Hugh kneeled over her legs so he could cradle her face between his hands. She closed her eyes and trembled in his grasp, although the urge to retreat into the pillows was nigh irresistible. Bunching her hands against the sheet, she told herself she could bear this. All she needed to do was keep him from sweeping her away into that terrifying tide of excitement.

He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. Immediately, she braced against a wave of powerful response that seemed out of kilter with the sweetness of his kiss. He cupped her nape and began a gentle kneading. The temptation to sway forward was overwhelming, but she managed to resist it.

After a few moments, Hugh pulled away. His breath was warm on her face. Another intimacy.

When he didn’t speak, she gradually opened her eyes. His expression was rueful. “This isn’t going to happen, is it?”

Her guilt spiked. “I won’t fight you.”

He shook his head, more in disappointment than denial, she thought. “I know you won’t.”

“Then?”

He let her go and moved away to slump against the pillows beside her. “Do you want this, Jane?”

Did she? The touch of his lips ripping the soul from her body and threatening to turn sensible Jane Norris—Jane Rutherford, now—into someone she didn’t recognize? “Do you?”

His grunt held a derisive edge. “More than I ever imagined I would.”

Given that until three weeks ago, he’d never expressed a moment’s interest in her as anything other than a family friend, that was probably true. She licked her lips, and something feminine inside her responded to his lingering taste. “Perhaps the problem is the kissing.”

He looked skeptical, lifting one expressive eyebrow in her direction. “Indeed?”

“Yes,” she said, warming to her theory. “If I lie back and you…do what you need to, we can finish quickly and without trouble.”

Another grunt of sour amusement. “Like taking a nasty medicine all in one gulp?”

Heat stung her cheeks. He was a little too acute. That had been exactly her idea. “I don’t want to let you down.”

“I commend your principles.”

Her lips tightened. “Sarcasm isn’t helpful.”

“No, it’s not,” he said grimly. “I’ll feel let down if my wife takes no pleasure in what I do to her. Do you loathe my touch so much?”

“No,” she said aghast, before she could stop herself. “It’s just…”

Watching her handsome husband when he spoke of such private matters did strange things to her insides. That heavy, dark gaze set up a quiver in her stomach that reminded her of how she’d felt lost in his kisses.

Hugh sighed and ran his hand through his thick hair. More than ever, he looked like a sulky deity. “You’re not yet accustomed to the idea of being my wife.”

“I thought I was.” Jane looked down to where her hands pleated the sheets. The sight of her wedding ring still caught her by surprise. “You’ve made a bad bargain.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he murmured. “But I was unfair, expecting you to make the transition from nurse to wife, without time to adjust to your new life.”

“I’m willing to do my part,” she said shakily. “Perhaps this time, it would be better if you didn’t kiss me.”

However mad it seemed, the thought of that vigorous male body pumping into her wasn’t nearly so scary as his kisses.

“If you’re sure,” he said, sounding unconvinced. She couldn’t blame him. No doubt other ladies clamored for his attentions. The thought of those other ladies added a dollop of jealousy to her stew of emotions. Which was a disaster and showed just how dangerous Hugh’s kisses were.

Because he was in love with another woman and always would be. If she let that unarguable fact set its claws into her, life would become a nightmare. She couldn’t risk developing any possessive feelings about her husband.

“And maybe…maybe you should blow out the candles.”

His eyes narrowed on her, as if she posed a logistical problem that he meant to solve. She supposed she must. This turmoil had caught them both unprepared. After all, they’d entered this marriage with the same businesslike approach she’d use to buy a new cow.

Except in this particular deal, she was the cow.

That pragmatism had misled her into thinking that everything between them would be matter-of-fact. Her innocence had betrayed her. Apparently it was difficult to share a man’s bed, without crossing the line between friendship and a relationship impossible to define, but more disturbing than she’d ever imagined.

“I don’t want shame to contaminate what we do together,” he said.

Shame? Was that what she felt? Jane didn’t think so. What he’d done had felt outlandish, but she hadn’t been disgusted. Even when he’d pushed his tongue into her mouth.

No, it had been exciting. Too exciting.

Instinct insisted that she had to maintain some distance from her husband. When Hugh’s mouth claimed hers, that became impossible. “I think if I can’t see you, it will help,” she said, hating the squeak in her voice. “Just this time.”

“Don’t you find me attractive?” he asked, and she cringed at her tactlessness. What could she say? Any woman would find him attractive, but every ounce of her Norris pride revolted at the idea of yearning after a man who didn’t want her.

“You’re my husband,” she said shakily, and she knew they both noted how she’d evaded his question.

“I am indeed.” The sternness returned to his voice.

Hugh left the bed and stalked about the room, blowing out the candles, until only the glow of the fire remained. Jane gulped and told herself she’d only sound more of a fool than she did already if she asked him to bank it. The night was cold, and the big room needed heating.

There was enough light to reveal the offended set of his shoulders and the annoyed briskness of his hands when he tugged at the sash holding his dressing gown closed. Trepidation jammed in her throat, as she waited for him to remove the robe.

He sent her a glance, unreadable in the shadows, but she guessed it was impatient. The dressing gown remained in place, although hanging loose, it hinted at the mysteries beneath in a way that fed both her nerves and her curiosity.

Despite the chill in the air, she flung aside the blankets and lay back. But even as she fortified her courage, she couldn’t help the catch of her breath when he stood beside the bed.

His body blocked the firelight, so she couldn’t see much more than a big, dark outline. She’d hoped to feel braver if she wasn’t watching his every move. It hadn’t worked out that way.

“Spread out like a proper little virgin sacrifice,” he said flatly.

She didn’t try to hide her wince. “You said you wanted to do this.”

“I did,when I thought you were willing.”

“I’ve done nothing to deny you.” Well, apart from that moment she’d stiffened in his arms, but even then, she hadn’t asked him to stop.

“So why do I feel like a villain from a play?”

She bit her lip and avoided answering. “Would you like me to take my nightdress off?”

“Do you want to?”

Not at all. In fact, right now, she wished she’d stuck to her guns and moved to Weymouth for a spinsterish life of good works and afternoon calls. But it was too late to regret her choices.

“I want what you want,” she said miserably, curling her fingers into the bedding and biting back a demand for him to get on with it.

“Wrong answer.”

Tears blurred her eyes. Jane had no idea what the right answer was. She should have known she’d botch this. Bitterness surged when she recalled the few moments earlier today when illusory hope had lifted her heart.

To her mortification, when she inhaled, her shakiness was clearly audible. She blinked frantically up at the firelit shadows dancing on the ceiling.

“Hell.” Hugh ran his hand through his hair again. “I’m a deuced callous brute. Please don’t cry, Jane.”

“You’re not a callous brute,” she said thickly.

“Yes, I am.” He sat on the edge of the bed but to her relief, didn’t try to touch her.

“I’ve failed you.” Her voice was scratchy, as she fought back the urge to howl like an abandoned baby.

“No, you haven’t. I expected too much.”

“You’re being nice, when really you shouldn’t be. This hasn’t been the wedding night you wanted.”

Something about the shape of his body in the darkness reassured her that right now he had no designs on her. Gingerly she sat up and rested against the headboard.

“It’s had a few compensations,” he said drily.

Now that it seemed she was safe—which was a telling word to choose to describe her failure as a bride—what he said made her recall his kisses. She’d been so frightened and overcome. But in retrospect, the power of what she’d felt set off another of those heated ripples.

Surely she couldn’t be regretting that he’d stopped. At the time, all she’d wanted was for it to be over.

Well, perhaps not all she’d wanted.

Because now that the passionate stranger was gone, replaced by the cordial companion she knew, she could admit that she’d been afraid of the pleasure, not that Hugh would hurt her.

“Shall I lie down again?” she asked, although the charged atmosphere had receded.

He shook his head. “We have all our lives ahead, Jane. Perhaps this isn’t the beginning we’d choose, but we have good will and friendship.” He paused. “We have, haven’t we?”

“Of course.”

He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips again. Stupid, now he’d given her a reprieve, to suffer a pang of longing at the contact.

He lowered her hand. “Then that’s enough for now.”

Even through her relief, she didn’t believe that. However much he loved Morwenna, for a brief space tonight, he’d desired his wife. But she was wise enough not to argue.

“Yes,” she said, her voice reedy.

He released her and stood. “I’ll sleep in the dressing room, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Even more stupidly, she regretted that he let her go. Henwitted as the notion was, she couldn’t help thinking that nothing could hurt her when Hugh held her hand. She’d felt like that, even as a little girl. She licked dry lips. “You can…you can stay if you like.”

His snort was dismissive. “Definitely not a good idea, Jane.”

“The…the bed in there won’t be as comfortable as this one.”

Why on earth was she pushing this? She wanted a chance to find her feet in this marriage before he touched her again, and Hugh appeared willing to give that to her. She should just shut up and let him go.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said drily.

“Oh,” she said, feeling useless and awkward. And guilty. “I’m so sorry, Hugh.”

“Please stop apologizing. It’s not the end of the world.”

Right now it seemed like it. Had her stupid jitters destroyed any hope of making a success of her marriage? The silence extended, turned heavy with so much she’d like to say, but couldn’t.

I wish you weren’t in love with another woman.

I wish we could start with a clean slate.

I wish I wasn’t your second-best bride.

Hugh bent his head in an oddly courtly gesture. “Good night, Jane. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Hugh,” she whispered, watching him leave the room. The slump of his shoulders reeked of defeat. He, too, must wonder where they went from here.

She felt a mad urge to call him back. But what would be the point? He wanted a passion that promised oblivion, and she wanted something much more prosaic. Somewhere they’d have to find a meeting place. There were those children he planned on having, after all.

Even once he’d gone, Jane sat staring after him. Although Hugh had done his best all day to hide it, she had no doubt that he regretted that she wasn’t his beloved Morwenna. She harked back to his honesty about his lost love when he’d proposed. Part of her wished that he’d deigned to lie. Even just a little.

Devil take her. She needed to stop moping. She’d vowed that she wouldn’t torture herself over Morwenna. She’d also vowed—publicly and before God—that she’d be a good wife to Hugh. On both counts, she’d fallen short.

“You can do better, Jane,” she said aloud, but the bracing command didn’t help to raise her spirits. Instead she felt inadequate and unfair.

And as she stared into the darkness, mostly she just felt…lonely.