Robert lay on his back beside his wife, wide awake and burning.

He’d spent long, lonely years hungering for just this. The comforts of home. The warmth of family. Above all, Morwenna, whose presence had fed his soul from the first time he saw her.

But reality turned out to be a horribly distorted version of the visions that had sustained him.

Seeing his family again had been wonderful, of course it was. But their open affection and joy had made his skin crawl. He wasn’t used to dealing with crowds of people yet, despite eight weeks on the whaler that had rescued him. Those rough Norwegian sailors had largely left him alone, once they met his immediate physical needs for food and clothing, and once they’d done their best to patch up his wounds. The language barrier and also the code of hard men who faced danger every day of their lives had preserved Robert’s privacy.

Entering that packed room downstairs had tied his gut in knots.

Now he stretched stiff—in all senses of the word—and wakeful on a soft feather mattress in the finest linen sheets. And his body, accustomed to a hard wooden pallet and freezing cold and damp, couldn’t adjust to the change. He was dead tired, so exhausted every muscle ached, yet he couldn’t sleep.

Nor could he stop stewing about the woman curled into a ball on the edge of the mattress, as though even in sleep, she could hardly bear his nearness.

His wife, who had told him there were things he needed to know. Did those “things” include a love affair with the man she’d planned to marry?

Dear God, perhaps she’d taken more than one lover. After all, he’d been gone a long time, and nobody knew better than Robert what a passionate creature Morwenna was.

Savage masculine rage settled in his gut, even as he knew he was unfair. While his animal self might want the woman he loved to swear a vow of eternal chastity in her widowhood, the civilized man who still existed—just!—knew he was acting like a bear.

That civilized man told him he should be glad she’d gone on to find new happiness.

That civilized man could go to hell.

Whatever evil it spoke of him, he couldn’t get over believing Morwenna was his forever. On this side of heaven or the next. And be damned if he’d tolerate her making sheep’s eyes at another man.

He wanted her like the devil. That was no surprise. He’d wanted her naked and in his bed since the first time he saw her at that woefully provincial assembly in Truro.

But he’d imagined on his homecoming, gratitude and sentiment would outweigh desire. In his captivity, he hadn’t known a woman’s touch, and for most of that time, he’d borne his celibacy with reasonable patience.

That wasn’t the case right now. Celibacy in his wife’s presence itched like the devil. Morwenna was lucky he hadn’t pushed her down in front of that glittering crowd downstairs and claimed his rights. Just after he stuck a knife into that much admired gentleman, Lord Garson, so the bastard never again poached on Robert’s dominion.

Lying beside her now, he barely contained his urge to tup her.

Which made him feel like a barbarian.

He hadn’t missed the fear in her eyes when she’d looked at him. Fear and guilt. She’d trembled when he’d touched her, and almost collapsed with terror when he’d helped her with her dress. By the dickens, that had been a test of his willpower.

Perhaps she was right to be afraid. He didn’t trust himself to touch her.

Robert closed his eyes, praying for oblivion. He struggled not to brood upon whose bed Morwenna had shared while her husband starved in a rancid pit.

Tonight life had granted him everything he’d wished for during his exile. Years when he’d been convinced he’d never see England or the people he loved again. He had it all back, yet life made it impossible for him to enjoy any of it.

Life had a bloody sick sense of humor.

Morwenna moaned in her sleep, disturbing Robert’s restless doze. The soft murmur, so close to the sounds she made when he took her—their separation hadn’t dulled that memory—had his cock standing to attention.

As she shifted, he clenched his hands at his sides and fought the urge to grab her.

She moved again, with another of those damned husky sighs. He closed his eyes in agony. He should have taken Caro’s offer to sleep in the blue room.

But he’d hated the thought of being shut away from Morwenna, when at last he’d found her. And there had also been the childish need to stake his territory. By then, Garson had gone, but Robert couldn’t help thumbing his nose at his rival.

See? She’s sleeping with me tonight, you thieving scoundrel.

I’m the king of the castle.

He didn’t feel like the king of the castle. He felt lonely and unloved and bereft, like a dog left to starve outside an inn full of carousing travelers. Bliss hovered so close, he could smell it. Yet it remained denied.

Actually he really could smell bliss. Morwenna had straightened out, and her wriggling released the humid scent of her skin. Floral soap with a salty hint of warm woman.

Although he knew it would extend his torture, he sucked in a lung full of Morwenna-tinged air. Through the filth and stink of the pirates’ camp, he’d struggled to recall that particular perfume. But he’d never been able to summon every subtle note.

Now her scent filled his head, as familiar as if he’d slept beside her last night. And every night since the day they married.

He thought she’d settled, but she rolled over with another sigh. The sound held a troubled note. It was almost like she searched for something.

He knew that feeling well enough.

Just who was she dreaming of? Was she missing her lover Garson? If she spoke the bugger’s name, Robert might just lay waste to this pretty chamber.

When she curled in his direction, still without touching him, the breath jammed in his lungs. Every time she moved, he tensed up taut as a sail in a high wind. He wanted her touch. God alone knew how much he wanted it. But if she got too close, he couldn’t rely on his control.

Her head tossed on the pillow, and she gave a mew of displeasure.

Robert wanted to comfort her. He heard distress now, and however much he might question her faithfulness, he couldn’t bear her suffering. From the first, he’d have cut off his arm to save her from pain.

Then she wriggled closer and pressed that soft, sweet, damnably female body against his side. A lusciously round breast cushioned his arm.

She sucked in a shuddering breath, then released a deep exhalation of what sounded like contentment. Her arm in its silky sleeve snaked across his chest, and she cuddled into him, laying her head on his shoulder.

His heart stopped, then slammed against his ribs. His head buzzed with her nearness, and the shameful tears he’d fought all night pricked at his eyes. Just so had she slept beside him during the few weeks when they’d been together. Just so had she rubbed her cheek against his skin in a wordless declaration of love.

How he loved her. How he wanted her.

And how the devil was he to keep his hands to himself, when all his dreams were wrapped up in one slender woman who clung to him as if they’d never been apart?

He squeezed his eyes shut and told himself that he’d lived almost five years without her. One more night made no difference.

But when he’d survived without her, she hadn’t been snuggled up against him, soft as a kitten. She hadn’t been so near that he merely had to twitch a finger to touch her.

The room turned suffocatingly hot. Although the fire had burned down to embers, and he’d nearly frozen when he’d stood outside, trying to gather the courage to come in.

He gulped for air, which seemed to be in remarkably short supply. It didn’t make any noticeable difference to his troubles. His heart pounded as if it fought to break free of his chest. And his skin burned all along his side where she touched him. Thank God she lay still now, although the soft brush of her breath across his bare shoulder threatened to send him mad.

Since he’d been gone, he’d faced a thousand dangerous situations. He’d been in constant pain and fear for his life. He’d suffered torture and injury and fever.

Nothing compared to the agony of lying beside the wife he loved and restraining his impulse to take her.

Fate continued to have a laugh at his expense.

Just as he whispered a prayer of gratitude for her stillness, she started to wriggle again, nudging closer. This time, blast her, she used her hands.

At first, he thought the soft strokes across his chest were purposeless. He could almost resist, when he knew her actions verged on innocence.

Then that seeking hand drifted lower. His belly shrank away from her touch, but the heat seared him from head to toe.

Impossible to resist when her hand ventured further and curled around his cock. He’d imagined he couldn’t get any harder, but the touch of Morwenna’s fingers almost sent him shooting out of the bed.

She made a sleepy sound of satisfaction and tightened her grip until he saw stars.

When they’d first met, she’d been sweetly virginal. But she’d soon become a lover whose passion had fueled his fantasies for the past five years. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d have survived his privations—and nor would his sanity have survived either—if he hadn’t been able to escape into his head to relive their sultry nights.

Her touch was beguilingly clumsy. But before he could ponder what that might mean, she crushed her hot face into his bicep and kissed him.

The subtle movement of her lips on his skin beggared resistance. The poignant tenderness bypassed all his elaborately constructed defenses, and damn it if he didn’t blink away a tear as he stared into the darkness. Since he’d left her, tenderness had been a cruel absence in his life. He was powerless against it.

With a groan, Robert rolled over and pulled Morwenna under him.

Morwenna knew she wasn’t dreaming, although in a thousand fantasies since she’d lost him, Robert had seized her in his arms and risen above her in the darkness.

She was half-asleep, but she recognized that the living man was here with her. That this time at last she wouldn’t wake empty and unfulfilled and crying. Sometimes she’d reached such a pitch of need that she’d touched herself to take the edge off her desperation.

Even as she’d shuddered in lonely pleasure, it had been a barren release.

She missed the marital act, but nowhere near as much as she missed her dead husband. The banal touch of her hand where she wanted to feel Robert, hard, vital, ardent, couldn’t satisfy her heart’s cravings.

But this time, Robert’s presence was too solid, the details too physical for her to mistake this as anything but reality. His rich scent, heightened with arousal. The hot weight of his rod in her brazen hold. The rasp of the hairs on his bare legs against her skin as he settled between her thighs.

Her heart was racing. She caught one shallow breath, then another.

He hadn’t spoken, and she, afraid to break the spell binding them, stayed silent, too.

As he positioned himself, she raised her knees on either side of his narrow hips and tilted upward. The dying fire gave enough light for her to catch the gleam of his black eyes. He was staring down into her face, but she couldn’t begin to guess what he saw. Was he in the grip of a purely animal impulse? She wasn’t sure he was aware of what he did.

Perhaps it was wrong to surrender like this, when they had so much still to resolve. Perhaps for her pride’s sake, she should wait for him to court her again, so he felt she was worth winning.

But sorrow and pride made bad friends. She was overwhelmingly grateful that her husband was alive. If he wanted her, he could have her. However he chose.

Tender. Slow. Quick.

She’d expected swift and rough, but before accepting her unspoken invitation to thrust inside her body, he paused. She curled her arms around his back, holding tight, daring fate to steal him away again. At this moment, she didn’t particularly care if he didn’t love her. As long as he was here and not drowned.

She hadn’t expected any consideration, was so desperate to feel him moving inside her, she didn’t seek it. But he bent his head, and for the first time in five years, her husband kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. Instead, it was a primitive claiming.

She gloried in every heated moment.

His tongue thrust forward, demanding entrance. Shock held her still, until he nipped at her lower lip and on a muffled gasp, she opened. Immediate passion rose. There was no grace in this famished meeting of mouths. Teeth, lips, tongues clashed like a war.

She gave a whimper of helpless pleasure and sucked his tongue deep into her mouth. He tasted like heaven. She angled higher and dug her fingernails into his back.

Kissing her as if he starved, he shoved her nightdress out of the way and thrust his hand between her legs. She’d been wet before she even realized that he meant to take her. When his fingers found her dripping, he gave a growl of approval against her lips. He was breathing hard, and she felt each unsteady inhalation under her palms.

He stroked her deep, but didn’t linger to bring her to climax. She didn’t care. She was close to coming with his kisses, rough as they were.

He caught her hips with ruthless hands and pushed forward.

She gave a sharp, hard cry. Her unpracticed body contracted with shock. She hadn’t had a man in her bed since Robert had gone away, and she was no longer used to hard masculine invasion.

Robert stopped, and she felt a ripple of sensation run through him. He was shaking. So was she.

Then she felt him tense under her hands until his back felt like warm granite. With a groan that made her ears vibrate, he slid forward until he was fully seated inside her. Her initial discomfort vied with a powerful wave of feminine satisfaction. Her trembling intensified, and every nerve sparked with incandescent sensation. Until the pain was gone, and all she felt was full and complete and possessed.

And however unjustified, loved.

She released a choked whimper and arched up in a silent plea for more.

Robert was lost to everything but the hot clasp of Morwenna’s body. This was even better than he remembered, and by God, he’d done a lot of remembering.

He pulled back, delighting in the succulent slide, then plunged forward. More welcome. She tightened around him and gave another of those damnable little sighs that had caused the problem in the first place.

The craving for release was a storm inside him. Every muscle tightened to agony. He shifted again. To his shame, he couldn’t hold on. It had been too long, and he wanted her too much.

Then just as the tide of fiery darkness overtook him, he felt her shudder with the ultimate response, and she cried out again.

Robert plunged into her and let an eon of bitterness and misery and loneliness flood out of him in a torrent of hot bliss. He filled her with every drop of his essence and collapsed upon her, exhausted, cleansed, finally understanding that he was home to stay.

When he buried his head in the curve of her shoulder, her skin was damp and fragrant against his face. Her arms twined around him, anchoring him at last in safe harbor. Her body quivered after what they’d just done.

He could stay like this forever, but he must be crushing her. Even scrawny from five years of captivity, he was much heavier than she was.

He made himself pull free, inciting another sleepy murmur from Morwenna. Then, unable to let her go, he rolled onto his side and tucked her back against him. She was boneless and unresisting.

Weary satisfaction weighted his limbs. And the greatest satisfaction of all was that Robert now knew that during their long separation, his wife hadn’t played him false.