said quite enough. Lucas could either accept or reject her opinions. If he proved to be like all the men Madam had warned her about and have the morals of a goat like his half brother, then Taylor decided she was better off finding out sooner than later. She wasn't vulnerable now, because she wasn't in love with him. She had all the symptoms of a woman smitten by an attraction. She became breathless whenever he stood close to her, had difficulty holding onto a thought for more than a second whenever he stared at her, found herself wishing he would kiss her all the time, and wanted him to think she was just a little bit appealing. Lord, wasn't that proof enough she wasn't immune to his charm and his good looks? Warning bells sounded in her head. No doubt about it, she liked him entirely too much. She was going to have to put an immediate stop to it. This one-sided attraction wasn't just dangerous, it was also hopeless.

And all because the obtuse man would rather be hanged than married.

Belle. She hated both the name and the woman. She decided to give Lucas something to think about on his way down to his liaison.

"Ladies don't have urges, sir, as you so indelicately stated. Only common trollops are afflicted with lustful thoughts." Like Belle , she silently added.

She tried to walk away from him then. Lucas wouldn't let her go anywhere. He planted his hands on either side of her head, effectively trapping her.

He obviously wasn't finished discussing the issue. "Is that so?" he said.

She looked up at him, thinking to tell him, yes, it was so, and then remind him of the lateness in the hour, but the words got lost in the back of her mind. The look of tenderness in his eyes held her full attention.

There simply wasn't room for anything else. God, he was beautiful.

He was thinking the very same thing about her. Whenever she gave him her full attention, his throat felt like it was closing up on him. Those eyes. They were magical to him and as clear and blue as the sky over Montana Territory.

Yes, she was lovely all right. But she was also as stubborn as an old mule and as opinionated as an out-of-office politician. The innocent was speaking with authority on topics she knew absolutely nothing about. Like urges.

He couldn't seem to quit staring at her. He knew he should leave. Belle had probably already made her way through one bottle of good whiskey. It didn't matter. He couldn't make himself move away from Taylor. The little woman mesmerized him. He wanted to kiss her, then decided he would do just that. He reached over and cupped her chin in his hand. He nudged her head back a little further. Then he slowly leaned down. His mouth brushed over hers in a gentle caress. He knew he'd startled her because she tried to jerk away. He wouldn't let her. He kissed her again, but this time he lingered over the task.

She let out a little sigh of pleasure and grabbed hold of the front of his jacket. It was all the encouragement he needed. His mouth settled on top of hers in an altogether different sort of kiss. The kind that consumed.

His mouth was hard, hot, wet. Her lips were soft, willing. It wasn't enough for him. He forced her mouth open by applying pressure on her chin with his thumb, and once she'd given in to the silent demand, his tongue swept inside to reclaim the taste of her. He stroked the silky interior of her mouth with blatant ownership. God, she tasted good.

Passion ignited with lightning speed. Taylor wasn't the least bit passive. Her arms closed around his waist.

Her fingers dug into his back. She could feel his hot skin underneath his shirt. And his strength. She felt that, too. His muscle was as sleek and hard as steel. The heat radiating from his body and his mouth fairly overwhelmed her. God help her, she never wanted him to stop touching her.

He couldn't get enough of her. The taste of her drove him wild. Her tongue dueled with his, and Lord, there wasn't a damned thing timid about her now. He heard himself groan. He thrust his tongue back inside her mouth. She sucked on it. He pulled her up tight against him. His groin rubbed against her. Her hips instinctively cuddled him.

His mouth slanted over hers again and again. They clung together for what seemed an eternity. The way she stroked him told him she didn't want him to stop. Her mouth was every bit as hot and wet as his was.

He liked that. There was lots of tongue. He liked that, too.

He ate at her lips, devoured her scent, and damned if it wasn't the most carnal kiss he'd ever experienced.

She whimpered low in the back of her throat. The sound drove him to the limit of his control. He knew it was time to stop. He was already picturing her naked and thinking how good it was going to feel when he was fully imbedded inside her, with her legs wrapped around him and her breasts rubbing against his chest.

The groan gathering in the back of his throat turned into a growl. Lucas tore his mouth away from hers and tried to regain control over his body. His breathing was harsh, ragged. His forehead was pressed against the door now, his eyes tightly closed, and he had to force himself to let go of her.

Taylor wasn't making it easy for him. She was still stroking him, making him burn for more. He could feel her trembling. He was arrogantly pleased over that notice.

The hell she didn't have urges.

She had never felt so overwhelmed by anything in all her life. She was shaking just like she had on the ship when she thought they were going to drown. Fear had been the reason then. Passion was the culprit this time.

Oh, God, she was a trollop. Her hands immediately dropped to her sides. She stood rigid against him and closed her eyes while she concentrated on getting her breathing to slow down.

He noticed the change that came over her. He wondered what absurdity she was thinking about now.

She wanted him to put his arms around her again and give her another make-me-senseless kiss. Lucas wasn't helping her recover her ladylike facade either, for he leaned down and started to nibble on her earlobe. She shouldn't have liked it, but she did. A warm shiver passed down her spine. His breath, so warm and sweet, tickled her skin. Her knees were once again feeling weak. Lord, she could feel her control slipping away again.

"Whatever are you doing?"

"Kissing you."

Yes, yes, that much was obvious, but why, Taylor wanted to say. She couldn't get the words out. Her sigh of pleasure was all she could manage.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked in a husky whisper.

Of course she wanted him to stop. She'd only just remembered where he was going and who he was meeting. The brute. Kissing her one minute and running off to another woman the next.

"Do you?" he asked again.

She put her arms around his waist. "I don't know," she answered.

The man was driving her to distraction. His mouth was open and hot against the side of her neck. She tilted her head to the side so he'd have better access.

"You smell nice. Like flowers."

Soap, she wanted to say. It was scented. She couldn't get that explanation out of her mouth either.

Mr. Ross was turning her mind into mush.

"Farmers name their cows Belle."

He smiled against her neck. He acted as though he hadn't heard her comment. She felt compelled to repeat it. "I read it in Mrs. Livingston's journal, and since it was published, it has to be true. They definitely name their cows Belle." Think about that while you're wooing your friend.

He kissed her forehead. "You'd like me to keep on kissing you, wouldn't you, Taylor?"

Lord, he was arrogant. And right. She was honest enough to admit the truth. "Yes," she said.

"You know what I think?"

The way he asked the question made her want to sigh again. His voice was deep and husky and how she loved his slow drawl.

"What do you think?" she asked breathlessly.

"You've got a few urges of your own. Do you understand what that means?"

He wanted her to admit that women had the same lustful cravings as men and that he'd been right all along.

"Yes, I understand what it means."

Her shoulders slumped. She pushed away from him and tried to walk away. He grabbed her from behind, wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her still, then leaned down and demanded she explain.

"Tell me what you just learned," he ordered, impatiently waiting for her answer so he could do a fair amount of male gloating.

"I'm a trollop. There, are you happy now? Belle's going to get weary of waiting for you."

"She'll keep on drinking until I get there."

"She sounds delightful."

"She is," he replied. "You aren't a trollop."

She pushed away from him and then turned around to confront him. Her hands settled on her hips. "I'm usually not," she corrected. "But you make me want to do things I normally wouldn't think about doing.

When you touch me, I... well, I'm only a trollop around you. I therefore suggest we stay away from each other. Please leave now before I disgrace myself again."

She looked like she wanted to cry. He felt guilty because he'd teased her. He was also feeling inordinately pleased with her. The compliment she'd given him, deliberate or not, made him want to smile.

She got rattled when he touched her. A man couldn't ask for more than that.

He felt he should say something to calm her. He was her husband, after all, and it was the least he could do. Husbands should try to soothe their wives when they were upset, shouldn't they? What difference did it make that they were only going to be married for a little while?

"You're my wife. It's all right to be a trollop with me."

She caught herself before she snorted. Her expression showed her vexation, however. "But you'd rather be hanged than married, remember?"

Lord, she was a sight when she was riled up. Her eyes blazed with anger and the look on her face would have made a weak man immediately contrite. He wasn't weak, he reminded himself. "You've got that right," he replied.

She threaded her fingers through her hair in obvious agitation. "Do leave, sir."

He thought that was a fine idea. He walked over to the door, reached for the knob, then stopped. His right hand went to his vest pocket to make certain he had his key, then to the other pocket when the first was empty.

He turned around again and walked over to his wardrobe. Taylor watched his every move. She was trying to get her emotions under control. Honest to heaven, she didn't understand her own mind anymore, she decided. Mr. Ross hadn't done anything to cause her to get this upset. Yet she still wanted to weep.

He found the key in the pocket of the jacket he'd worn earlier in the day. Lucas closed the wardrobe, then turned to look at Taylor.

"Belle fed me when I was a boy... after my mother died. They were close friends."

He wasn't certain why he offered the explanation. He guessed it was because he didn't want her to worry. He also didn't want her to think he was an ogre.

Taylor was fairly overcome with relief. Belle wasn't a cow. She was a friend of the family.

He'd been honest with her, and so she decided it was now her turn. "I was jealous," she blurted out.

"You were right about that."

He was pleased by her confession. From the strain he heard in her voice, he knew the admission had been difficult for her. Because she looked so solemn, he didn't smile. He gave her an abrupt nod before he turned away.