Matt was furious with Kate.

How dare she blacken his wedding day with her accusations. She always thought she knew better, that she had not only a right, but an obligation to voice her opinion. Thank God, his other sisters were more discreet.

However, now that she’d pricked his conscience, he wanted to prove her wrong.

He had no doubt that she would report to his other sisters that poor Matt had lost his way. That he wasn’t the man he should be.

Well, he was damn tired of families all the way around.

It was true he was marrying Willa to save the impossible situation he had inherited. No, he wasn’t completely happy with the solution. He’d been resigned to being a lowly tutor. However, fate had conspired otherwise and given him the responsibility to preserve what his ancestors had built. He owed his descendants his very best.

Yes, he would have preferred to have had the luxury of marrying for love. Damn it all, he’d been so inspired by his parents’ example, he’d written a book of poetry about it. A bad book, but a book all the same. He believed in love . . . or thought he did.

He had lost his way in his affair with Letty. Looking back, he realized it had been doomed to fail from the beginning. Bainhurst was so possessive, he would never have divorced Letty for criminal conversation. They would have had to run away to the Continent, and Matt now realized he would have eventually come to his senses and regretted sacrificing everything meaningful in his life for her.

In that respect, Letty had been far wiser than he.

Marrying Willa was the right thing to do, no matter what Kate said. The Reverly money allowed him to take care of his sisters, his grandmother, and the numerous cottagers and tenants that depended on his sensible management of Mayfield for their livelihood.

Not only all of that, he actually liked Willa. He didn’t mind changing his last name to Reverly-Addison. Granted, Kate would have a field day if she knew how little time he had spent with Willa before the wedding.

Or that Willa hadn’t sparked his interest until she’d been willing to cut him loose.

However, now the deed was done. And he’d be lying if he claimed it didn’t feel good to have Willa’s dowry. Overnight, she’d resolved the majority of his problems. He owed her his allegiance and, to his mind, so did Kate.

So he was determined to give Willa all the deference that was her due as he moved toward the front door with his new wife on his arm.

Numerous suggestions of how they were to spend their night were called out. A few were crass enough to make comment about the difference in their height. Throughout the afternoon, Matt had overheard people speculating. He’d quickly steered Willa away from that nonsense.

In truth, he didn’t know if she was sensitive about her height or understood how men viewed women as playthings. A group of men had mentioned that he was fortunate to have such a doll-like wife, the lust in their voices enough to make Matt contemplate throwing them out the door.

Soren had calmed him down. “It’s the brandy,” he’d said. “People are damn fools.”

Matt could agree to that.

The worst, though, had happened after Matt had finished with Kate. He had searched for Minerva to let her know he was planning on leaving and caught her holding court with her friends on whether a woman as petite as Willa could give birth to a child sired by a man as big as he was.

“Big babies have difficulties coming out of small wombs,” one of the dowager’s friends had opined. “I had a maid die in childbirth for that very reason. Both she and the baby dead. Couldn’t get it out of her.”

Talk of wombs was not a deterrent to a man with sisters as vocal as the ones Matt had. The idea that his children would die made his brain spin.

Matt’s first reaction was to denounce their speculation as nonsense. But what if it wasn’t?

One of the few bits he’d learned about animal husbandry over his months at Mayfield was that breeders took great care in matching their males and females. However, those rules were about sheep, horses, and dogs.

Not people.

In fact, a good number of the women at the breakfast were as petite as Willa. Of course, none of their husbands were Matt’s size.

He’d looked around for Alice, the scientific one, and found her deep in conversation with Kate. No, he wasn’t going there.

Instead, he hunted for his wife. She’d been sitting on a chair in what seemed to be the one quiet corner of the house. She’d acted more than ready to leave.

Now they said their last good-byes as if embarking on a great trip and not just driving a few blocks to his house to consummate their union. Kate and Alice offered their well wishes; Kate with a decided lack of sincerity. He noticed that Willa’s earlier warmth toward his outspoken sister had given away to a reserve. She saved her smile for Alice.

Minerva waved them on and returned to her friends. No one knew where Leland Reverly was, and his wife barely looked up from the card game she had started.

There were true well-wishers such as George and Cassandra and Soren. Matt chose to focus on them.

However, he was grateful once the coach door had closed.

He looked to Willa. “I’m glad that is over.”

She studied some point out the window and nodded. The coach rolled forward. He found himself watching her, fascinated by her skin. The late afternoon sun highlighted its clarity.

His wife. He was not displeased. She still wore the virginal lace and net veil.

He removed his glove and reached out to run the backs of his fingers against her cheek.

Willa jumped at the contact. She looked to his hand and then at him. For once, he could read her thoughts in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said.

“I was startled. That is all.” Her lashes lowered as she moved her study to her hands in her lap. “I’m tired. The day has been exhausting.”

Matt could agree, except he was far from tired. All his senses were tuned to her.

Willa was a study in contrasts. She could be bold and then remarkably shy, submissive even. That was interesting because his experience had been that women, like men, were either one way or the other. They either forged ahead or held back. Willa could be a chameleon, unless one looked deeper.

He shifted in his seat, and again she jumped slightly—only this time, he sensed a hint of what she was thinking: his lady was angry.

Furious even.

That was why he couldn’t decipher the expression in her eyes because what man would expect an angry wife on his wedding day? Of all of life’s days, this should be the one when the female was happiest.

“You are upset?” he said.

“Just tired,” she answered.

He didn’t believe her. “Have I done something to offend you?” he asked.

Willa looked at him wildly as if he’d spouted gibberish . . . or read her mind. “Of course not.”

She was lying .

He let silence spool between them.

“Why would you even think such a thing?” she threw out. A shiver of distaste went through her as if the fault was his.

“Well,” Matt said, “your whole attitude tells me you would rather be anywhere but right here.”

She scrunched her nose. She’d never done that around him before. He liked it because he sensed it was something she tried not to do, and yet, it was charming. A personal quirk. She then brushed at an imaginary piece of lint on her skirt before saying, “We aren’t a love match.”

“True . . .” He would not deny it. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t make love .” He let his voice warm the last words and watched her reaction.

Willa fidgeted with her skirt, right where the imaginary lint had been. She rubbed her thumb against it as if there was a stain only she could see.

She was nervous . An idea struck like lightning. God, he was a fool. He’d thought she was angry. He’d actually been ready to take offense, but now he realized, she was shy. Yes, that was it. Maidens were shy . . . because they didn’t know what to expect.

Matt had never slept with a virgin. He knew what the ton whispered about his carnal adventures, but a good deal of that had to do with Letty. In truth, he’d actually not had many sexual partners. Meaningless relationships had never been attractive to him.

However, Willa was very attractive, and she always had been. From their first introduction, he’d admired her English beauty and the way she held herself. He would never have agreed to marry her if he hadn’t been somewhat drawn to her.

He leaned in, reaching for her hand rubbing the material and covered it with his own. His action brought his eyes level with hers. “I’m pleased with my choice of wife,” he said, thinking that was important to say. “I won’t hurt you, Willa. I promised we would be good together.”

The corners of her mouth tightened.

He held his breath, waiting for her response and uncertain if he’d made the situation better or worse.

And then she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

The startling kiss was innocent, untried—and set a fire alight inside him.

Matt had not anticipated such a response to her artless inexperience. All admonishments to himself about maidens aside, he would have taken that kiss and more, if the coach had not come to a halt.

Willa broke the chaste kiss, her color high, a second before Marshall, the Camberly butler, opened the coach door himself. “Your Grace,” he said to Willa with great flourish, “welcome .”

“Thank you,” she managed, and offered Marshall her hand to help her out of the coach. Matt followed.

The servants were in a line by the front door. Willa hung back as if intimidated, but with a slight press of the fingers, Matt teased her forward. She went by every servant acknowledging their bows and curtseys of welcome. Fortunately, Matt didn’t have even a third of the servants her father’s household boasted or else they would be at it all day.

And this was not how he wanted to spend his time. He was ready to open a school for kisses and he had only one pupil in his mind: his sweetly innocent wife.

Inside, Mrs. Snow, the housekeeper, waited by the stairs to be introduced to the new duchess. “If you have any questions, Your Grace, I am completely at your service.”

“That is nice—” Willa started, but Matt had waited long enough.

“Very nice,” he agreed brusquely, a beat before sweeping Willa up in his arms, just as he had in front of the church. His arms full of wife, Matt looked to Marshall and Mrs. Snow. “Don’t disturb us.”

His pronouncement was met with good-humored laughter as he carried Willa up the stairs to his room.

Another servant waited for them there, Willa’s maid. It had been arranged that while the wedding breakfast was taking place, Willa’s clothing and personal effects would be moved to his house.

Her maid made a deep curtsey as they came upon her. “Annie,” Willa said, “did the move go well?”

“Oh, yes, Your Grace, very well.”

“Annie,” Matt said, testing the name. “Your services will not be needed for the night.” A grin of delight spread across her Irish face, and Matt decided he liked this new addition to his household. “Have a good evening,” he tossed over his shoulder as he carried Willa into his bedroom. He kicked the door shut and conveyed her to his massive bed with the intention of pursuing that kiss they had started.

He was hard, he was ready . . . he was excited. If she’d been more experienced, Matt would already have her on her back. Instead, he remembered she’d been gently reared. Protected and pampered. Guarded.

And he’d taken a marriage vow to cherish her, one he was determined to obey if it killed him.

He removed his jacket.

The time had come.

The moment everyone had gossiped about. Willa was going to let Camberly have her because he was her husband. Giving in to him was her duty. She wasn’t truly his duchess unless they did the deed.

She experienced a pang of regret that she’d overheard his words to his sister about not loving her. Willa was practical. In spite of the marriage vows, she wouldn’t even have thought of love if it hadn’t been for Kate’s words.

Now, it seemed all she could think about. Love .

Having a husband who loved her . Just as Soren loved Cassandra, and Leonie’s husband, Rochdale, all but worshipped her.

And yet, everyone envied Willa. Matt was a prize. She had become a duchess. The point game had gone to her.

So why did she feel sad?

It might have to do with the kiss in the coach. Her first kiss. She hadn’t known what she was about, but he had apparently liked it because he hadn’t stopped touching her since she’d kissed him. For most of the afternoon, when she had been with him, his hand had been at her arm or her waist, guiding her and moving her along until he’d swept her up and carried to his bed.

Willa sat up on the mattress. His bedroom furnishings were dark brown against ivory walls. The bed itself had been made for a giant. It had massive headboard that was almost black with age. The bedclothes were a dull gold. Someone, most likely Annie or Matt’s valet, had turned down the covers.

Rather bravely, she said, “What do you want me to do?”

He’d tossed his jacket onto a nearby chair and was tugging on the knot in his neck cloth when her question gave him pause. An uncertain look came into his eye, as if he, too, was feeling his way. And then he answered, “Let me take down your hair.”

The request was unexpected—and she couldn’t imagine anything she would more dearly love. The weight of it had added to her building anxieties. “Yes, please.”

He smiled and pulled his neck cloth free to join his jacket before offering his hand. “Well then, stand.” She thought he meant the floor until he helped her balance on the mattress. This way, she was taller than he was. He wasn’t so intimidating this way. Was that his intent?

He began removing the pearl-tipped pins.

She held out her hand to receive them just as she did with Annie. The familiar arrangement helped her relax. “There are plain pins in there as well.”

“I will find them.” His touch was gentle, his expression intent. He reminded her of a sculptor she’d once observed working on his art. The tension between Willa’s shoulders and neck began to unwind. “I’ve wanted to see your hair down since the moment we first met,” he said.

“I have too much of it.”

He smiled. “We shall see.”

Her gaze took in the room. This was obviously his domain. Just as she noticed when she’d visited Mayfield several months ago, there were signs of neglect and wear. A huge wardrobe took up a good portion of one wall. There was a washstand, a desk, chairs—all the usual items in a bedroom, including a privacy screen in one corner.

However, Willa’s personal effects were here. She was surprised. She had assumed she would have her own room. In fact, beyond his shaving gear, there seemed to be nothing else of Matt’s in this room. What brushes and small boxes and bottles were on the washstand belonged to her.

He had collected all the pearl pins and was now searching for the plain ones.

“I was thinking this was your room,” she said, “but my things are here.”

“This is our room.”

She looked down at him. “We’ll share the same room?” She had never heard of such a thing. Her parents had separate suites of rooms.

“You are my wife, Willa. You sleep by my side.”

“Forever?”

“As long as our natural lives.” He pulled the last pin from her hair. It was as if that last pin held it all in place. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders, flowing almost to her waist.

It was pure pleasure to have the weight of it off her neck. As she did every night when she took her hair down, she rotated her shoulders—and then stopped. Her breasts were at his eye level and they had his attention.

A warmth roiled deep in her lower belly and a curiosity in her mind.

His eyes had darkened with interest. He rested his hand on her waist. He raised his gaze to her. It was almost a sin for a man to have such dark lashes or such sparkling blue eyes.

“I want you, Willa. Do you understand exactly what that means?”

In this moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

“I’m told to do what you tell me.” Her mother’s instruction didn’t seem daunting at all right now. “And I will, although I don’t know how good I will be at counting backward from a hundred.”

If she had popped him in the nose, he couldn’t appear more startled. “Count backward?”

Willa nodded, sinking down on the bed. She removed her kid slippers. It had bothered her to stand on the coverlet in them. “Mother suggested it. She said that way it will be all over before I know it.”

Matt burst out laughing. He sat on the bed beside her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Count backward?”

Willa wasn’t certain what was so funny. Should she not have told him? She nodded warily.

He caught her mood. “Please, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just . . .” He paused as if looking for a word and found it. “Charmed. I’m charmed to hear you say that. Your honesty, Willa, is a gift.” He leaned back, resting on one arm, and gently pulled her with him. “You were told to count to a hundred?”

“Backward,” Willa added. She caught her hair and pulled it over one shoulder so it wasn’t beneath her.

His gaze met hers. He sobered. “My hope is that you are enjoying yourself so much, you can’t remember how to count.”

Her mother had not said anything about enjoyment. However, Cassandra had. “Is that why everyone claims you are a good lover?” An hour earlier she wouldn’t have dared to say such a thing. However, being with him—like this—seemed completely right. Why, they both were still dressed.

“Now the pressure is on,” he said in mock dismay followed by a self-deprecating smile. “That ‘lover’ gossip is stuff and nonsense. They prattle on like that because they have nothing else to talk about. The only opinion I am interested in is yours and, together, we’ll find what please us both.”

That was a very nice promise. Especially the word “together.”

He stroked her hair, watching it flow through his fingers. “So lovely,” he murmured before lifting his gaze to meet hers. “Willa, kiss me the way you did in the coach.”

How could she refuse such a simple request?

Willa leaned toward him. Their lips met.

And she was kissing him.

It was a perfect kiss, or so she thought—until his lips parted and she felt his tongue trace the closed line of hers.

That tickled. Her startled lips parted and then he taught her something about kissing. Pressed lips had nothing over being able to drink the breath of her partner.

He didn’t force. He waited until she moved toward him. The kiss took on a new life. Their mouths fit in a way she’d never imagined. With a soft sigh, Willa gave herself over to him because he knew more than she did, and she was liking the lesson. He drew her down to the bed, his arms gathering her close.

As if from a distance, she heard him slip off his shoes and let them drop to the hardwood floor. He eased her on her back so the kiss could deepen. She liked what he was doing with his tongue. She tried to copy his movements, catching his tongue and lightly stroking it with her own. He reacted by making their kiss fiercer, and Willa felt everything inside her rise toward him.

She tingled .

Every inch of her.

Just as Annie predicted.

It was Matt who broke it off. He was practically on top of her, but the weight of his body didn’t bother her. In fact, like his kiss, it felt good.

He smiled down at her. His breathing had gotten heavy and she was conscious of their legs tangled together, their feet dangling off the edge of the bed. “I want to make love to you, Willa.”

Love. There was that word again.

“But I will not do anything you don’t like,” he said.

She reached back and lifted her hair so that she wasn’t lying on it. “I know you won’t. I also believe you are right.”

“About what?”

“The counting. I’m not going to bother because I don’t want to be distracted. Not right now.”

Camberly was handsome, that was true. But when he laughed, he was impossible to resist.

Before she knew what he was about, Matt rolled to his back, bringing her with him. She found herself astride his body, her bum on his abdomen. His hands pushed her skirts up to her thighs. She liked the feeling of him beneath her. He pulled the ribbons on her stockings, loosening them.

“The dress is beautiful on you, Willa. But I’d like to see you without it.”

She’d known that husbands and wives were naked in bed together. However, she’d actually imagined that everything happened under covers and in the cloak of night.

Instead, the late day’s sun came in through the room’s many windows. She could hear the sounds in the house and on the street. No one knew what was happening in here save she and Matt . . . her husband.

Willa shook her hair back and dragged it forward out of her way. She reached behind her for the dress’s lacing. His hands ran up and down her thighs. They were warm and knowledgeable. He began to unroll her stocking down her legs.

Where he touched, she grew heated.

She gathered her skirts, lifted them, and pulled her dress over her head. Of course, her hair caught in the material. Willa struggled until Matt rose to sit, moving her into his lap. He easily freed her.

Her thighs now cradled his hips. His lips pressed a kiss on her neck.

Willa didn’t know what he did with the dress. She didn’t care because he’d begun nibbling her skin, working his way up to her ear. She placed her hands on her shoulders. Her breasts were full and tight against her lawn chemise. She wore it and a thin petticoat tied at her waist and nothing more.

All the blood in her body, all the sensation, was flowing to a few key spots, including the juncture where she was snug against him.

She knew he was hard. No one could have missed that. Her body took his measure. Everyone’s prediction was correct: he was not small.

But she was not afraid. Willa might not be certain of the mechanics, however she had a strong idea about what he was going to do—and she had never wanted something more in her life.

Her body began moving with an accord of its own as if anxious to be closer to him. She slid along his breeches, so sensitive she could feel every button and fold of clothing.

Matt bit her ear. The nip was a pleasure. She pressed herself down harder on him. He groaned, meeting her eye.

“You are perfect,” he whispered. “The things you are doing to me.”

He sounded as if she had power, as if she had control. “I think you are perfect, too.”

His smile turned seductive. His hand hooked under the strap of her chemise. Her nipples were like hard buds. Usually she was embarrassed when they tightened, but not now. She let her shoulder slip out of the strap. He pulled it down, revealing her breast. He weighed it, stroked it, and then put his hot mouth against her, and Willa was undone.

Her hand pulled on the tapes of her petticoat, loosening it. She wanted him to touch all of her. Every inch of her body seemed to weep for his hand upon her.

Matt undressed her until she was sitting on his lap naked. He kissed her in places she’d not thought to be kissed. His hands ran over the indent of her waist and the curve of her hips.

She wanted him to never stop. But he did. He rested his palm against her belly, his fingers lowering to the most intimate part of her.

He touched her.

Willa gave a small cry at the exquisite, keen sensation.

He drew back and she followed him. “Is this it, Matt? Is this making love?” She felt as if drugged, as if only he knew what she needed.

“I didn’t hurt you?”

“Lord, no.”

“Shall I go on?”

He was still dressed, and yet, she did not mind. She rather liked it. She felt no shame even as she nuzzled his neck and whispered, “Please.”

Matt touched her again, this time circling the tight nub. She leaned into him, savoring the smell of him, his strength, and the magic of his fingers. Her body was prepared for him. She opened herself wider, letting him have all he wanted, and he took full advantage by slipping two fingers inside her.

Willa paused. She wasn’t certain. His lips brushed her ear. “It is all right.” She believed him, and relaxed.

The strangeness of it left her. Her body eased around him. He began teasing her again, rubbing his thumb against that sensitive flesh while leaving his fingers right where they were. “Is that all right, Willa?” he’d asked in between kissing her forehead, her nose, her cheek, and then her mouth.

Oh, yes, it was.

Heat built inside her. She caught her breath. Her hands slid around his shoulders and then she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He grounded her even as he drove her in a direction she didn’t quite comprehend—until she was there .

Her body understood. There was a tightening and then the most remarkable sense of well-being rippled through her in waves. It was as if she’d been holding herself as tight as a bowstring, only to discover the true pleasure was in letting go. She marveled at how agreeably pleasing it was.

Willa rested her head on his shoulder, savoring the enjoyment.

Matt captured her face, cupping it with both of his hands and turning her up to him. “You are amazing,” he whispered. “Incredible.”

He’d liked it as well .

Her hand ran over his shirt. “No, you are amazing.” She sounded tipsy. She also realized why his smile was so devilish. He had a dimple. It was only on one side of his mouth and didn’t appear often, but when it did, she had no defense against it.

Especially when he followed it with a kiss that curled her toes.

“I told you we’d be good together,” he said. He moved her from his lap and pulled back the bedclothes. “Here, love.”

She moved her unwieldy hair again to one side and slid under the sheets as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. She felt peaceful and drowsy. It had been a full day. A glass of wine would have been nice.

However, her senses perked up as Matt unbuttoned and took off the vest. He placed it on a chair close to the bed. He tugged his shirt over his head.

Willa couldn’t help but stare. He’d seen all of her and she was most anxious to see all of him. Her observation that he had never needed padding in his jackets was quickly confirmed. His chest was hard lean lines. He wasn’t a beefy man but sleek and smooth.

“You are staring,” Matt said.

“Of course,” she answered, and blushed at her own audacity.

“It is all right, Willa. Admire me all you will.” With those words, he began unbuttoning his breeches.

Willa should look away.

She didn’t.

Of course, she’d seen men’s parts when she’d visited museums with Cassandra—but this was different. In marble or oil, the men’s parts in art appeared to look like oysters without the shell. Their bits hadn’t been appealing to her at all. She’d once said as much to Leonie and Cassandra and they had agreed.

Matt didn’t look anything like an oyster. Rodney, Kate had said. His did look like a rod -ney. It was a staff with a knobbed head. A large one.

He folded his breeches and put them on the chair with his other clothes before climbing into the bed with her. He pulled the sheet over them.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Willa wondered if she looked pale. She nodded. Then she had to ask, “Are they all that big?”

Matt knew exactly what she was asking about. “Yes,” he answered. “Mine is actually quite normal.”

However, it was bigger than two fingers. It was also very unattractive. Not as ugly as oysters, but not visually appealing, either.

“They are all like that?”

“Yes, Willa.” He propped his head on one hand and said, “Are you all right?”

“You keep asking me that.”

“I don’t want you to feel as if I will overrun your wishes. Or that I am pushing you.”

Understanding dawned on her. “We haven’t coupled yet.”

“No, we haven’t. We were just enjoying each other.”

She considered a moment. “Do I need to start counting now?”

He laughed and pulled her close to him. “I prefer you to kiss me instead.”

That she could do.

It did not take many kisses before a deep yearning started building inside her again. It was as if he’d discovered what she liked best and this time, he’d set right to it.

She, too, had explored and learned a few things. Matt responded every time she kissed his ear. He adored her breasts and they felt very much the same way toward him in return.

And what she truly liked was his weight upon her.

His kisses became more purposeful. She began to realize how much he’d held himself back earlier. Now, it was as if he was being driven. As if she had unharnessed a force within him. His hands cupped her buttocks and curved her to him. The hair of his legs tickled her thighs as she cradled him. She pressed her breasts against his hard chest, her abdomen alongside his. In bed, their difference in height did not matter and she was soon willing to do whatever he wanted—

The tip of him pushed against her intimately. He stroked her with that very hard staff, mimicking the earlier strokes of his fingers. She flinched at the touch. He gentled her with soft words in her ear.

“Precious,” he whispered. “So precious.”

He meant her. She was what was “precious” to him.

Her legs opened to him. He felt good as he slid himself up and back. Very good.

Matt raised his weight up. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with concern, or was it lust? “This may hurt.”

She had no fear. There had been some discomfort the last time, but pleasure had quickly replaced pain.

“I’ll do this quick. You are so ready, but, Willa, I don’t know if I can hold back once I start. Do you understand?”

She cupped his face in her hands. Looking into his eyes, she promised, “I will be fine.”

His lips found hers. He kissed her, deep and hard. She curved toward him. She knew he would never hurt her.

The tip of the shaft was right where his fingers had been.

And then he thrust forward, and it was as if she was being rendered in two. A sheering pain cut through her.