And perhaps he could imagine it very well, he thought, watching her pace in front of the hearth. "I am terribly sorry this has been so humiliating for you, but unfortunately there was nothing I could do."

"Yes, so you have said, Julian. Believe me, you have made it quite clear how unfortunate this is for you."

He had no idea what she meant by that but did not like the tone of her voice. "I don't like this any more than you do-"

"But it's not the same for you! You weren't forced into this, I was! I am your chattel now-I might as well be a fat old cow!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" he snapped, and stood abruptly, raking a hand through his hair in exasperation. "You are not my chattel, Claudia-ah, to hell with it. I won't argue something so foolish. Look here, what is done is done, and I do not intend to dwell on it."

"Meaning?" she asked, folding her arms defensively across her middle.

"Meaning," he said, planting one elbow on the mantel and peering sharply into her face, "we are quite married now, and you might as well accept that fact, because God knows, it will go easier on us both once you do!"

"Oh, I've accepted it, my lord," she said low. "Just as my father said-I have made my bed, and now I am lying in it. How could I possibly accept this folly any better than that?"

"I would suggest, madam, that your petulance is not helping matters in the least," he muttered irritably.

"My petulance?" she exclaimed indignantly. "Pray tell, Julian, what would you like me to do? Pretend this is all quite all right? That I somehow wanted this to happen?"

Yet another reminder that she despised him and one he certainly did not need. "Do us both an enormous favor and don't make this any worse than it already is!" he said hotly.

"I could not possibly make it any worse than it is!" she exclaimed. "And don't expect me to make it better for you!"

Cold anger shot through him. Unthinkingly, he grabbed her elbow and yanked her to him. "Don't push me, Claudia," he warned her. "There were two of us in that hothouse, and as I recall, you were enjoying it as much as I was!"

Her eyes were suddenly glittering with fury. "How dare you! Let go of me," she muttered angrily, squirm-ing in his grasp.

"Not until I am damn good and ready," he responded through clenched teeth, and jerked her hard into his chest, crushing her in his arms as he quickly descended to devour her luscious mouth. She struggled fiercely, tried to push his arms away. But then something happened-her struggle was suddenly filled with an urgency he fully understood. She opened her mouth beneath his, and he thrust eagerly into the warm recess, mimicking another, earthier motion. He drew her lip between his teeth, savoring every nip of her plump flesh. And then her hands were around his neck, pulling his head down to hers as she pressed her lithe body to his, against the hard shaft of an arousal he had not felt in months-years.

Then suddenly she stopped, tried to turn her head away from his, and he felt the tears on her cheeks. He dragged his mouth across her cheek, to one blue-gray eye, then pressed his forehead against hers. "It doesn't have to be so hard, sweetheart," he murmured raggedly. "Don't .. . don't make this so hard for us. It's our wedding day, and I want to make love to you. I want to bury myself deep inside you and feel you wrap yourself around me. I want to give you pleasure you have dared not dream of and I would that you want the same. Let me love you, Claudia."

With a soft whimper, she closed her eyes. "No," she whispered helplessly, and her hands began to slide from his shoulders. "It will only hurt us in the end, don't you see?"

Julian caught her wrists. "Yes. I won't let it hurt us," he insisted. "Just let me love you." He lowered his head again, before she could protest, brushing her lips gently, touching her with the tip of his tongue, skimming the seam of her lips. He let go of her wrists, sliding his hands to her back and the tiny row of buttons there. She didn't resist him; she grasped the lapels of his waistcoat and clung to him. And when his hands slipped underneath her gown to touch her back, her lips parted with a soft sigh and she met his tongue with her own, thrusting boldly into his mouth. Mother of God.

Her tongue was like a flame, licking and tantalizing him beyond reason. The fire ran like a river to his groin, building to an unimaginable heat. He pushed the gown from her shoulders, his fingers gliding over her satin skin, down to her waist as he kissed her more deeply.

He abruptly lifted his head; her eyes were glittering like gems, their color almost deep water blue. Her lips, swollen from his kiss, were as red and as plump as summer berries. He dropped his gaze to her breasts, drew an uneven breath. They were partially covered by a chemise that clung to her; hardened nipples jutting against silk from two perfect globes. Brushing the pad of his thumbs across them, he felt them stiffen even more as her fingers curled tightly into his arms, and he hoped to high heaven he would have the strength to hold himself until it was right for her.

"You make me feel so . . . so helpless," she whispered. As beautiful as she was, as alluring as she was, she was an innocent. But her eyes . . . the bewildered hunger in her eyes penetrated his consciousness, sent a heat swirling through him, pushing down to the fire already flaming out of control in his groin.

Julian gritted his teeth and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him in a fierce embrace. "I am helpless too, Claudia. I want to make love to you so badly I may very well expire with it," he murmured thickly, and buried his face in her neck, drawing the pearl dangling from her lobe into his mouth. It was impossible to let go of her, and damned near impossible to think of her innocence above his own raging need. He grazed his cheek against hers, fully intending to end this now, fully intending to wait until Claudia was ready-however long it took.

But as his hands slid to her shoulders and he began to lift his head, she turned her face into him, dragged her lips across his cheek, searching for his mouth. Surprised, he was motionless for a moment, long enough for Claudia to slip her tongue between his lips and kiss him with an ardor that matched his own and quickly driving him to the brink of madness. Without thinking, Julian lifted her into his arms and carried her into the adjoining bedroom.

He had no idea when or how her gown came off. He only knew that she was almost naked in his arms-he ripped the neckcloth from his neck, clawed at his shirt until it was gone as he gazed ravenously at her body. When he tugged gently at the drawstring of her petticoats, they fell away, pooling at her feet. She was resplendent, radiant. Julian slowly sank to his haunches, trailing his hands down her side, over her hips and thighs. Carefully, he lifted one foot, then the other, until she was free of the garment, and steadied her when she started to sway. She wore just a light silk chemise and a thin pair of drawers.

He looked up, caught her gaze as he slowly slid the drawers over the gentle flair of her hips. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder as he lifted her feet to free her of the fabric. His hands glided up her legs, around to her bottom, and he impulsively buried his face in the gentle swell of her belly, calling on everything he had to respect her innocence, to take his time to show her the many ways a man could love a woman. He had wanted her for so long, just like this, in his arms . . . it was torture not to take her with the full force of the fire coursing through him. But Julian forced himself to rise, sliding his hands over the thin silk chemise that barely covered her, up her rib cage, over her breasts, hardly touching her at all.

"You are beautiful," he murmured, and reached for the pins in her hair, releasing one thick tress at a time. A goddess, he thought, and kissed her lightly, toying with her lips as he reached for the thin straps of her chemise and pushed them off her shoulders.

The chemise slipped away, baring what were exquisite breasts. He lowered his head, flicked his tongue across one tip. Claudia swayed into him, bracing herself against his arms. His body, throbbing with painful anticipation, strained impatiently against his trousers. He cupped her breasts gingerly, almost reverently, felt them swell in his palms as Claudia drew another ragged breath. Her eyes were unfocused; a dark blush had flooded her cheeks. With the back of his hand, Julian brushed her brow. "Claudia," he whispered, and kissed her forehead before stepping away to sit on the edge of the bed.

As he feasted his gaze on her body, she shyly dropped her head, folded her arms across her bare stomach. He had thought her beautiful for years, but he had never understood how beautiful. Her body was not of this earth-legs long and shapely, hips flaring delicately from a slender waist. A dark patch of curls at the apex of her thighs, delectable breasts. He didn't deserve this. She wrapped her arms even tighter about her middle, unconsciously lifting her breasts.

"Come here, sweetheart," he said softly, and extended his hand. Claudia glanced at it, almost reluctantly put her hand in his. Julian pulled her into his lap, wrapped her in a warm embrace, gliding his lips across her neck, her cheeks and mouth, until she was responding to him, her hands seeking his chest and shoulders. He slowly leaned backward, taking her with him, then rolled her onto her back. "Don't think," he murmured. "Don't do anything but lie there and let me make love to you." And silencing any protest, he trailed a row of kisses from her lips, down her chin, to her breasts. As he laved one hard peak, Claudia squirmed beneath him; Julian slipped an arm beneath her, catching her to him. He took her fully into his mouth, nipping the rigid peak with his teeth, swirling his tongue around it. He massaged her other breast until the pliant flesh grew firm in his hand, then shifted to give it equal homage with his mouth. Above him, Claudia made a sound in her throat; a half moan, half cry. Julian tightened his grip on her, drew her farther into his mouth and mercilessly laved her while his hand floated down her belly and over her thighs.

She moaned then, a deep, aching moan, and Julian lifted his head to look at the face that had haunted him these last two years. One hand rested carelessly over her heart, the other was twined in the mess of dark hair above her head. Her eyes glittered in the near darkness- she said nothing, just gazed at him.

Merciful God, he would never survive this-he was perilously close to exploding as it was. A wave of unbearable lust suddenly moved him forward and he kissed her roughly, devouring her small sigh as his fingers skimmed her inner thighs, tangled in the dark curls between her legs. Claudia lurched at his touch; but Julian caught her shoulders and hugged her tightly to him as he began a deliberate exploration.

She began to writhe beneath him, arching into his hand, moaning against his neck. It was almost more than Julian could bear, but he kept his pace, exploring her with gentle insistence, probing deeper with his fingers, stretching her, preparing her for him, until he felt the thin membrane that sealed her chastity.

He withdrew, kissed her passionately before rolling onto his back to remove his trousers, and quickly came over her again, reveling in the feel of the silken skin of her belly against his erection. Claudia reacted as if she had been singed. Whimpering softly, she flinched where he touched her; her hands clenched fitfully in his hair. The sound of her breath, he noticed, was as deep and desperate as his own.

He wedged one knee between her thighs, grazing his erection over the soft patch of curls. A sharp gasp and her hand found his wrist and clung to it, her nails digging into his skin when he moved to her entrance and pushed gently. He gritted his teeth in a supreme act of self control. "Shh . .." he whispered, more to himself than to her, and pushed a little more, slipping into the tight, wet heat of her. He lowered his head, touched his forehead to hers, and pushed a little farther, clenching his jaw harder as her body tightly surrounded him, pulling him deeper into her and squeezing the passion from him. His hips pushed forward again, a little at a time, stretching her open, until he felt the barrier of her maidenhead.

He paused, lowered himself to her. She was panting now, her eyes wide with apprehension, a thin sheen of perspiration covering her skin. Julian licked the salty hollow of her neck. "Hold on to me, sweetheart," he murmured. Her arms obediently slid around his neck, and Julian lowered his head to kiss her, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth at the same moment he lifted his hips and drove past her barrier.

Her body seized tightly; she went rigid in his arms, but she made no sound. Julian panicked a little; he kissed her gently, tenderly, stroked her neck and shoulders until she at last released a long sigh. Slowly, her body began to relax, and very timidly, she began to respond to his kiss--and Julian began to move. Gingerly at first, sliding gently in and out of her in long, patient strokes that almost killed him. Moaning softly, Claudia's knees came up around his waist, and Julian's desire began to boil in his groin.

He shifted his weight to better reach the core of her, and began to move with urgency, thrusting deep inside her, reaching for her womb, wanting her to feel the same, incredible passion that swirled through him. He wanted her to feel the same intensity of anticipation he felt now, his body dormant for so long, filled and straining to the point of bursting. She threw one arm above her head, grasping at pillows and bed hangings as her hips began to rise to meet him. Julian groaned deep-he was past the point of tender lovemaking, had fallen into a sea of desire that pulled him under with its current. The sea swept him forward then pulled him back, sweeping forward again, farther still, harder and deeper. She rose to meet each onslaught, swirling her hips in an ancient lover's dance. Julian was fast losing control as the desire spiraled tighter and tighter in him, and reaching between their joined bodies, he urgently stroked her as he plunged deeper into her warmth, oblivious to all else . . .

Until he heard the sound of her tears.

That sound splintered like glass into his consciousness at the moment she climaxed. But he was already lost. Her body was convulsing hard around him, gripping him tightly, and drawing his own, violent climax. He fairly exploded; the life drained from him like a break in a dam, rushing furiously into her depths.

And Julian felt the faint stirrings of love deep in his soul.

With a final thrust, he lowered himself to her, resting his forehead against her shoulder as he sought to drag air into his lungs. She shivered beneath him, the aftermath of her passion and her tears. He blindly felt her face, his fingers dragging across the path of wetness on her cheeks, and his heart wrenched painfully in his chest.

He had hurt her.

And she had destroyed him.

The wind had picked up, was howling outside and rattling the windowpanes. Claudia lay entwined in Julian's arms, entranced by the feel of the heavy breath of his sleep on her neck as she tried desperately to deny what had happened between them.

Oh, but it had happened . . . the most extraordinary experience of her life, the most intense, physical release, running the gamut from great pain to exquisite pleasure. He was right-it was a pleasure she had dared not dream, a freedom of spirit that she had not even thought possible for a woman. The intimacy of that act was extraordinary, the trust it demanded, the strength it required, together building to the most unbelievable experience a man and woman could share. Somehow, he had released her soul to the heavens.

But not without taking a little piece of her heart in exchange.

The experience had been so moving on so many dif- ferent levels that she had not been able to stop the tears. Tears of joy, of frustration, of fear, of wonder -all of it, everything she had experienced in the last two weeks had finally culminated in one explosive moment, and in the course of it, she had lost a little of herself to him. So soon!

There had been no words between them when it was over, nothing but a gentle kiss to her teary eyes, and then he had slipped out of her, rolled over onto his back, and thrown one arm over his eyes as his fingers twined with hers. He had not touched her again, not until he was deep in the clutches of sleep and unconsciously gathered her close, making her feel safe and secure and wanted.

Claudia gingerly pushed his arm from her belly and inched her way to the edge of the bed. Wrapping the thin, cotton coverlet around her, she stood slowly, careful not to wake him. The only light came from the dying fire in the adjoining room, but it was enough for her to make out his naked form. His chest was broad and muscled, the expanse of it covered with a fine layer of down that tapered to a line running to the nest at his groin. She shivered, pulled the coverlet tightly about her, and gazed in wonder at his body. It fascinated her-she cocked her head to one side, considering the size and weight of his sex, wondering how he managed to walk about with that hanging between his legs. Or ride, for goodness sake! And how it had ever fit inside her . . .

Her face flamed; Julian suddenly rolled over in his sleep, onto his stomach. Claudia's eyes widened slightly at the sight of firm, muscular buttocks-the flame in her face was spreading rapidly down her neck, and she quickly turned away, fairly certain she should not be gaping at a man like that, even if he was asleep.

Even if he was her husband.

Oh, God.

She hurried into the outer room and sat heavily at the table, staring morosely at the uneaten food. The wine Julian had poured had been left untouched; she lifted the goblet to her lips and drank thirstily, hoping it would numb her. Her body still tingled, still ached from that incredible experience.

How could she have let it happen?

Of course she knew she would have to lie with him, but she had never thought she would like it so very much! How was it that he could do such incredible things to her body? I want to bury myself deep inside you, feel you wrap yourself around me. . . let me love you, Claudia. Every time she thought of it, she felt the queer tingle in the pit of her stomach. Trembling, she put the goblet down and buried her face in her hands. She possessed some sort of character defect, surely-what else could explain the physical desire-the lust -she felt for that Rake? What, must she recount his many misdeeds against her every time he so much as looked at her? This was a disaster! She would give him her heart, she knew she would, and he would crush it, toss it aside like so much rubbish in favor of a new attraction. He had done it before to her. He had done it to many other women.

Had Phillip?

She lifted her head, stared into the fire.

Had Phillip titillated women so easily? Would he have lifted her to the heavens as Julian had tonight? Would he have- "Can't you sleep?"

With a startled gasp, Claudia looked over her shoulder. Leaning against the doorframe, Julian stood bare-chested, his trousers pulled up loosely around his hips, unbuttoned. She gripped the edge of the coverlet a little tighter. "Ah, no. Yes." She winced lightly. "I was hungry."

Julian smiled at that, padded across the carpet to her, and kissed the top of her head before sprawling onto a chair next to her. He reached out, laid his hand on her thigh-unconsciously, she thought-and made a face as he looked at the food. "Dear God, I hope you haven't been eating that."

With a shake of her head, she reached for her wine. Julian resumed a slouch against the chair, regarding her beneath hooded eyes as she sipped. "Terribly seductive of you to look like that," he said after a moment. "All wildly mussed and naked beneath that coverlet." Claudia's face flamed.

He abruptly leaned forward and reached for a strand of her hair, twining it lazily in his fingers. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he muttered softly. "I would take my own life before I would willingly hurt you."

Another piece of her heart gone, just like that. She shifted uncomfortably. "It. . . it didn't hurt so terribly much," she lied.

"Come back to bed with me, Claudia. I won't hurt you again, I swear it."

Ah, but you will. She glanced warily at his handsome face, remembered the storm in his expression as he drove deep inside her. "Now?" she asked stupidly.

He considered her for a moment, then let go of her hair and leaned back. "Would you prefer I return to my own rooms?"

No, no, stay and hold me. "Yes. Yes, I. . . I think I would, please," she said, and looked to the fire so he would not see her lie. "I. . . I need to be alone." Julian said nothing, but she could feel him staring at her, trying to penetrate her thoughts. After a long moment, he stood up. As he walked by her, he ran his palm tenderly over her crown. "I am sorry I hurt you," he said again, and leaned down, his mouth in her hair. "It will be all right, Claudia. Everything will be all right." And with that, he disappeared into the adjoining bedroom.

When she heard a door shut a few moments later, she laid her head on her arms and let the torrent of tears come until there was nothing left in her.

Thirteen.

T HREE DAYS LATER , Julian was rather relieved when Arthur Christian called unexpectedly, full of apologies for disturbing him so shortly after the wedding, but in desperate need of his signature on some papers having to do with the iron factory in which the Rogues were partners. Arthur's arrival couldn't have been timelier, as Julian was just beginning to panic. And he was not a man given to panic.

Much less a man who knew what to do if he should panic.

It was that explosive, mind-shattering experience in her bed on their wedding night that had undone him. Really undone him, made a lovesick fool out of him and a miserable one at that, as he was trying very hard to give Claudia a bit of space until she was ready to accept that they were, for better or worse, quite inextricably married.

But unfortunately-for him, anyway-all the good intentions in the world hadn't prevented him from slipping into her bed in the middle of the night last evening, or from pressing his throbbing arousal into her hips, or from caressing her breasts as she lay on her side. Claudia never uttered a word, nothing more than a wistful sigh when he found his way under the bed linens and felt her heat. She had squirmed, moving her hips seductively against his hardness until he could stand no more. In silence, he had slipped into her warmth from behind, driving deep into her until she cried out in pleasure, then releasing himself into her.

Panting, they lay spoon-fashion afterward, his arm draped over her belly. At some point, he had slipped into a deep, comfortable sleep. But something had awakened him, and he had found himself alone in her bed. Again.

She was in the room adjoining the bedchamber, staring at the glowing embers in the hearth, a sheet wrapped tightly around her. There was something about the way she held herself close and tight, something in the purse of her lips that made him believe she was even more vulnerable than he had thought. She looked so forlorn sitting there, so miser-able-it was not the Claudia he knew, and he had sud-denly felt the sick dread of something gone terribly wrong. He had backed away, slipping out of her room just as quietly as he had come. And then he had tossed and turned the rest of the night, madly wondering what she was thinking, what caused her to rise in the middle of the night and stare so sadly into the dying embers. Did she despise him so completely? Did she think of Phillip?

That was the question that drove him mad. He could cope with anything else, but the ghost of Phillip haunted him in a way Julian could not comprehend. It was ridiculous, not to mention bordering on insanity! Yet he could not seem to stop himself. Nothing could shake that awful, uncomfortable feeling that Phillip was watching him- that he knew Julian had let him fall into his grave so that he might have Claudia. It was absurd! Phillip was dead!

Nonetheless, he had closeted himself in his study all day, had tried to work on the medieval manuscript in preparation for a lecture he was due to deliver at Cambridge soon. He had tried to do anything but think of her, or Phillip, or this bizarre circumstance of marriage he found himself in.

Nothing worked.

In the middle of the afternoon, in spite of himself, he had asked Tinley about her. The old man had thought hard about that, declared he was rather certain she had not appeared today. So Julian had very nonchalantly strolled into the kitchen-a room he had visited twice, perhaps three times since he had inherited this house- and had asked a very shocked cook if her ladyship had sent for anything. She had not.

So he had returned to his study, wrestling with the urge to go up and see about her, panicking a little be-cause he feared he just might go up and do Lord knew what when, thankfully, Tinley announced Arthur.

Julian could tell from the way Arthur peered at him that he found his near glee upon seeing him a little odd. Julian adjusted his spectacles and tried to look quite relaxed, but after a moment, Arthur sighed, shook his head, and tossed back the brandy Julian had thrust into his hand with an insistence that he stay a bit. "I knew this would happen."

"What?"

"What!" Arthur snorted. "Look at you, three days after taking your marriage vows, and already chafing to get out."

Out. Julian seized on that-yes, out is where he needed to be. Anywhere but in this room, thinking of her. Was it possible? Could he leave his bride? Yes! Distance was the one thing she seemed to want from him, wasn't it? So let him give her distance, if even for a short time. He looked at the papers Arthur had brought, shuffled them into a neat stack. "Well, now that you've discovered my tragic secret," he said casually, "was there something you had in mind?"

Arthur laughed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked, and nodded politely at Tinley as he walked in, carrying a silver tea service. Julian had not sent for tea-it was almost the supper hour. Tinley was losing what was left of his feeble old mind. "I confess, Kettering, I'm not sure it's safe to cavort about town with a newlywed," Arthur cheerfully continued. "Makes any contemplation I might have had of calling on Madame Farantino's rather difficult."

Julian snorted at that. "I was hardly suggesting a night out on the town, Christian," he said, watching Tinley shuffle to the door and pause, leaning against the brass knob as he took a deep breath. "I was merely suggesting that marital bliss might go down a bit easier with a good port."

"Indeed?" Arthur drawled as Tinley shut the door behind him.

"You wouldn't deny an old chum a bit of escape, would you?"

Grinning, Arthur shook his head again and drained his snifter. Setting it aside, he came to his feet. "As the last free Rogue of Regent Street, I suppose I am honor-bound to help you." He strolled to the door and glanced over his shoulder, waiting for Julian to stuff his spectacles in his coat pocket and join him. "And what of your bride?"

She'll be grateful to be rid of me. Julian shrugged, avoiding Arthur's steady gaze. "She ought to be getting accustomed to it, don't you think?" he answered vaguely.

With a skeptical shake of his head, Arthur walked out the door. "I knew it," he said again.

Claudia stood at the full-length mirror of her dressing room, turning slowly from side to side, critically eyeing the gown she had chosen to wear to supper. It was a dark plum brocade with a low square neck, and without petticoats, it draped very prettily. She worried a moment about her hair-it wasn't dressed, but pulled back to fall freely down her back. From across the room, Brenda made a sound of approval. "Lovely, mum," she said admiringly, and came across the room to hand her a pair of amethyst earrings. Claudia fastened one on her lobe, recalling with a slight flutter in her belly how Julian had taken the pearl earring in his mouth. She fastened the other one, and gave herself one final inspection. What was she doing?

Accepting her marriage, that was what. How many times did she have to tell herself that? She had decided this morning-having awakened still wrapped in the coverlet-that it was the only sensible, practical thing to do. Now if she could only convince herself that accepting this marriage didn't mean that she was giving up any part of herself. No, she was not surrendering anything, so there was really nothing to mope about. . . although she had practically perfected the art in the last several days.

Enough of that. He had said they would find a way to peacefully co-exist. Entirely possible-he was a gentleman. She was a lady. They could certainly live in the same house and be civil. Perhaps they'd even be friendly! Julian was, after all, ruthlessly charming, as she very well knew. What harm was there in an occasional supper together? It didn't mean anything!

And the fact that she had dragged out a new gown for the occasion meant even less. It was part of her trousseau-she was supposed to wear the clothes in her trousseau. It certainly was not to impress him. Yes, and what a pathetic liar she made! Claudia frowned at her reflection. The truth, should she care to admit it-which she did not-was that he had touched her in a way she did not believe she could be touched. Last night had been magical, the pleasure he gave her washing over her in some sort of waking dream. It had been magic and exotic and gentle and rough . . . he had lifted her to the height of sensuality, then had let her drift back to earth in a dream.

It was so earthy, so primitive, that it had scared her. So much that she had slipped from his arms again, certain that what she was feeling, what she was doing with him was a weakness he would eventually exploit. In the morning's light, however, that seemed awfully severe, if not childish. He had shown her nothing but pleasure, taking care to bring her incredible fulfillment before taking any pleasure for himself. There was nothing to suggest he had been insincere, or that he was merely using her. For heaven's sake, she had been married three days now, and had yet to leave her rooms! She was pouting like a spoiled child who had been denied her way. But she was not a spoiled child, she was a grown woman, and it was time she acted like one.

She found Tinley in the salon, polishing the top of a brass torchere, which she thought rather odd given the hour. "Good evening, Tinley!" she said cheerfully.