"Shh, shh," he said softly. The bed rocked as he left it.

Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision.

Ninny!

She berated herself inwardly, as she swiped at her eyes with the back of her arm.

He returned and handed her a handkerchief.

She took the snowy white cloth and wiped her eyes, blew her nose. "I am sorry," she said. "I am so sorry."

"It is all right, Sunny. Don't worry about it." His voice was deep, a little hoarse sounding.

"Everything was so lovely. I had to spoil it." She sniffed mightily. "I don't understand myself."

"Nothing is spoiled."

"How can you say that?"

He didn't answer. He just caressed her back, apparently content to watch her sob and sniffle. As the sense of being upset began to ease, humiliation took its place. She could feel his eyes burning into her. She could feel the gears in his mind working. There would be questions. She held her breath, feeling her muscles tense as she waited...

James saw the tension stiffening her body. But he couldn't stop himself from asking. "Freddy did that to you, didn't he?"

She compressed her lips. She wouldn't look at him. But she did nod, ever so slightly.

"Did you like it?"

"Too much." Sadness resonated in her voice.

"Women are supposed to like it. Why was it too much?"

"Because he should no' do things like that."

"Wasn't it his decision?"

She shook her head. "He's," she said and paused. "He was only a man. Frances said it was my place to set limits."

James caressed her back again, using a slow up and down motion until he could feel her muscles begin to relax. "I thought you said women were to be under the dominion of men?"

"Healthy men."

"Did his illness affect his wits?"

"Oh, what a cruel question!"

"Not at all, Sunny. I am trying to find out why you would take responsibility for Freddy's actions." He gave her a soft caress on the back. "I ask again, had his wits become addled by his illness?"

"Not at first; that is, not when we were first wed."

"And he pleasured you then?"

She nodded. "I was quite shocked."

"I've no doubt you were."

"I was no' supposed to be in his chamber. But he would visit me late at night, when the whole house was asleep and none of the servants were awake to tell on us."

"So it was a naughty secret between you?"

"Very naughty." Her voice was softer.

"Did you do things for Freddy?"

She lowered her eyes and a flush spread over her cheeks. She looked suddenly girlish. "Yes, sometimes. If he felt right enough for it."

"Did he ever come?"

"No." She said the word quickly even as the flush intensified over her cheeks. "H-he did no' get so hard. Not like you do."

"But he liked the things you did?"

"Yes, he said he did." She inhaled sharply. "We had to stop."

"Because of his health?"

"Yes, it was too much for him." She turned away and lay down and hugged the pillow. "He changed."

"Did he?"

"He began to be so angry. At himself, for all the things he could not do, could not be. I did no' know how to bring him ease. Nothing I said did any good." Sadness had entered her voice. "He didn't need my love. I didn't know what he needed. But it was no' my kind of love."

He didn't know what to say. Damn it all. What wasted years for her!

"Those things you did for Freddy, you did them for Silas Chapman?"

"Yes," she said softly.

James flushed hot with jealousy. "But he didn't do the same for you?"

Insensitive to ask, but he couldn't stop himself.

"He wanted to. I would not allow it. He stopped asking."

"What did he do for you?"

"Well, he touched me. I could not, do you understand? I could not. So I pretended my pleasure."

"You didn't pretend for me."

She shook her head.

"Why the difference?" He lay behind her.

"Because things are more."

"More? More what?" He caressed her hair with a light touch.

"More profound." Her voice trailed off sleepily; however, she was not yet asleep. James let his head come to rest against the thick mass of her curling hair. For a long time he lay there, ignoring the insistent throb of his erection whilst softly stroking her hair and inhaling the redolence of lavender and her womanly scent.

Jasmine would suit her better.

It was his last thought before sleep claimed him.

Chapter Fifteen.

At the sound of masculine humming, Sunny awoke, and she opened her eyes, trying to focus in the dim light. A sense of comfort, of intense well-being, glowed within her. But something more. A burgeoning sense that something good was about to happen. An adventure, waiting for her to experience it. She sat and flung the bed curtains aside. Candlelight illuminated the chamber.

James stood at the washstand, dressed in his banyan, sliding his razor over his cheek. She held her breath. She had never witnessed a man's morning toilet. Silent as she could be, she watched him shave, feeling the intimacy of the moment. Enjoying it immensely.

He splashed his face then dried it vigorously with a towel. He glanced up in the mirror, his expression changing, letting her know he had caught sight of her.

Her heart sped up. A smile tugged at her mouth but she held it down, not knowing what his mood would be.

He turned.

He beckoned her with his hand. "Come, love, stand for me."

At his commanding tone, she caught her breath. A little thrill chased down through her belly. Her legs went weak. But she arose from the bed.

He simply stared at her.

"What time is it?" she asked, hearing hoarseness in her voice.

"The night is very old."

"Oh." The wind howled outside and the walls of the inn rattled. She hugged her shoulders and glanced about, wondering how sturdy the walls really were. "From the outside, this inn looked far grander than it has turned out to be."

He gave his face another wipe with the towel then tossed it down to the washstand. He grinned at her. "Just how experienced are you with coaching inns?"

Her heart began to beat very fast. Her wits scattered as though the wind outside had blown them askew. She didn't know what to say. As it turned out, she was quite familiar with inns and clandestine meetings in rented rooms.

James watched Sunny's face take on the expression of a hare caught in a trap.

Damn. Damn him to hell.

Why had he said that? Why hadn't he been more mindful of who he was speaking to?

Because he'd been distracted by the sight of the firelight passing through her thin nightdress. Obviously, she had met with Silas Chapman in rented rooms. That much was clear from the change in her expression.

He had to know.

It was insensitive, but he had to know. "Did you meet with Chapman in rooms like this?"

She nodded, still running her hands up and down her upper arms.

Yes, he had known, inside, that she must have done that. Where else would she have met with her lover?

But the duplicity!

She had to have had plotted, planned and lied to those around her. "Sunny, you took a terrible chance."

Her face crumpled and she closed her eyes, nodding furiously.

"The scandal. It would have ruined you."

"I know," she said, her voice very small.

Such a scandal would have touched and affected the whole Blayne family. Her parents. Her sisters. God, his own sisters and their young daughters, soon to be launched in the marriage mart.

Sudden realization of just how self-consumed Sunny was capable of being hit him like a blow.

Her pedestal was forever knocked down.

Smashed to bits.

His heart felt broken into bits, lying amid the rubble of that pedestal. All this time, since he had first seen her again, he had clung to the hope that the others had been mistaken. That Sunny herself was mistaken. He'd wanted to believe in her purity.

Her virginity had given him reason to hope.

Now he could no longer deceive himself.

Sunny was-no! He wouldn't put a label to it.

But why had he asked?

He hadn't really wanted to know.

Now he couldn't stop himself. "Sunny, you met with this man, alone in rented rooms. For the purpose of bedding with him?"

She nodded. Her face flamed red.

"But you're still a virgin?"