In an agony of suspense, Felicity waited to hear Canforth’s response to her plea. Had she pushed too far? Broken their unspoken truce? Proven she was no lady, but a brazen trollop?

But he said he wanted her. And even in her inexperience, she’d recognized his hunger when he’d turned to her in his dream. And there was no mistaking the hot male weight pressing against her stomach. Whatever his mind or his conscience might say, his body showed unequivocal interest in taking things further.

When he started to pull away, her heart plummeted into her stomach. Failure tasted rank on her tongue.

God forgive her, she’d made a mistake. Been too forward, too needy, too…real.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, lifting her hands from his shoulders.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked, rolling off her and sitting up. The fire didn’t provide much light, but she made out the powerful outline of his chest and shoulders against the shadows. Even too thin, he remained an impressive figure of a man.

“For…for asking…” Her voice faded to nothing, as she sat up and faced him.

“Silly goose.” White teeth flashed as he smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for. Believe me.”

He caught her hand and carried it to his lips. The kiss he brushed across her knuckles made her tremble—and hope.

“Canforth?” she asked uncertainly.

He kept hold of her hand, and his eyes glittered as they focused on her. “After all this time, do you think you could bear to call me Edmund?”

Ridiculous to balk at such an intimacy when not long ago, his finger had penetrated her body with astonishing and arousing effect. The memory of those sizzling caresses still heated her blood. “Are you sure?”

“Only if you feel comfortable. But you’re my wife. I’d feel privileged if you used my Christian name.”

She nodded. “In that case, I feel privileged, too. Edmund.”

Those straight shoulders eased, and he released a long breath. She couldn’t imagine why he cared what she called him, but it was apparent that he did. “You do an old military man’s heart good.”

“You’re not old,” she said quickly. “You’re in the prime of life.”

“I’ve come back to you a physical wreck.”

Despite the darkness, her hand unerringly found the scar on his cheek. With an aching tenderness that she hoped he felt, she traced the line of the cut. “I told you—as long as you’ve come back to me, I don’t care.”

“Ah, Flick,” he said, her name a soft exhalation. “You never told me why your parents called you Flick.”

“When I was a toddler, I couldn’t pronounce Felicity. Flick was as close as I got.”

“Would you rather I called you Felicity?”

She shook her head. Did he know he continued to hold her hand? It was odd—nice—sitting in the darkness on Christmas morning and swapping confidences. “No. I…like the way you say Flick.”

“I like that I have a special name for you.”

“So do I.” Her fingers tightened on his, and she said a silent prayer for him to stay. Now and forever.

But it seemed heaven wasn’t listening, because he released her and rose from the bed.

Despite her resolution to be brave and make no demands, when he was so newly returned home, a hum of distress escaped her.

“What is it?” Edmund turned and studied her through the winter gloom.

She wanted to lie, but the unadorned truth emerged. “Don’t go.”

His laugh was a rumbling undertone. “My dear wife, wild horses wouldn’t drag me away.”

“Then what are you doing?”

He shifted toward the fire, presenting a breathtaking view of his naked back and buttocks. Despite favoring his left leg, he moved more freely than he had yesterday. He’d blamed last night’s pain on the long ride in the cold. She hadn’t been sure whether to believe him, or whether he tried to protect her from learning the full extent of his injuries.

“Because I want to do this right.” Edmund stoked the glowing embers in the hearth, then gave Digby a pat and a murmured word, before placing a couple of logs on the fire.

The revitalized flames illuminated his noble profile, with its high forehead and arrogant nose and defined jaw. He looked at ease in a way she’d never seen. As if he’d worn a mask of politeness and carefully maintained consideration, but now the mask fell away to reveal the real man.

Silently, Felicity watched the everyday movements, while her heart crashed into an excited gallop. Beyond those unsatisfying encounters in her bed, they’d never enjoyed the quiet intimacy of sharing a room. Tonight a fragile thread twined them together. She felt married to this man she loved in a way she never had before.

The air quivered with the promise of pleasure. A rich tide of anticipation washed through her, and she stretched against the rumpled sheets like a cat in the sunlight. She’d never felt like this. So full of love that she was likely to explode into a volley of stars.

Edmund lit a couple of candles and placed them on the mantel, setting the room aglow. He turned to face her as she pushed upright against the pillows. A man’s body remained in many ways a mystery, although she gloried in the changes from the sleeping Edmund to this awake, fully aroused version. Her fingers clenched in the sheets. She itched to touch him, to explore those hard planes of muscle and bone so different from her soft curves.

“Shall I fetch my robe?”

The old, shy Felicity would have hidden her head under the covers by now. Tonight she took her time assessing this man she’d married so long ago. “No.”

A faint, pleased smile curved his mouth as he returned to lighting candles.

The frankness of her desire surprised her. She’d always loved Edmund, but never before had her love felt so earthy. A hot weight settled in the base of her belly, craving for his skin against hers, the heated meeting of bodies.

He paused in his preparations, and their eyes conducted a simmering but silent conversation. Invitation and acceptance. She wanted what was to come more than she wanted to take her next breath. Pray God she wasn’t mistaken, but what she saw in his face told her that he felt the same.

“Take down your hair,” he said quietly.

With unsteady hands, she loosened her plait until her hair cloaked her shoulders. Edmund gave another of those heavy exhalations, as if he’d been holding his breath for hours.

“This is what I dreamed about.” He stepped forward and gripped the carved base of the bed. The candlelight shone on the cruel burns across the back of his hands. “Now take off your nightdress.”

Felicity swallowed to moisten a dry mouth, even as she moved to obey. With a bit of maneuvering, she tugged the thick flannel nightdress over her head.

She was blushing. Of course she was. But her eyes were steady as they met his. She rested against the piled pillows and let her hands fall open at her sides.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “You beggar my fantasies.”

“I’m glad.”

“You’ll think me a satyr, but so often in the hell of the Peninsula, I pictured you just like this. Army life provides no sweetness, just incessant brute masculinity. But in the few quiet moments, I’d close my eyes and think of the woman waiting for me at home.”

“I don’t think you’re a satyr at all.” Her heart cramped with love, and stabbing compassion for all he’d sacrificed in the name of duty. “I wish I’d known you thought of me. It would have been a comfort.”

“Of course I thought of you. Constantly.” His eyes sharpened. “Did you think of me?”

She didn’t try to hide her surprise and pleasure at his confession. “All the time.”

“And did you wait?”

She took a second to understand what he asked; it was so far from the reality of her solitary life these last years. “I’ve had no man but you in my bed, Edmund.” She paused before admitting the dangerous, awkward truth. “I’ve wanted no man but you in my bed.”

Triumph turned his gray eyes silver. “I hoped. I guessed.”

He was glad. That must mean something. She linked her hands over her bare stomach in an attempt to calm her nerves. She was painfully conscious of her nakedness. How she wished he’d touch her, so she didn’t feel quite so on display. But this might be her only chance to ask the question that had troubled her since he left.

Her voice emerged as a husky murmur. “I know I really have no right to ask this. The world views a man’s needs as so much more urgent than a woman’s, after all. And it’s so many years. And you made no promises of fidelity before you went away…”

Edmund’s expression was unreadable. “Yes, I did. When we stood before the altar, I vowed to be faithful.”

She frowned, trying to make sense of what he said. She couldn’t have heard him right. If she had, surely it must be too good to be true. “You mean—”

His gaze remained unwavering. “I mean I’ve had no woman in my bed since I left your side.”

She struggled to contain her relief and happiness. Her husband wasn’t a liar. She knew that. But still his claim pushed the limits of belief. “That must have been difficult.”

A sardonic grunt of laughter escaped. “Not that difficult. I married you because you’re the only woman I want. I don’t need a substitute.”

Wide-eyed, she stared at him. However unlikely his story, she found she believed him. Even the part about him wanting her. Every word he spoke radiated sincerity.

Joy surged, strong enough to wash away old doubts. “I had no idea.”

One hand made a sweeping gesture. “Why the devil else did you imagine I proposed?”

She shook her head. “I thought you needed a wife.”

A faint snort. “So anyone would do, even you?”

“I come from a good family, and I brought a fat dowry.”

He frowned. “You do know you’re speaking arrant nonsense, don’t you? You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I took one look at you across that ballroom, and I knew I’d met my destiny.”

“Oh,” she said breathlessly, desperate to keep her heart from taking wing and flying up into the heavens. None of this was exactly a declaration of love, but she now saw she’d badly miscalculated his emotional stake in this marriage. A trembling hand reached down for the sheet.

“Don’t.”

She met eyes ablaze with yearning. No matter how awkward she felt, sitting here without a stitch to cover her, she couldn’t deny him. She left the sheet where it was.

“So why did you marry me?” he asked.

Because I loved you so much, I felt likely to perish of it.

But although they’d done so much to bridge the distance between them, admitting her love remained a step too far. Traces of her old shyness lingered, for all that she sat naked before him.

“I liked you.” That much she’d dare. “I still do.”

He arched questioning auburn eyebrows. “That’s a damned lukewarm reason for accepting a fellow.”

Stupid to blush, when she’d made no secret that she wanted congress with her husband. “You were a catch.”

He shook his head. “Not good enough. That season, you had a duke’s heir and a marquess after you, not to mention a couple of baronets who could buy and sell me ten times over.”

She ventured a little more honesty. “You were the only one who made my heart beat faster. And you were always so kind and gentle.”

He looked horrified. “You make me sound like a dashed milksop.”

She smiled. “No. There’s strength in your sweetness. You’re the bravest, best man I know. I was a naïve country girl when I accepted you, but I’ve never been sorry about my choice.”

He shifted as though her praise brought equal pleasure and embarrassment. “While you were smart and lovely, and I couldn’t believe my luck when you said yes. I’ve never regretted my choice either, but you were so pure and untouched, I feared my passion would terrify you.”

“I’ve always been stronger than you knew.”

“I see that now. But you trembled in my arms and cried the first time I came to you. And you seemed no more reconciled to my attentions by the time I left.”

“It was all so…overwhelming.” She was old enough now to see how her reticence had hurt him, broken the trust between them. Blast her shyness and her ignorance. “And I wasn’t sure what you wanted of me.”

“You didn’t like it?” he asked gently.

“At first, what you did was so outlandish, I was frightened. By the time you left, I’d started to enjoy our encounters.” She looked down into her lap to avoid his eyes. “I liked that you made me feel I was the center of your world.”

“You were.” His jaw squared with determination. “You are. You must know that by now. I wonder that you were uncertain of it then.”

Warmth flowed along her veins, feeding a frail optimism. He wouldn’t say these breathtaking things if he didn’t mean them. “You were always in such a hurry to leave afterward, I was sure I’d done something wrong.”

Guilt darkened his expression. “Never. But what I wanted was so primitive, so all-encompassing, I held back for fear of giving you a disgust for the act. And for me. I couldn’t trust myself not to turn to you again and again. Yet you felt so fragile in my arms, you deserved my care, not my fierceness.”

Her smile contained a fair dose of remorse, too. “And because you showed me such care, I felt you didn’t care.”

His hand tightened on the base of the bed until the knuckles shone white. “Never think I don’t care, Flick.”

She gave a broken laugh. “Edmund, it seems we’re both victims of our good intentions. If I’d known you wanted me, I’d have been braver. At least after the first time.”

He still looked troubled. “We didn’t know how to talk to one another then.”

“But we know better now.”

His expression was austere. “My prayer every night I was away was that I’d live to come back to you.”

“And mine was that you’d live to come back to me.”

“We’ve been fools.”

She shifted against the sheets in a futile attempt to ease the insistent heat between her legs. “We have.”

A sensual glint entered his eyes. “Do I still make your heart beat faster?”

She extended one hand toward him. To her surprise, it didn’t tremble. But his admissions tonight had taught her a measure of courage. “Why don’t you come closer and find out?”

To her regret, he didn’t immediately take up the invitation. “If I touch you now, I won’t be kind. I’ll use you to the limit. I’ve starved for you, and only your complete surrender will satisfy me.”

Ooh, that sounded so exciting. A wanton thrill rippled through her, and her toes curled against the sheets.

“Show me,” she whispered. “Show me, before I die of wanting you.”