When the door closed, Lily suddenly felt her mouth go dry. There was no turning back now. For years, she had guarded the treasure she was about to bestow on her husband. When orphaned, she lost all her worldly possessions, much of her dignity, and all of her standing in proper society. Yet she had managed to save her virtue, clinging to it as the last vestige of control she had over her own future. After years of saying no, even to the man she had hoped to marry in New Orleans, Lily found it strange to be willing to give up this last bit of herself now.

Pulling her into his strong arms, he kissed her deeply before turning her around to start working on the buttons lining the back of her dress. His lips caressed her sensitive neck as he went about his task. Her dress pooled around her ankles in minutes, and he set about freeing her from her corset. One lace after another was slowly loosened, and he reached under her shift, managing to pull it up and over her head before she braced herself. Her arms crossed over her chest in embarrassment, but he pulled them away.

"Such perfect, pale skin," he marveled, feasting his eyes on her full breasts and rosy nipples. "I have imagined you bare before my eyes countless times in my lonely cabin. You are even lovelier than I had hoped."

He trailed soft butterfly kisses, beginning with her temple, then her ear, and began to work his way down her neck, turning her to face away from him. In the lantern light, he kissed the back of her neck, fisting his hands into her hair. His lips moved down her shoulder blades, turning her back to face him. Lily watched, mesmerized, as he held out her hands and began lightly kissing her fingertips.

She suddenly stiffened as he began moving his way upward toward her arm and tried to jerk away from him.

"Lillianna?" He was staring into her eyes now. "What is it?"

"I…" She gulped, hard, her eyes wide.

It was then that he saw it. The remains of a long, deep scar that trailed down the inside of her arm and just below her elbow. She tried again to pull away, but he held her fast.

"Sweetheart? Tell me. When did this happen? And how?"

She nodded, her eyes full of alarm. Still, she said nothing.

He took her arm and brought it closer to him. Starting at the top of the scar, he began kissing it softly and moving down gently, as if it was precious to him. "What happened to this precious little arm, Lillianna? Breathe deeply now. Tell me." As he spoke, he continued kissing downward.

Lily closed her eyes. "I was fourteen," she whispered. "I was trapped under a loom while I was working on it. I'm sorry it's so ugly—"

"Lillianna!" There was a deep sternness to his voice. "You will never say that about yourself again. Do you hear? It's the most beautiful little arm I've ever seen. Trust me. I never lie."

She met his eyes, her own growing wide. He thought she was beautiful, scar and all? His lips trailed down to where it stopped and then to the inside of her elbow and on up to her breast. "My gorgeous, gorgeous girl."

His words made Lily lightheaded and wetness began pooling between her legs without her consent. Self-conscious, she prayed her new husband wouldn't notice. Her hands dropped to shield her reaction. To her horror, he reached down with one hand, trapping both her wrists, and with the other, he brought his fingers down to touch her most intimate place. Holding his hand up, he studied the liquid on his fingers.

She stared at him, embarrassed. "I-I'll bathe before we go any farther," she offered, worried what he must be thinking of her.

"Shh, Lillianna," he whispered softly. With his free hand, he reached around her from behind and cupped her bottom, holding her in place before him. Lifting his fingers up to his face, he first inhaled her scent there. Then, to her bewilderment, his tongue slowly moved out to lick his fingers. Hungry warmth sent even more wetness between her legs, and Lily backed away slowly. Darby, as he instructed her to call him, mirrored her every move, staying only inches away. Soon, the back of her legs came in contact with the bedframe, and she gasped, unable to retreat any further.

He hovered over her, his fingers circling around her nipples, which seemed to have a mind of their own. They were pebbling at his touch, growing hard and sensitive as he toyed with the peaks. When he lowered his head to take one nipple inside his mouth, she feared her knees would give out. His mouth was so warm and glorious, she felt lightheaded. Had she known being intimate would be so pleasant, Lily feared she might not have guarded her virtue so adamantly.

Yet other men had never stirred such a strong, physical emotion in her before. Even Claude Picou, a man whom she had convinced herself she had been madly in love with, had never caused such wanton behavior in her.

"Lillianna?" His voice drew her back to him. "Are you with me, my darling?"

"Y-yes, Darby," she whispered.

"You are already wet and hot for me."

She looked guiltily up into the face above hers. "This pleases you, sir?" she asked, her voice strangely husky.

"It pleases me very much," he announced, helping her recline on the bed.

She started to scoot backward, but he brought his hands under her and lifted her, bringing her toward him. Keeping her bottom just at the edge of the bed, with her legs over the side, he knelt between them.

"Charlie?" she gasped. "I don't understand. I am fairly certain this is not—I mean—surely you have done this before? Aren't you meant to be on top of me, sir?"

Chuckling, he spread her legs wide and lifted them over his shoulders. She stiffened when his mouth settled just above her most private treasure. The warmth from his breath mingled with the liquid there, making her shiver.

"Trust me, sweetheart, I will be on top of you soon enough. Right now, relax and let me please you."

She gasped as his mouth touched her. "But—I thought it was my—oh! I had understood I was to please you, sir." He was tasting her nub, and she began to pant.

"And where did you hear such a thing?" he asked, glancing up at her from his vantage point. "Claude Picou, the bastard who tried to lure you across the ocean to strand you at his mercy? When we get to New Orleans, I will take great pleasure in slamming my fist in his face." His mouth lowered again, and Lily fell backward, her hands grasping the covering on the bed.

"No, it was—the ladies at the factory where I worked—t-talked—about the ways of things between a man and a woman." She was breathing hard. "From what I g-gathered, a woman is expected to—allow a man to—oh, my! A-and if she lies very still and does not distract him, he will finish his efforts and be pleased with her, f-for fulfilling her duty."

His dark eyes lifted as his tongue lashed across her sensitive area and a raised eyebrow seemed to mock her. When he stood up, he gave her a dark, hungry stare. "A true gentleman would never dream of finding his fulfillment until his lady is close to her own. Although, I must admit, looking at your gentle curves makes it hard for me not to do just that. But you, Lillianna, are precious to me, and I want you to be satisfied first."

She stared up at him. "You mean the tingling feeling that follows your lips on my breast and…down below? Trust me, sir, I-I'm enjoying both immensely." She shivered. "But I fear if you keep touching me so, I might not be able to stay still enough for you to find your release."

"It is my hope you will do more than just lie still when I claim you, my love."

He started removing his own clothes, and her eyes could not break away, even though she knew it was unladylike to stare. But she found she couldn't help herself. Her new husband was fit; his broad chest was hard, and muscles ran about his forearms and shoulders. His chest was covered in light hair which tapered downward and disappeared into his breeches.

Her eyes widened with alarm when he removed the rest of his clothes. "Oh, but—" She took a deep breath.

Darby's dark eyes bored into hers, waiting for her to finish. He moved over her, pinning her down with his brilliant stare.

"Surely, you're not planning—it's, umm—it's large, sir. Is it even possible for such a thing to fit?" She gasped suddenly, her voice sounding breathless. "You have done this before, sir? Did the other women survive?"

He found himself laughing. "I promise, sweetheart, you'll survive. However, you and I will never discuss other lovers we have taken to our beds. Those affairs are in the past. The future is ours and ours alone."

"Yes, but what I mean is—that's easy for you to say," she quipped, realizing her voice had risen several notes. She wondered at his reluctance to assure her it was possible without personal harm. Turning to lay across the bed, she stared up at the man she loved. He had proved his love for her often over the past few months. When a drunk sailor tried to seduce her, the commander had defended her honor. The captain would have likely tossed her overboard for the pranks she pulled on Arabella, but the man she found herself married to had taken her to task and wiped the slate clean of her offenses.

And most telling of all, when he found out that Claude Picou brought her from England under the pretense of marrying him when he really only intended to make her his mistress, Charles had saved her reputation by marrying her himself, making her his lady, and giving her his own name and protection.

Bracing herself, Lily closed her eyes tightly and set out to prove her own devotion to him. Spreading her legs slightly, she prepared to do her wifely duty. Perhaps, if she remained quite still, it wouldn't hurt so much. Hopefully, it would be over and done with before too long.

"I'm ready, sir."

"No, my love, but you will be soon enough." Lying beside her, his fingers started dancing below the soft curves shielding her channel. His mouth teased her breast, moving to the sensitive vein in her neck before claiming her lips.

The amount of liquid she felt between her legs alarmed Lily. If they ruined the sheets, would the inn owners insist they pay for the material? Darby had told her his funds were back in England. Would she bankrupt him before they even returned home?

"Lily, look at me. I want to see your eyes when I claim you the first time."

"I prefer to keep them shut, sir," she answered, hoping the haze of the pleasure he gave her would help steel her for the coming pain.

A smack landed on her bottom, and she cried out.

"Lillianna? Open your eyes immediately," he demanded.

"Tyrant," Lily muttered under her breath before complying.

"I love you, now and forever, my girl. But you will obey me." He was now on top of her and carefully reached down to guide himself to her heat. Her green eyes locked on him, and he noted the pain when he discovered a barrier he did not expect to encounter.

"Lily? You're a virgin?" he asked, frozen in place.

She blinked. "Of course, I am. What did you expect?"

He chuckled softly and leaned down to nip at her shoulder. "One never knows what to expect from you," he whispered. "Thank you for such a wonderful gift."

She raised her eyes, a darkened green now, to his. "Go on then?" she urged.

"A dictatorial little thing, aren't you? The only reason I'll let you get away with it this time is because you are still eager for me. I warn you, this will be painful the first time."

"But—" She looked up with fright. "You forget, sir. I've seen the length and girth of you. I expect it will be painful every time you claim your marital right. Luckily for you, I find I love you, too, Darby. Go ahead. Please?"

His invasion was swift, but once deep inside her, her husband gave her body a chance to adjust. After catching her breath, Lily was surprised. Somehow, he'd fit. "Sir, I know I am supposed to remain still, but I assumed you would have to—"

"Lillianna?" His tone was sharp. "I advise you to be quiet before I decide to gag you. I am trying to allow you a chance to recover."

"Recovering can—" She was silenced, suddenly, when his hand covered her mouth.

"Remind me to spank you when we finish," he demanded, sweat attesting to the amount of control he was exerting. He started to pull out, but before she could protest, he pushed back inside. The process repeated, faster and deeper with each thrust. Something deep inside of Lily awakened and she found herself tensing whenever her husband's member nudged against a certain spot deep within her.

Lying still made it difficult to increase the opportunity for her lover to rub against the delightful area, and Lily gave up her effort. "Brace yourself, sir. I don't think I can be still any longer. I'm sorry, but I…" Her words died when she managed to arch her back. The glorious pleasure she found had her lifting her hips to meet his, matching his pace and urging him to go faster.

She screamed his names, all of them, when the ripples of pleasure rolled through her body. He stiffened above her, her name on his own lips as he filled her with his seed. Neither paid attention when they heard the three sharp knocks upon the door, signaling the arrival of their dinner.

A soft growl in her ear was the last thing she remembered as Darby leaned forward. Six hard swats, in rapid succession, landed on her bottom. When she gasped and looked up with wide eyes, he raised an eyebrow. "I told you that would happen, young lady," he pronounced firmly. "And remind me to gag you the next time we decide to make love."

"Yes, sir," she whispered with a smile on her face, closing her eyes. "But—may I ask a question, before I stop chattering so?" He rolled his eyes, and she took his chuckle as an affirmation. "The wanton woman we saw earlier today said something about pleasing you with her mouth. When we kissed, did I please you?"

"Yes, but she was not referring to that kind of kissing, little one. Don't fret over the matter. A lady such as yourself does not need to worry about such things."

"But I do worry. I want to please you in every way possible. Please, show me?"

Groaning, he leaned over her, one massive elbow braced on the bed. "You won't let me sleep until we discuss this, will you?"

Grinning up at him, Lily could not help but think life was perfect at this very moment. She had married the most wonderful, understanding, honest man alive. However, when he explained where her mouth would settle if she wanted to please him as the wanton woman had suggested, she gasped.

"Really, Darby, if you did not want to tell me about such things, there is no need to lie."

"I will never, ever lie to you, and I do not appreciate you doubting me."

"But it barely fit down below. How could a person breathe if a man puts—Darby—I don't think I could ever consider doing such a thing."

"Tell me, little brat, how did it feel when I put my mouth on your most sensitive place?"

"But I didn't ask you to do it; you just sort of did it," she sputtered.

"You taste wonderful, by the by. I thoroughly enjoyed pleasing you with my mouth. Listening to you moan, feeling your legs tremble, smelling your excitement was erotic. Maybe one day, you will want to see what I taste like, how I react to such attention."

"You won't seek out wanton women to do so if I cannot bring myself to try?" Holding her breath, she feared his response.

"From this day forth, we please each other and no one else."

Relieved, she kissed his lips. "Thank you, Darby. You make me very happy."

He moved her to her side, holding her tightly, as he cocooned himself around her. With a nuzzling kiss to her temple, he leaned back, and they both fell into an exhausted sleep cradled in each other's arms.