Vivian leaned her head back against the crimson brocade squabs and wondered if this was what her life would be like. While the black Padua silk-lined walls and soft bench seat were an improvement on the hired hacks she was used to riding in, at this moment she would have given up any convenience for some certainty. Some security.

James drew out yet another folder from his portmanteau, signaling that the next three hours would be spent in silence again.

Vivian snatched the folder from him, holding it up and out of reach. She did not, however, account for the fact that he was taller than she was and had longer arms. He easily reached past her, his hand covering hers on the file.

But she would not be defeated so easily. She dug her nails into the paper, refusing to let go.

“Vivian,” James said warningly, and if she weren’t so bloody frustrated she might have done the proper thing and released the file.

She didn’t. She gripped it harder, because if she were to do the proper thing, she wouldn’t be in this carriage as a new duchess. “All I want is for you to spend one hour of this trip actually conversing with me. Do you realize you haven’t said more than two words to me since you told me where we’re going? I swear to you, James, if you intend for the rest of our marriage to be passed in silent observation, I will go mad. Silence causes slow deaths, I am sure of it.”

“The last thing I would want is for you to die slowly,” he said dryly, dropping his hand from the file. He held his palm outstretched. “At least allow me to put the folder away properly.”

She considered this. He was a crafty man. If she handed him the file back, he’d probably move to the bench across from her and continue reading. So she lowered the file and slid it underneath her, sitting back down on it.

“Don’t think that’ll stop me from getting it.” His gaze swept from her to the file and back to her again, his lips curving into a slow smirk. “Especially since I’ve been aching to put my hands on your delectable rear since the first night I saw you.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks pinked again—maybe more than just her cheeks, for she felt warm in certain areas that had been unexplored until he’d kissed her. “So that kiss was not a chance occurrence?”

That wasn’t the question she’d meant to ask. She ducked her head, avoiding his eyes. It was so much harder to think properly when he looked at her.

He shifted on the seat, nudging her with his leg. “No. Do you really think I would have asked you to marry me if I wasn’t attracted to you?”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Marriage is like an equation. You and I are both variables.’” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, the full strength of her frustration on display. “How was I to know one of the variables is also your attraction?”

“I told you to never doubt that I wanted you.” His voice was coarse, like the late evening stubble on his chin.

He cupped his fingers underneath her chin, bringing her eyes up to meet his. The desire reflected back at her surprised her; he was a coiled beast, ready to strike if she gave him permission. And oh, how she wanted him to strike.

The sapphire ring on her finger glinted in the sunlight, reminding her who she was now. A duchess—his duchess. When he’d kissed her before, her fear over Sauveterre had quieted. She’d felt safe in his arms, and she wanted to feel that way again.

She started to reach forward, but stopped herself. What would his hair feel like without her gloves? Stripping off one glove and then the other, she felt his eyes upon her, tracing her movements hungrily. She ran her hand along the curve of his cravat, the starched linen stiff against her skin. He kept his hair shorter than the fashion. Up her fingers traveled, the black locks slipping through her fingers. He let out a groan of approval. The satisfaction on his face emboldened her. The rocking of the carriage had taken on a rhythm that heightened her, and she moved with it.

“You’ve said you didn’t want to talk about where we’re going.” The huskiness of her own voice surprised her. “But we have much time to pass...”

He pulled back from her, scooting further down the bench. “We shouldn’t.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Well, you could tell me how you managed to procure an unmarked carriage so readily. Or, you could tell me why your sister is on this trip with us. Or, you could tell me exactly where in Guildford we’re going. Or, you could tell me—”

James’s left eye started to twitch with her first question, increasing as she continued. He held up a hand to silence her, and she shut her mouth. But only because she’d run out of questions, not because he’d told her to.

“When I kissed you before, it was because all I’d been able to think about for the last two weeks was kissing you.” He made this sound as if it was a very bad thing, and she was hard-pressed to follow his reasoning. “My thoughts should be about keeping you away from danger, not about how bloody perfectly your lips fit mine, or how you manage to smell like my blasted garden and home all in one. I need to focus, Vivian. When I get distracted, bad things happen. People die.”

The intensity behind his words took her aback. How many near-death situations had he been in, exactly? She filed that as a query to make later, because the rest of his statement was infinitely more interesting.

“James,” she began, edging closer to him, the corner of her traveling habit brushing against his buff breeches. “I know I may not have given you the best impression of me, given that I ended up on your doorstep under...let’s say nefarious purposes, but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

“Never against a foe like this.” His jaw clenched, and his eyes found hers again, pain and sadness and longing, too. For her.

She nodded, hoping it conveyed as much as his mannerisms usually did. “That’s why I have you. Together, we’re a force to be reckoned with.”

James swallowed. “I can’t lose you. Not you too.”

Of course. How could she not have seen it? He’d already been through so much loss.

She came even closer, until she was almost sharing the same space with him, her leg so near to his. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I’m not going to die. Not with you here and certainly not with that brute of a coachman you seem to have dragged from a traveling act.”

That brought a small smile to his lips. “Nixon is a good man.”

“Good man or not, one look at him and Sauveterre will run for cover.”

“That was the idea.”

“I think you’ve accomplished that goal quite well, then.” Her hand drifted to his arm, her fingers running up and down his coat sleeve. “But we’re still alone in this carriage for a while.”

James watched her fingers track, his eyes darkening. He ran his tongue across his lips, those lips she wanted so badly on her own, stripping away her apprehension and leaving pleasure in their wake. “You make it very hard to say no to you.”

Vivian trailed her hand up further, tracing the curve of his ear. “So you’ve said. I believe you also called me impossible.”

“And aggressive,” he reminded her, leaning into her touch. “When we are together the first time—and we will be together, Vivian—I want it to be right. It should be you and me, no worries, no doubts.”

She dropped her hand, her meager attempts at seduction now seeming tawdry compared to the real connection he described. But he caught her fingers, intertwining them with his own, and he brought her hand to his lips to lay a sweet kiss upon her skin.

“I want that too,” she murmured. “A proper wedding night, if one can still call it that when it isn’t the night you marry.”

“So much about us is already unconventional. Who says we cannot defy the calendar too? Our wedding night can be whenever we please.”

“How rebellious,” she said. “I like it very much.”

When he released her hand, she went to make her way back to her side of the carriage, but he stopped her. In one quick movement, he’d dropped down to the floor of the carriage and knelt in front of her at eye level. “I’ll make you a promise.”

“Another one?”

He’d already promised to save her life, to cherish her, and to call her his wife forever. How much more could he give her?

He leaned in until they were almost nose-and-nose. “If you’re willing to follow my instructions exactly as I’m showing you how to fight, as well as teaching you other certain skills you might need to learn—”

She bristled at his demand for obedience, but she was intrigued enough to let him continue.

His expression became grave. “I’m serious. Complete focus. I can’t take the chance that something will happen to you.”

“Fine, I agree,” she said because he refused to continue until she did.

“Then I think we can explore whatever...this is.” He waved to the tiny space in between them. “Within reason, of course.”

“Kisses, then,” she put forth helpfully. “And some touching.”

His eyes settled on her breasts, covered by the thick fabric of her traveling habit. “A lot of touching. Because when I see you all I want to do is run my hands down every inch of your body.”

Her mouth suddenly felt quite dry indeed, but he seemed to be waiting for her to say something. For her to grant him permission. Damn his chivalry, for now she had to think of a suitably hoydenish remark. “I would not be opposed to a lot of touching.”

“Good.” Another nod, so quick this time she almost missed it, for then his lips were on hers, and the world was spinning.

He kissed her deliberately, thoroughly, as if he’d made it his objective to tear out any thought in her mind that wasn’t related to him. His lips crushed hers, demanding her obedience, but she gave it all back to him in a kiss that was neither gentle nor refined but was in itself an unstoppable act. She’d lacked control over almost every aspect of her life in these six months, and she lacked control in this kiss.

But his hands gripped her shoulders, anchored her, and suddenly the loss of control wasn’t a problem. She gave herself in to this, into the unruliness, swaying as the carriage moved.

She darted her tongue out, tasting the smooth plane of his lips. He opened to her, his own tongue thrusting forward to toy with hers. They tangled like this, an intricate dance she did not know the steps to beforehand, yet seemed to follow intrinsically. And through it all, the heat in her body rose, rose, rose in the tips of her breasts, in that private juncture between her thighs, but it was a welcome, wonderful warmth that made her feel safe. She was not alone. She had him.

He drew back from her, kissing her neck. His tongue dipped into the hollow of her ear, then behind her lobe. Tingles shot through her, first in her hands, then traveling through the rest of her body as he nipped at the bottom of her ear. She had never imagined such pleasure could be found in this. He kept at her, alternating between licking and nibbling, until she was panting with desire. Her head lolled back against him, exposing more of her neck.

“God, you are so beautiful,” he murmured against her throat, his nimble fingers undoing the top buttons of her dress to give him more access. Her collarbone was now bared to him, and he ran his fingers swiftly against her skin, leaving trails of fire wherever his fingers lingered.

“What next?” She barely managed the question before his hand slid forward, cupping her bosom.

Once, she’d seen him when he was bare-knuckle boxing with Lord Haley, and she’d watched as his fists inflicted pain. But now all they did was cause her bliss. He kneaded her breast, holding her and then caressing her in turn. Her nipples hardened to peaks under his touch, straining against the confines of her stays. The traveling habit that had seemed so loose this morning now felt too tight and far too hot. He switched to her other breast, giving her the same attention until her belly tightened with want and she thought of nothing else but his hands gripping her. His tanned skin against her traveling habit. The scars on the backs of his hand from too many fights.

“More,” she whispered, though she could not breathe without the smell of him, the feel of his presence. Still it was not enough.

“You are a flippant minx.” She felt his grin against her neck, heard the approval in his voice, though she could not see his face. Climbing up on the bench next to her, he leaned her forward. His fingers made hasty work of her buttons, despite the rollicking of the carriage.

She should have cared that her bosom was on display for him. She should have felt revealed. Yet when she glanced up at him, the heady desire streaked across his face made her feel...empowered. Delightfully wanton. She leaned back against him, helping him to shove the fabric down to her waist.

Somehow, he managed to turn her around, so that she now faced him. It was the quickest of movements, his deft precision reminding her of how smooth he’d been executing his defense maneuvers. He was a man who could keep her safe at all costs, a man who knew exactly how to go after what he wanted.

And what he wanted was her.

She wouldn’t question it. Wouldn’t breathe a word of denial that she was too plain, too wallflower, too anything but interesting enough for his attentions. Today she would pretend she had the confidence of a woman who could catch his eye. Today she would pretend she deserved everything he’d done for her so far, because God she wanted to believe she did. He saw a better version of her, and she wanted to be that person.

She wanted him.

“You’re killing me, woman,” he ground out, at the sight of the pink ribbon tied underneath her breasts, in the same shade as her garters. Judging from his reaction, Vivian no longer considered extravagant undergarments as a needless expense.

“It will be a wonderful death,” she found herself saying, as his fingers worked deftly at the knot.

“If I can but die with you naked before me, I’ll reconsider my stance on living long.” He plucked at the last knot, unfastening her stays. She sat before him now with her chemise and her stays spread wide, her gown pooled around her waist. He helped her remove the stays, tossing them aside.

Before she had time to protest, his hands were on her again, molding her breasts against his palms. If she had thought the contact before had been good, she’d not expected this. He teased and played with her, exerting pressure where she needed him most, until she was crying out from how good it all made her feel. He dived down, taking her breast into his hot mouth. As he tongued her, circling her nipple until the dusky peaks of her nipples were almost painfully stiff, she reevaluated her previous ideas on just how much bliss the human body could take. Because she was soaring, her mind hazy, all her senses overloaded with pleasure, and he didn’t seem intent on stopping.

Until the carriage hit a bump in the road, jostling them forward. Then the postchaise halted entirely. Nixon’s shouts echoed from outside.

A second later, there was a knock upon the door, and Arden’s voice echoed. “James, the wheel is stuck in a rut. You’re going to want to come and help Nixon push it out.”

“Damnation. Damnable, damned, damningly damnation.” The black look he sent the door alleviated some of her disappointment—for he was just as upset by this interruption as she was.

“James?” Arden called again.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” James cursed under his breath, fetching her stays. “This is not the way this is supposed to work, you know. Once these stays come off, they’re supposed to bloody remain off for at least a half hour, do you understand me? We should make this a rule from now on.”

She turned so he could lace her back up. “At least a half hour. Duly noted in the marriage charter.”

He chuckled, even as he scowled at having to do up the back of her dress again. “So we have a charter now?”

She leaned into his touch, unable to help herself. “Absolutely. I believe in order above all things.”

He brushed a kiss on her neck, then moved away, going to the carriage door. “Stay inside. This isn’t over.”

For once, she was only too happy to obey his command.