A happy smile teased across her lips. "You're right. It was fantastic. Stupendous, actually."

"Magnificent, especially there at the last."

She laughed and rolled over to lean against his chest. "Yes, that last was quite delicious. You nearly made me faint."

His large palm came down across her bare buttocks in a playful swat. "Perhaps next time, I shall."

If he gave as splendid a performance as the one just past, she decided, he had an awfully good chance of achieving his aim. She shivered with anticipation.

"I'm glad we decided to spend our honeymoon here in Scotland." She gazed at the gleaming gold band and the accompanying emerald that graced her ring finger, a fresh thrill running through her to know she and Kit were actually married.

"Hmm, I thought you'd love this house. It's quiet and secluded, with only a pair of servants to cook and clean. If we want, we don't have to leave this room except for food."

"Well, we didn't leave yesterday. I don't think I've ever eaten dinner in bed before."

"But you liked it, I could tell. Most particularly dessert."

Her cheeks heated, recalling the dollops of beaten cream he'd coaxed her to let him eat off her naked breasts and belly and thighs. She had to admit, she'd ended up liking it very much. Very much indeed.

He gave her a devilish grin. "Besides, we needed to make up for lost time."

"Are you still lamenting our decision to wait until our wedding night to make love again?"

"Your decision. I would have been perfectly happy to sneak down the hall to your bedroom every night. I've never taken so many cold baths in my life as I did over the past three months."

"It was hard for me too, but I thought it would be better if our first child was actually conceived after we took our vows. Besides, I had that specially designed wedding gown to consider. What if it had no longer fit?"

"It would have fit, a couple months gone or not. But this will save us the trouble of making up claims of an early birth." He brushed a curl off her forehead. "And though it pains me to confess, the results were well worth the wait, both in bed and out. You were beautiful. The most perfect bride I have ever seen."

"The power of our love made me that way. In those moments when I stood next to you at the altar, I felt truly beautiful."

He cupped his hands against her cheeks and urged her to meet his gaze. "Because you are truly beautiful. I don't know how I could ever have thought you anything else, since every time I see you, you quite simply take my breath."

"Oh, Kit."

His lips met hers-slow and dreamy. She kissed him back, melting like steamed chocolate into his embrace. Eyes closed, she trailed her hand along the smooth skin and firm muscles of his body, pausing in her exploration when she encountered a firmness of another sort. "I see you've recovered your strength."

He chuckled. "How could I not with that wandering hand of yours. But don't stop now. Please, keep wandering."

She laughed and did exactly as she was instructed.

When they surfaced a long, long while later, Eliza cuddled in repletion against him, her head pillowed comfortably on the breadth of his naked shoulder. Despite a slight nip in the early autumn air, they'd kicked all the covers to the foot of the bed.

One thing she knew for sure, she would never be cold at night again. The man was like a furnace.

"Eliza?" He played his fingers over her arm.

"Hmm?"

"There's something about which I've been meaning to talk to you. Remember your suggestions?"

"What suggestions?"

"About my future, our future now. I've been thinking about what you said. Actually I've done a bit more than think, I've been talking to a few people."

Her interest piqued, she opened her eyes. "Really? Which people?"

"A couple of lords and a government minister attached to the foreign service. I understand there's an interesting assignment available, a liaison of sorts. If I put in the word, the position could be mine."

She sat up. "Really? What would you be doing?"

"Assisting with the postwar rebuilding efforts, coordinating between the British and the French."

"Oh, it sounds exciting, if you think you'd like it."

"I think I would, at least enough to give it a try. But it means we would have to move to France, perhaps for several years. I know it's asking a lot of you, giving up your home and your friends. I know how close you and Violet are."

Catching her lip between her teeth, she gave the matter a moment of thought. But only a moment. "Of course we shall go." Leaning down, she kissed him. "Without question, I shall miss Violet and Adrian and the children, but I want to do what's best for us. Anyway, France isn't so far, they can come visit."

Kit smiled, eyes lighting at the idea. "You're right. With the war done, it's not such a great journey these days. They can be across the Channel in a thrice."

"And surely you will get an occasional leave, so we can come home to England."

"Yes, I am sure I shall. A couple months a year, I believe."

"If you want the assignment, then all you need do is say yes."

"All right, then, yes! I shall write to Lord Exmeyer to accept directly when we return home."

They cheered each other with an exuberant kiss.

"Paris," she mused. "I've never been to Paris. Oh, just think of all the books. Why, there are texts there that have been inaccessible to the rest of the world since before the Revolution. It's simply thrilling. Violet will be quite jealous."

"Jealous, is it?" he teased. "I see I shall have to work hard to get you with child."

"I can still study and have babies, you know." She paused. "Unless you dislike the notion of having a scholarly wife."

With a gentle hand, he tumbled her across him. "Of course I do not dislike the idea, not since scholarly pursuits make you happy. Just be available for the occasional dinner party."

Delight spread through her like rays of morning sun. "I shall accompany you to all the dinner parties of your choosing." She kissed him. "You are my heart."

He kissed her back. "And you are my soul. Which means, I guess, that neither of us can do without the other."

"Quite right."

He claimed her mouth again, to her immense enjoyment.

"Speaking of books," he said at length. "I brought one along I thought we might enjoy."

"Oh, what is that?"

Climbing out of bed, he strolled across the room and reached inside a travel valise. Her eyes widened when she saw what he held, recognizing the familiar green binding. He waggled the volume between his fingers. "I suppose you might call it an old friend. In a way, this helped bring us together."

Albanino's Postures.

"But I put that back in the drawing room escritoire," she sputtered.

"Not this copy. I went to Jeannette's bookseller and had him locate one just for us. The other volume must still be where you left it, unless Violet decided to retrieve it for her and Adrian's use, after all."

"Mercy me." A rush of color stained her cheeks.

He winked and handed her the book. "Consider this a little wedding present. Not that we actually need the help, but I thought it might be fun."

"Fun, hmm?" Unable to resist, she opened the book and began to leaf through. She paused at a particularly contorted position. "Do you really think that looks fun?"

He peered over her shoulder. "It might, if I were an acrobat. Pick another, then."

She thumbed through the pages, then thumbed back. "Well, I have to admit number nine looks intriguing."

He studied the drawing and grinned. "Is that your choice?"

"It is." She nodded, abruptly shy.

Setting the book onto the nightstand, he opened his arms. "Then come get me, my love."

On a laugh, she dived toward him, and together they gave number nine a very fine try.

Also by Tracy Anne Warren.

The Husband Trap.

The Wife Trap.

"Eliza."

"Yes?"

"One last thing," Kit said. "If your curiosity persists and you find yourself tempted to experiment further in the realm of the physical, don't go to any of your other suitors. I am still your mentor." Reaching out, he stroked the edge of a knuckle over the delicate curve of her cheek. "If you wish to have more lessons in love, you need only say. I shall teach you whatever it is you care to learn."

With a last smile, he strode toward the door, leaving Eliza stock-still in the center of the room.

The Wedding Trap is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An Ivy Books Mass Market Original.

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