Garson gritted his teeth together so hard that they threatened to crack. The pain in his jaw saved him from losing himself.

The pain in his jaw almost made him forget the pain in his balls.

It would be so simple to…

He lashed one arm around Jane, as she dissolved into her first climax. The rich scent of satisfied female intoxicated him, and the broken music of her moans threatened his barely held control.

She surrendered to her crisis with voluptuous ease, then slumped back against him with an exhausted exhalation. The tug of her muscles on his fingers as he withdrew was an almost irresistible invitation to take the next step. Even though it worsened his plight, he lifted his hips so the thick length of his dick pressed into her rump.

After a long, sweet interval, she shifted to drape her legs over the seat and rest her cheek on his shoulder. At last he could see her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were swollen and red. Tendrils of dark auburn hair coiled across her bosom.

Jane’s breasts were exquisite, white as milk with two perfect pink nipples. Her skirts bunched around her thighs, revealing long, shapely legs. He could hardly reconcile the composed lady who had accepted his proposal with this vision of earthy sensuality.

Slowly she opened her eyes, lashes fluttering on her cheeks. A sigh parted her lips, giving him a glimpse of small white teeth.

“Hugh…” She sounded almost surprised to see him.

His lips quirked, although he remained stretched on an agonizing rack of frustrated desire. He’d loved seeing her attain her peak. He’d loved that he’d been privileged to introduce Jane to physical pleasure. Hell, a few days ago, she’d never even been kissed.

But he was only human. The need to thrust inside his wife was an agonizing imperative. He was excruciatingly aware of each bump of the carriage and how close she was to naked.

 “You expected someone else?” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his fingers, when his deepest impulse was to inhale her scent until his head swam.

“No,” she answered seriously, as if the silly question deserved an answer. He saw she hadn’t yet returned to prosaic reality. She gave him a dreamy smile and touched his cheek. “That was lovely. Thank you.”

The last time he’d lured her to the brink of surrender, she’d raised her defenses immediately afterward. But now lying across his lap, she looked sweet and satiated and languid.

Garson leaned down before he remembered the stupid rules. Rules? More like a prison sentence. He had nobody but himself to blame. He’d shoved his hands into the shackles by his own free will.

“Damn it, I want to kiss you.” He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that.

She tilted her face up. “Then why don’t you?”

“Because I’ve kissed you already today, and I made a promise. I must have been insane, when I came up with these blasted nitwitted conditions.”

Her low laugh made the hairs on his skin rise. “I’m willing to reward good behavior.”

He took a second to register what she’d said. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

Before he could swoop in to kiss her, she slid her hand behind his neck and drew him down. Her kiss was breathtakingly playful, a rain of teasing contacts. He groaned and opened his mouth over her, drinking her in. Then regretfully he retreated.

She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Apart from a case of blue balls likely to prove fatal? “We can’t be far from Salisbury.”

Jane looked bewildered, then he watched reality smash through pleasure’s lingering spell. The misty light left her eyes, and she looked horrified as she glanced down at her bare breasts and splayed legs. “Oh, my dear heaven, I’m half-naked.”

“Yes, and what a glorious sight you are.”

She scrambled off his knees, shaking hands hauling the edges of her bodice closed. “You ravished me in a carriage.”

He didn’t appreciate the tone of accusation. “Not quite.”

Jane settled on the seat facing him. Only a couple of feet distant, but she still felt too far away. “As good as.”

Tell that to my dick, he wanted to retort. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

She sucked in an audible breath and hitched at her shift and corset, to his regret restoring her modesty. His hands fisted against the leather seat as he resisted the urge to drag her back into his arms.

A shy glance from gray eyes. “Actually I’m not as…embarrassed as I should be.”

“I’m glad.”

“Why didn’t you…”

He passed her his handkerchief. “Go ahead and finish it?”

Her expression turned troubled. “Yes.”

“I’m caught by my own clever plan.” Garson tried not to watch as she quickly cleaned herself up. Even while she did her best to preserve her dignity, the sight was too arousing, too intimate for a man on the verge of losing control. “With the trip ending in an hour, I knew I’d have to rein myself in. I never thought you’d let me take things so far.”

She set the handkerchief on the seat beside her and began to fumble with the fastenings of her dress. “You did rein yourself in.”

He ran his hand through his hair. God give him strength. That sounded like a complaint.

“You only had to say the word.” He sighed and shifted to sit beside her. “Let me do that.”

“Yes, Hugh,” she said with uncharacteristic docility and dropped her hands so he could do up her bodice.

Grinding his teeth, he struggled not to touch her skin. Wheels rattling on cobbles warned him they were back in Salisbury. They’d reach the Red Lion any moment.

Garson set her bonnet on her head and did his best to tuck her hair under it. As she tipped her face up and gave him a soft smile, the horses drew to a stop. “Thank you for looking after me.”

He almost growled. He was still far from tranquil. Fiddling with her clothing and messing about with handfuls of that warm silky hair didn’t help. “Of course I’m looking after you.” He grabbed the crumpled handkerchief and shoved it into his pocket. “You’re my bloody wife, aren’t you?”

A mysterious smile touched her lips. “You know, I think I just might be,” she said in a low voice.

Before he had a chance to ponder that startling statement, the ostler opened the carriage door, and Garson had to pretend that he was a civilized man and not a ravening beast, slavering to tumble his bride.

Jane emerged from the bedroom to find the parlor table set for one. She surveyed the silver and glassware arrayed across the oak surface, and a great lump of foreboding settled in her stomach.

Had she done something wrong this afternoon? Had she been too eager?

Surely not. Hugh had wanted her so much, he’d been shaking.

She’d felt reckless and eager. She wanted to feel that way again. Her instincts told her that she stood at the threshold of indescribable pleasure. Perhaps it was time to abandon caution and step inside.

With a shuddery breath, she recalled those extraordinary moments in the carriage. Her hand crept toward the breasts he’d caressed to such devastating effect. Oh, what his hands had done to her after that. Just now when she’d run the damp flannel over her body, wicked images had flooded her mind, and she’d blushed, even though she was alone.

The maid came in with a laden tray and set it on the sideboard. She turned and curtsied. “Good evening, Lady Garson.”

“Good evening, Mary. Do you know where his lordship is?”

The expression in the girl’s eyes looked like pity. “I saw him heading out for a walk, my lady.”

Clearly Mary thought the bridegroom already tired of his wife and went in search of diversion.

Had he? Surely not. Jane refused to accept Hugh could touch her like that, then rush out to pump his frustrations into some doxy. Call her naïve, but she just couldn’t believe it.

Jane glanced out the window to avoid the maid’s sharp eyes. While she and Hugh had been doing outrageous things in his luxurious carriage, the weather had closed in. “It’s snowing.”

“He mentioned wanting some fresh air.” The girl began to set out the dishes, then paused to place something else on the table.

“What’s that?”

“He left you a note, my lady.”

That sounded more like him. “What about his supper?”

“He said he’d have something downstairs when he came in. He also said he might be late.”

What in heaven’s name was going on? Although one thing was clear. She’d provided Mary with enough entertainment for one evening. “You may go.”

“Shall I come back to help you to undress?” With a curiously gloating light in her eyes, the girl plastered a humble expression onto her pretty face. Jane cringed to realize that everyone at the inn must know that she and her husband didn’t share a bed. The clean sheets were evidence enough.

“I’ll ring if I need you,” she said firmly.

“Very good, my lady.” The girl’s curtsy conveyed a hint of insolence.

Nasty little minx. Although she always simpered at Hugh.

Once Jane was alone, she ripped open the note. But it proved irritatingly uninformative.

I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well. H

Sighing, Jane set the sheet of paper down and stared blindly across the room. Since the wedding, she and Hugh had been together every day. Perhaps he wanted some time to himself. The fact that she enjoyed his company didn’t mean he felt the same about her. She’d been so lonely at Cavell Court—the recent attentions of an attractive, intelligent man had shown her how lonely. Hugh on the other hand had always led a full, engaged existence.

Oh, dear, had she bored him? Was that why he left her alone? She’d seen no sign that she had, but his perfect manners meant he’d do his best to hide any dissatisfaction.

“Stop panicking,” she muttered. “He’s gone for a walk. It’s not the end of the world.”

But while she’d come into the parlor famished after a day in the fresh air, not to mention that exquisite hour in the carriage, now she contemplated her rapidly cooling dinner and wondered if she could swallow even a morsel.