Colin heard the crash inside the room and threw open the door, not knowing what to expect but ready to do battle with anyone.

He pulled up short when he saw the room was empty. The unmade bed showed signs Rosalyn had been there, but she was nowhere in sight in the room now. He looked to the window. The shutters were still closed and the room was in murky darkness. He walked over to open them.

As he threw back the shutters, his booted sole crunched something beneath. He looked down and saw the shards of the basin pitcher.

That's when he heard the sound of water swishing. Slowly, he turned to the tub, and for a moment, Colin couldn't believe his luck. He saw the movement of an arm cowering behind the high back of the bath.

Her dress draped over the chair beside the tub confirmed his suspicions-and he couldn't resist. God didn't hand him opportunities like this very often.

On catlike feet, he walked around to the front of the tub, moved her dress, and sat down.

Rosalyn sat huddled in the bath, legs longer than he had imagined pulled up to modestly hide her nakedness from his view. Her skin was wet and slippery with soap. The cleavage and soft roundness of full breasts were barely hidden behind the knees and a square of linen she hugged close to her body. He knew from sleeping beside her on the bed that her waist was trim.

It was a provocative situation.

But what robbed him of speech was her hair, which was down.

It's color wasn't drab, as he had supposed. No, her hair was the color of the deepest ale. Dark and full-bodied, with a hint of gold in its midst. And her head was covered with curls. Springy, riotous, joyful curls celebrating their freedom. They tumbled down around her shoulders to a point not far below her breasts. They made her appear younger... and wonderfully wicked.Colin reached out. He couldn't help himself. She leaned away, her gray-green eyes full of distrust... andhe realized it wasn't just her full lips that were sensual and inviting, lips that had enticed him more than once to abandon common sense and steal a kiss, but the whole package of her. His body had knownbetter than his mind what hid beneath Rosalyn's rigidity."You're a bloody beauty."He'd not realized he'd spoken aloud until her eyes flashed indignation and that stubborn chin of hers came up. "I'm not. Now, will you please remove yourself from this room.""I can't," Colin confessed."Why can't you?" she demanded."Because these leather breeches are tight, and if I rise"-which he wanted to add he most certainly had, but he feared she wouldn't appreciate the double meaning of his words-"I will embarrass both of us."

Her anger turned to uneasiness. She was naive, something that did not displease him. "Why would I be embarrassed?" she asked faintly, as if uncertain that she wanted to hear the answer.

"Many reasons," Colin said, not wanting to scare her off too soon. There was a mystery here, a mystery

of why a woman so lush and exciting would deliberately hide her best attributes. Her actions defied

everything he knew about feminine vanity.

He wondered if her nipples were large and brown or petite and pink. Either way, he didn't care. He ached to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands.

Colin leaned forward. "May I wash your back?"

"No."

He put his hand in the water. He couldn't help himself. Making slow figure eights close to her thigh, he

said, "Certainly there is something I can do."

Rosalyn shook her head.

Colin circled his fingers closer until he could place them on the slick skin of her thigh. "You should finish

your bath." And let me wash you all over. He knew such a suggestion would earn another slap.She watched his hand and then pushed it away. "I will finish if you leave me alone."I can't. He swallowed the words and asked instead, "How did the pitcher break?""You aren't going to leave me alone, are you?""Rosalyn, we're married.""Why do you keep reminding me?""It is expected for me to be with you at private moments like this." It is expected for me to pick you up out of that tub all wet and shiny and kiss you dry- Colin came to his feet, tossed her dress on the unmade bed, and walked over to the window. He had to put space between them. The images in his mind were too vivid for her to be safe so close to him. He looked out the window, trying to focus on anything but the woman behind him.

He was failing. He wanted to bury his nose in her hair, to drink in the scent of her with his tongue- "I was going to wash my hair," she explained, interrupting the intensely lurid direction of his thoughts.

"What?" Colin asked, not connecting with her conversation.

"You asked how the pitcher broke?" she prompted. "I was going to wash my hair. I heard you coming and I dropped it."

Colin turned to face her. She sat as he'd left her, arms and legs protectively wrapped against him, the invader. But he understood. She was making an attempt.

"It will be hard to wash your hair now," he said.

She nodded.

"I could help you," he suggested carefully.

Her gaze slid away from his.

"I don't want to frighten you, Rosalyn. I want you to trust me. After all, we are going to be together for a very long time," he said gently.

She lowered her head, considering his words. Her glorious hair provided the curtain that hid her thoughts from him. He waited.

Silence stretched between them. She broke it by saying, "I needed something to help me rinse my hair."

"The bowl of the pitcher is still mostly intact. I could fill it with water."

"From where?"

"The bath."Rosalyn didn't give him a yes or a no. Nor did Colin wait. He retrieved the basin from the wash stand,picked up a mostly intact piece of the pitcher's broken bowl, and sat down. He filled the bowl with waterfrom her bath. She watched every move he made, and he was reminded of the fox Loftus was trying tocapture. Neither Rosalyn nor the fox trusted him... and yet he had their well-being at heart. He didn'tknow why God had placed these two in his path. He only knew that as he'd helped the fox, he had tohelp Rosalyn-and he didn't know from what.

Like so many other matters in his life, he was now trusting his instinct.

The question was, could he control his own base impulses?

"Lean over," he ordered.

She looked at him. He could feel her doubts. This was not the Velvet Hammer, as those in the Valley

referred to her, but a woman far too aware of her own vulnerabilities.

And then she leaned over.

He poured the water over her head. "I'm certain it's quite cool by now."

"It's fine," she murmured and brought her head up. "Could you hand me the soap?"

She kept her knees tucked, but Colin caught a glimpse of her full breast. Her nipples were pink and hard. He handed her the soap and turned in the chair so he was looking in the opposite direction.

He'd never have made it as a monk.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he listened to the sounds of her washing her hair.

A minute later, she said, "I need to rinse."

Dutifully, Colin refilled the pitcher bowl and poured water over her head twice. And one time, he really did make an attempt not to look. The sight of her wreaked too much havoc within him. It was as if he was sixteen again and not in control of his body's reactions. He was randy, anxious, and driven. If he touched her, he knew he would not stop, and again he had the vision of making love to her- Colin set the pitcher bowl aside and stood. He focused on the door and moved purposely in its direction. "I, um, think it's best if I wait for you downstairs." Maybe then he'd be able to think again. All the blood had left his head, leaving him dizzy and far too aroused for her safety.

Her voice stopped him at the door. "You mean what you say, don't you? When you give your word, you aren't lying."

He looked to her. She'd glanced around the back of the tub to watch him. Her wet hair was slicked back, and he wondered why any man hadn't noticed exactly what a true beauty she was.

"I try. Come downstairs for dinner when you are dressed," he mumbled and then practically stumbled over his own feet, attempting to get away from her before he did something really foolish.

Rosalyn waited until Colonel Mandland left, shutting the door firmly behind him, before she sat back in the tub. The water was now almost cold, but she felt hot and something else... something she couldn't quite name. Her stomach was all twisted into knots, and every inch of her skin seemed more aware of him than any other presence on earth. Yes, she could feel anything and everything when she was around him, even the air.

And she knew his reaction was the same.

Those kisses they'd shared had merely been the prelude. She understood this now with an intuition as old as time.

Rosalyn rose from the tub. She wrung out the towel she had used to protect herself and dried herself off with the fresh one.

Colonel Mandland had left, but he hadn't wanted to. The thought made her smile. It also gave her a sense of power. True power.

"Colin." The sound of his name pleased her. He was her husband, and the constant core of tension in her chest, which seemed to be with her when she was around him, eased. In the mirror over the washbasin, she caught her reflection. For the first time when looking in a mirror, she smiled.

"Colin." Her husband. The man who promised to protect her.

Thoughtfully, Rosalyn began dressing. She wasn't ready to trust him completely yet, but she was coming close. He'd not lied to her or misled her once. He had kept his promises-and that was worth a great

deal to her.She started to pin her hair back up... and then, remembering the expression on his face when he'd firstseen her curls free, she changed her mind. These weren't her mother's curls. These were her curls. Shetwisted her hair and pinned it loosely in place. The style softened her face.

She wondered what Colin would think, even as she knew the answer. Nor did wearing the green dress

dampen her spirits.

He waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. She heard him before she saw him. He was whistling tunelessly-or, remembering his singing ability, she realized he might have been on tune. She paused on the landing, where she could see him. He appeared lost in thought, but the moment he heard her tread on the step, he stopped whistling and came to attention. His sharp gaze went directly to her new hairstyle.

He smiled approvingly, and her heart did a funny little flip in her chest.

Colin took her arm and guided her down a narrow hall away from the tap room. She glanced back and saw the parson in there drinking with some friends. He looked well enough along.

"I spoke for a private room for us," Colin said. "They've already set the covers out. Do you like trout?"

"Yes." Although when he was this close to her, she wasn't hungry at all.The inn's private room overlooked a pretty little stream. The sun was setting, and the last light of the daygave the world a warm, golden glow. Covered dishes were already on a small table set for two, and thefood smelled delicious. Her appetite returned.

Colin pulled the chair out for her, saying to the serving girl, "We'll serve ourselves."The girl lit the candles, curtseyed, and left the room, closing the door behind her. They were alone."Do you prefer wine or cider?" Colin asked."Wine, if it is good.""We'll find out," he said, showing her the bottle. "Looks French, but one never knows. I've had vinegar that was bottled as French wine."

Rosalyn didn't know what to say. He was the most handsome, worldly man of her acquaintance and theonly one with the ability to make her tongue-tied.Fortunately, Colin didn't seem to expect conversation from her. He poured their glasses and offered one to her. "To our marriage."

"May we both get what we want," she whispered.

His eyebrows rose. "What does that mean?" he asked quietly.

Rosalyn shifted uncomfortably. "You want the Commons seat."

He leaned forward, his glass still in the air, waiting to touch the brim of hers. "You keep reminding me of

that. But what of you, Rosalyn? What do you want?"

His question caught her off guard. What did she want?

She'd entered into the marriage for Covey... or had she? Mayhap she'd always known-from themoment he'd first proposed their arrangement in Lord Loftus's sitting room-that she would end up hereone way or the other.

"You've asked a difficult question," she said.