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Garson shifted yet again to try and find a comfortable position on the cramped bed in the dressing room. The cot was meant for a servant who traveled with the people sleeping in the main chamber. A valet or a maid. Not a huge brute like him. And definitely not a bridegroom who had every right to be enjoying his bride.

He bit back another curse and rolled over so that his feet stuck off the end. Tugging the blanket high about his shoulders didn’t help much against the cold night.

He could have stayed next door, but he didn’t trust himself to lie beside Jane without taking her. Shuddering, he recalled her spread out across the bed like a doll. The only color had been that magnificent fall of deep red hair, almost black in the firelight.

He’d be no gentleman to insist on his way, when she was so obviously afraid. But the sight of her arrayed for his use had made his cock stand hard and eager.

Damn it, he didn’t want his wife’s first experience of a man to be a matter of duty and discomfort. Especially as when he kissed her, he’d glimpsed something altogether sweeter.

Garson had approached his wedding night with no great anticipation, but when Jane had been so beguiling, a storm of desire had swept him up. All the more powerful for being unexpected.

Then, like a fool, he’d taken her responses for granted and frightened her. Now he lay alone and wakeful and bloody frustrated, a whole room away.

Had he scared her to a point where he’d never again awaken her passions? There were women who couldn’t or wouldn’t respond to a man. Was Jane like that? Surely not. She’d always been reserved. A shy little girl had grown up to become a self-contained woman. But he’d never believed her self-effacement signaled a lack of warmth, just a natural reticence and a lack of confidence, encouraged by that witch Susan who monopolized any available attention.

No, he’d wager every acre of his estate that Jane wasn’t cold, just uncertain and innocent. She needed careful handling, when so far, all he’d done was lumber around like a drunken yokel.

Despite his discomfort, a reminiscent smile tilted his lips. His wedding night might have proven a dismal failure, but he saw the promise of better things to come.

He just needed to overcome his wife’s fears and make her want him.

Much against expectations, Jane slept deeply and late. After all that turmoil, she’d been convinced that she’d see the dawn. But when she opened her eyes, the morning was well advanced. Sheer exhaustion had triumphed over turbulent emotions and a troubled spirit.

As one of the inn’s maids helped her dress, last night’s events took on a dreamlike quality. It was hard to believe that Hugh had kissed her to the verge of madness. But when she entered the sitting room and found her husband in his shirtsleeves, reading the London papers, her stomach lurched and her heart started to race. She couldn’t help remembering how he’d touched her.

Studying the man she’d married, she acknowledged that Caro Nash was right. Hugh was worth the effort.

He sat turned away from her, his armchair in a pool of winter sunshine. In profile like this, he looked like a knight in an old engraving.

Last night, he’d been a knight, too. In the light of day, she could appreciate his extraordinary chivalry. He hadn’t shouted at her. He’d even seemed to understand her uncertainty. And he’d left her to sleep alone.

He lowered the broadsheet and met her apprehensive regard. To her surprise, he smiled. A proper smile. She knew him well enough to recognize the difference.

“Good morning, Jane. How did you sleep?”

Not sure how to respond, she shifted from one foot to the other. She was as uncomfortable as she’d be if he’d used her body last night. “Good morning,” she said shakily.

She’d wondered whether he’d be angry, now he’d had time to stew on how she’d reneged on their arrangement. But he seemed just the same as always. Easygoing. Polite. Considerate.

He folded away the paper and rose to cross the floor toward her. He extended his hand and without thinking, she accepted it. More warmth and that inescapable ripple of awareness. Awareness deepened by her recollection of how she’d felt lashed tight in his arms.

Something that looked like masculine interest flickered in his dark eyes. She blushed.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world—which she supposed it was, given they were married—he brushed his lips across her cheek. “You’re looking lovely.”

It was a chaste salute. Not like last night’s hungry kisses. But her blush deepened, and her stomach gave that odd lurch again. Her knees wobbled, and she tightened her hold on his hand.

“Th-thank you,” she stammered, and didn’t think to argue with his compliment. Although she’d changed into one of her plain, unfashionable gowns ready for travel, and her mirror had told her that the strain of the last days showed on her face.

In a daze, she let him lead her to a table set for breakfast. For two.

She cast him a curious glance under her lashes. “Did you wait for me?”

How pitiful that this seemed such a concession on his part. Nobody had ever adjusted their habits to fit in with her before.

“Naturally.” Still holding her hand, Hugh took the seat cornerwise. She was staring at him like a moonling, when a pair of servants, including the maid who had helped her dress, arrived with their meal.

When Mary bestowed a misty-eyed glance on the newlyweds holding hands over the breakfast table, Jane blushed again. Which must only make her look more bridal.

Once she and Hugh were alone again, she made herself face him. “I promise I’ll do better.”

He paused in serving her some breakfast and shot her a searching look that pierced her to her bones. “No, the fault was all mine.”

He slid a plate piled high with eggs and bacon and sausages in front of her, then he served himself. Jane stared glumly down at her breakfast. “You know that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. But I have a plan to fix things.”

Startled, she glanced up. “You have?”

“Once we’ve had breakfast, I’ll tell you about it.”

“Can’t you tell me now?”

His lips twitched into a smile. Looking at his mouth made her think of his kisses. Her blood thickened and beat so hard that she almost missed what he said next.

“I’ll tell you when you’ve eaten something. You’re fading away before my eyes.”

“Hardly,” she said. “You fed me last night.”

“A mere snack.”

“I’m not five years old anymore, Hugh,” she said with a hint of vinegar.

The smile widened. “I’m well aware of that, my lady.” His voice deepened into sincerity. “Yesterday, I promised to cherish you. I know for years, it’s been Jane Norris as the lone warrior, fighting her own battles. But it doesn’t have to stay that way.”

She stiffened in her chair and fought back an absurd desire to cry. She hadn’t known Hugh had guessed so much about her life at Cavell Court. Because that was exactly how it had been.

“Curse you.” Her voice was scratchy. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

His eyes softened to the brown velvet that always tangled her heart into a knot. “‘Yes, Hugh. I intend to eat all my breakfast.’”

She hoped he didn’t hear the crack in her laugh. But to her surprise once she took her first mouthful, she was hungry. Her husband had no qualms about devouring his meal. Their difficult first night together clearly didn’t prey upon him the way it did on her.

Of course it didn’t. He might be disappointed that he’d missed the chance to plant a child in her womb, but otherwise, nothing of great significance had happened.

Stop it, Jane. You’ll go mad if you think like that. You’ve made your bed. Now you must lie on it.

With Hugh.

This morning, that prospect didn’t seem quite as intimidating as it had yesterday.

She’d entered this room eaten up with embarrassment and remorse. But Hugh’s relaxed manner gradually made her view last night’s events not as high tragedy, but as a step on the way to establishing their life together. A scene in a domestic comedy, perhaps.

Garson watched Jane pick up her coffee and wander across to the open window overlooking the bustling street. It was market day, and Salisbury was crowded. The cacophony from outside rose to their room.

She craned to see something below her, then laughed.

“You should do that more often,” Garson said from the table.

Her face alight with amusement, she turned to him. “What?”

“Laugh.”

The sparkle faded from her eyes. “Life has been deadly serious lately.”

“I know.” He hated to think of the toll the last years had taken on her.

In her drab, gray dress, she should look like the little mouse who had accepted his proposal. Except she hadn’t been a mouse then either, had she? Despite her grief, the woman at Cavell Court had carried an indefinable air of authority.

The list of his damn fool assumptions grew by the day.

Jane was plain and unassuming? No, she was pretty and intriguing.

He only wanted his wife because he needed a child? Tell that to the poor sap mad for her last night.

Most galling of all to his self-satisfaction was the asinine idea that seducing his new bride would pose no problems. With bleak amusement, he looked back on his simplistic expectations. He’d assumed marriage would require no major changes to his habits. A mere day after his wedding, and he already foresaw a host of complications. Not least his hunger for the bride he’d chosen purely for his own convenience.

Jane proved to be many things. So far, convenient wasn’t one of them.

He needed to change his definition of his wife from ordinary and cooperative, to fascinating and troublesome and devilish appealing. No wonder he was floundering. He cringed as he admitted that he’d planned to buy a workhorse, and instead found himself in charge of a Thoroughbred.

Curious to discover what caught her attention, Garson rose to stand beside her at the diamond-paned window. When she didn’t shrink away, it felt like a victory. Earlier, she’d looked ready to bolt. His attempt to lower the room’s emotional temperature seemed to be succeeding.

“What’s happening out there?”

She pointed to where a brindle mongrel raced through the market with a string of sausages dangling from its mouth. A fat man in a blood-stained apron, clearly the butcher, lumbered after the dog, but the animal was going to get away with his thievery. “It’s so interesting to have all this activity going on around us.”

As Garson surveyed the frankly provincial gathering, a vague idea solidified. “You’d like to see more of the world?”

“Very much.” She turned away from the hubbub below to study him. “In recent years, I’ve been no further than the cattle sales in Exeter. I couldn’t leave Papa for long periods. You’ve wed a woeful rustic.”

How lonely her life had been. Pure drudgery. Her delight in Salisbury’s limited entertainments was proof of that. His plans firmed. “I’ve been thinking about what we should do.”

When the ease drained from her expression, he damned his unintentionally ambiguous statement. Her wariness was familiar from last night. “Oh?”

The tight little syllable made him want to curse, although a display of temper wouldn’t advance his case. “I meant our wedding trip.”

Of course he’d thought about last night, too. But he needed extreme care to negotiate his way through that thorny subject.

Her shoulders lowered, but her eyes remained watchful. “Aren’t we going north to Beardsley? “

He’d intended to rush her back to his estate, but now he reconsidered. Last night, she’d obviously felt completely overcome. Taking her to a new home where she’d feel even more at a disadvantage didn’t seem the wisest move.

Perhaps if they lingered on neutral ground, she might reconcile herself to becoming his wife more easily.

“I was wondering if you’d like a holiday first. This part of the country offers plenty of attractions, and the inn is good. We could stay a few days, take in the sights.”

“Stonehenge is only a couple of miles away. It seems a pity to miss seeing it.” She looked thoughtful. “Are you sure? You seemed so eager to go back to Derbyshire.”

He had been, when he’d thought Jane would fit into his life like a doll put inside a box. “I’d enjoy a short honeymoon.”

She looked strained once more. The connotations of a honeymoon clearly remained unappealing.

By God, he intended to change that before too long.

“It’s not the best weather,” she said.

“We’ll manage. If you like the idea.”

She considered briefly, then nodded. “I do. Thank you.”

He stepped closer and noticed her subtle shift away. He had so much work to do to make up for being such a dunderheaded oaf last night. “Then I’d like to go to London.”

“London?”

He took her hand. She never objected to that. “We could buy you some new dresses and go to a few parties. The season is starting, so I can introduce my lovely bride to society.”

“If you think so.”

He’d expected her to applaud his suggestion, but she seemed hesitant. “If you want to avoid society and just take in the sights, that’s fine, too. We’re newly married. People will grant us some privacy.”

She shot him a mocking glance. “As if we’ll be allowed to hide away. All your friends must be dying of curiosity about the woman you married.”

She was right. “Will you mind?”

“I’ll have to face them some time,” she said. “Probably better sooner rather than later.”

“Good girl.” He stared hard at her. “There’s something else we need to face, you know.”

“What happened last night,” she muttered, withdrawing her hand. Her reluctance to broach this subject couldn’t be clearer, if she’d shouted it from the rooftops.

“Yes. Can you bear to talk about it?”

“If we must.”

He studied this woman who proved more complex—and more interesting—by the minute. “What happened, Jane? Tell me, so there are no misunderstandings.”

He liked it when she blushed. The pink rising under her clear white skin made her look about sixteen. “I hadn’t expected…”

He waited patiently, although he guessed what was to come.

Jane bit her lips and cast him a nervous glance before she looked out the window again. He’d wager that this time, she didn’t see much on the busy street. “Must I say?”

He decided to help her. “You felt desire, and it scared you.”

When she looked back, her gray eyes were troubled. “Of course.”

“It’s good that you desire your husband.”

“Not when…” She bit her lip again, then went on in a rush. “Not when we’re strangers.”

Garson bit back a curse, although he’d diagnosed the issues pretty accurately. The question of how to solve them remained. “You’ve known me all your life, Jane.”

“But not like…this.”

No, not like this. His hunger had shocked him, and he was a sophisticated man. Jane was a complete innocent. No wonder she’d recoiled from a fire that threatened to rage out of control.

“I’d like to make a bargain.”

The wary look remained. “Oh?”

“Yes, another bargain.” Despite the fraught atmosphere, he hid a smile. “One that I hope you’ll like better than the one we made three weeks ago.”

“I don’t dislike that bargain. I just had a…a failure of nerve.” She sounded as if she faced the hangman. Avoiding his eyes, she plucked at her skirts.

“I rushed you into this.”

“You’re sorry that you married me?” She looked stricken. “I can’t blame you. I’m acting like such a ninnyhammer.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no,” he said urgently, catching those busy fingers. “I’m pleased as Punch with my choice of bride.”

Typical of Jane, she didn’t look convinced. “You’re just being kind.”

Garson squeezed her hand. “On my honor, I mean it. Now I have to convince you that you’ve made the right choice.”

“It’s too late to change my mind.”

He winced theatrically. “That sounds bad.”

“No, I mean that I intend to make the best of our situation.” She raised her chin. “I won’t be difficult tonight.”

“Damn it, Jane,” he bit out, resenting the stony purpose in her tone.

She pulled her hand free. “I don’t understand what you expect,” she said sadly. “I thought I did when you proposed. But everything has changed.”

Because he’d discovered he wanted her. He believed that if he was careful and clever and lucky, he could make her want him back. Good God, she’d wanted him last night. Otherwise she wouldn’t be so skittish.

“Is that necessarily a bad thing?”

She faced him, slender and gallant in the sunlight pouring through the window. “It is, if I can’t give you what you need.”

“That’s true for my part as well. I don’t want you unhappy.”

She made a helpless gesture. “So here we are, full of good intentions, but with no way to fulfill them.”

Ah, at last his moment arrived. “That’s not true. What you need is time to get to know me, as a husband, not a friend. In short, Jane, I aim to give you a proper courtship.”