Up, up, up the grand staircase with my gown trailing down. Ren carried me as if I weighed nothing. I let him without putting up a fight. I was weak. It was exciting to be in the arms of a strong, virile man. So much more than I'd expected of this night. His beauty and wild spirit enticed me. I desired him against all reason and sanity. He knew how to seduce a woman, and I wanted to be seduced. If nothing else, I would have the wedding night of my fantasies.

The lights in the hallway were dimmed, as I'd previously instructed, hoping to set a romantic mood for Manly, and all the sconce candles replaced and lit. The candles were scented with the highest-quality, truest vanilla, cinnamon, and orange, scents that turn men on. I hadn't missed a trick. Setting the stage for our charade was the most fun I'd had with the wedding.

The candlelight flickered, casting odd shadows against the ancient stone. It was easy to get caught up in the romance of the place. To feel the heat and passion of a thousand romances kindled and lived out here. To imagine a duke of old carrying his bride to his bed as Ren carried me now.

I explored him, tracing my hands over his strong jaw, over his cheeks. I touched his lips with a feather-light touch. Ran my fingers through his hair. I wasn't leaving him in any doubt of my willingness. If this was nothing more than a hookup, then so be it. In another life, I might have been given time to fall in love with him. In this life, that opportunity was surely ruined. I leaned my head against the side of his. I kissed his forehead, then his cheek.

He didn't ask where to take me. I assumed we were going to his room. I was wrong. He took me to the master suite that I was to have shared with Manly. The door was open. He closed it behind us with his shoulder. I helped it closed with my foot.

Everything about the room was exactly as I'd requested when I thought I'd be sharing it with Manly. Scented candles lit on every surface, this time with a hint of licorice, basil, and lily of the valley added to the mix. I had left no erotic scent unturned, except for maybe popcorn. I had to draw the line somewhere. Even my perfume was a special blend I'd had created by a French perfumery for this night. At least one of these aromas was guaranteed to increase Ren's arousal. I was a very thorough fake seductress. The fantasy and the glimpse at feeling young was to be part of my gift to Manly.

The fireplace was blazing. The bed turned down. A crystal bowl of chocolates next to the bed. The nightstand full of male enhancement products and exotic oils.

The room was expansive. Everything was oversized, right down to the carved four-poster bed and the gigantic mirror opposite it hanging above the fireplace. Someone from the past had liked to see what they were doing in bed.

In a castle this old, there were ghosts and echoes from the past. Ren and I had our own ghosts to deal with, our own shadows. Manly was a specter between us. This was certainly no way to begin a marriage, but it was what we had. The fireplace cast shadows on the stone walls. Now that the castle was mine, I would modernize some of these rooms. Any room I lived in. But for now, I had to live in a room from the past.

Ren set me on my feet suddenly and tossed off his jacket and shoes. We faced each other, two proud people who didn't entirely trust each other but desired each other madly, sizing each other up. How would this be? How would we play this? Tender and slow? Rough and fast? I swore my breast was heaving. My corset felt too tight.

He reached out, grabbing me by the waist and spinning me until my back faced him. His arms circled my waist. "Your waist is tiny." He sounded impressed.

"Your hands are large," I said. "You know what that indicates. I hope I'm not disappointed."

He pulled me close and whispered in my ear, "I haven't disappointed yet." He lifted the hair from my neck and nibbled the delicate skin at my nape until I trembled with pleasure and anticipation.

I tipped my head back against his shoulder and closed my eyes, forgetting for the moment a man I barely knew was my husband, pretending instead he was the man I'd always dreamed of. And maybe he was. My taste in men had never been good.

His lips traveled over the slope of my shoulder and back across the top of my back as he reached for the buttons on the back of my dress. He paused for a moment, perplexed, I imagined, by the row of tiny buttons. Did I dare tease him?

Before I could speak, he showed his experience and found the concealed zipper. He had it down and was gently pushing my dress off my shoulders, kissing every patch of bare skin he revealed until he was stymied by my corset.

Off my shoulders, over my hips, until my dress fell into a pool on the floor and Ren had my hips in his hands. "Damn this bloody corset," he whispered in my ear.

"Most men think they're hot."

He spun me around until I faced him and the fireplace behind him. "I'm not most men. Corsets are hot when I'm in the mood to be teased, not when they're impeding my progress." His face was in shadow. His voice was deep with desire.

I reached for the buttons of his shirt. Unlike him, I didn't take my time. I wanted to see him, and I wasn't disappointed. His chest was hard and sculpted. His arms divinely muscled. He was every bit as well crafted as I'd imagined. I reached for his pants.

He grabbed my wrists. "Not so fast." With the knowledge of a skilled lover, he grabbed me by the waist, pulled me to him, and unzipped the front of my corset, sliding it from me, totally unfazed by the laces in the back. His gaze was riveted on my breasts and taut, pointed nipples.

I would have liked to pretend they budded from the cold, but the heat from the fire took away any excuse I might have made.

He took my breasts in his hands and bent to kiss them, hefting them, tugging on my nipples until I moaned. I wore nothing more now than my jewelry, my lace thong panties, and my sheer thigh-high hose, with the garter Ren hadn't tossed still on my right leg.

He shed his pants himself now that they were just another impediment, pulling off his underwear and socks, too. I sucked in my breath and my lips. He didn't disappoint there either. He was absolutely perfect, from the V that pointed to his groin all the way to his erect dick.

We stared at each other, breathing hard, and we'd barely begun. It was a delicate dance with each of us vying for the lead. Who would make the next move? And would it be good enough?

Everything rode on this first sexual encounter. Was the chemistry between us as electric as we thought? Or was it an illusion? If the sex was average or downright terrible, would this all be a bad joke? And if it lived up to the promise of the heat between us, what then? Did we walk away or hump like rabbits in heat for a year?

Ren went down on one knee in front of me. His dark hair glistened in the firelight as he bowed and slid the garter down my leg. He caressed me until I trembled and ached for him to be inside as he slid the garter off and tossed it aside. He took my leg in his hand, kissing my shin, my knee, trailing kisses up my thigh, stopping just short of the triangle of my thong.

He looked up at me with his dark eyes filled with desire. My breath caught. I realized again just how much this marriage had cost me. This desire was unearthly, the kind of passion that could spark something masterful and eternal. If only we hadn't been forced together.

He slid my thong off and got to his feet, taking my face between his hands and guiding my mouth to his. I closed my eyes again and let him kiss me. I closed my eyes and pretended this desperate passion was something more. He teased my lips with his tongue. I grazed his lips with my teeth. His tongue darted into my mouth. I pressed my bare breasts against his hard chest and reveled in the feel of his perfect body, touching the tip of my tongue to his.

He slid one arm around me and crushed me to him, sliding his dick between my legs as he backed me toward the bed, kissing me so expertly that I lost track of time and myself until the backs of my legs bumped against the bench at the foot of the bed. I thought for a moment he might take me right on that upholstered bench. Instead, he cupped my butt and lifted me up until I wrapped my legs around his waist. He didn't break the kiss as he carried me to the side of the bed, laid me on it, and straddled me. Only then did he pull his mouth away.

I opened my eyes to find him braced over me. "Are you going to tease me forever?"

He grinned. "Not forever. Maybe all night."

I glanced at his erection. "You have the staying power for that?"

"The staying power, but not the willpower." He thrust into me suddenly.

I gasped as he filled me and pulled his face to mine, kissing him again. I needed the intimacy of his kiss, needed not to feel separate from him. Needed him not to see my need. I thrust my hips up to meet him and wrapped my legs around his back. We found our rhythm, and he found the right angle to give me the most pleasure. He was a skilled lover. He read me well, rewarding each moan and contented sigh with another beautiful, perfect thrust. For my part, I squeezed him tight and released. I read him just as well, matching each pleasurable thing he did to me with one that elicited a groan from him.

They say sex is mostly mental, and maybe that's true, but I was swept away by the sheer physicality of being with Ren. With each thrust, the waves of pleasure built. With each thrust, a little of the horror of the day washed away. With every move he made, I was more lost in him. It was beautiful, and I was selfish. I didn't want to crest and finish. I wanted this beautiful distraction to go on until I forgot everything else, including myself.

But Ren was determined to foil my plans. He thrust harder and deeper until, finally, I couldn't hold back any longer. When my climax came, it came and came and came. My breath caught. I gasped and rode the waves, rocking against him selfishly. Ren's matching grunt of pleasure brought me back to reality. I moved with him until he was spent.

When the waves of pleasure finally subsided, we looked at each other, stunned. No man had ever rocked me like that. I wanted to hide my astonishment, but I was afraid it was written on my face. I looked up at him with wonder, but his expression was dark. He was almost scowling. And yet there was no doubt he'd climaxed every bit as forcefully as I had.

He rolled off me and lay next to me with his arm over his forehead. He was breathing heavily, but not winded. Neither of us spoke. I assumed his thoughts were too dark for words. I liked to cuddle after sex, but it was clear from his apparent displeasure that wasn't a wise idea. Instead, I lay still, waiting until he closed his eyes and his breathing slowed.

Damn him. He wasn't going to fall asleep on me, no matter how hard he'd worked. Men and their spent hormones. He could damn well be displeased. He was the one who'd wanted sex. This was my wedding night, and I was going to have round two.

I waited until he was completely relaxed and falling into the pleasant afterglow of sleep before I grazed his dick with my fingers. At my touch, it sprang to life. Impressive. I wasted no time giving him a furious hand job as I climbed on top of him. He wasn't hard to arouse, and I really didn't care about giving him any kind of completion this time. I sat on him with my back to his face, facing the mirror that was slanted down to give a view of the bed. Wanting to insult him. Wanted it to be impersonal. Wanting to turn my back on him.

My hair fell down over my breasts in golden waves highlighted by firelight. The gems at my neck glistened. My skin was slick and shiny with the exertion and heat of our first round. I slid him into me, riding him reverse cowboy, grinding on him only to please myself. This time, I refused to see any displeasure on his face. This time, I would do the work, ride him, use him, and, when it was over, fall asleep facing away from him.

As I moved on him, I saw only myself, the place where he entered me, and his strong legs in front of me. He could have been anyone. He could have been the man my girlish self had fantasized about. He could have loved me beyond reason. This could have been a real relationship, a real marriage.

My wedding dress was a white pool on the floor, reminding me of a flicker of white sleeves in the wind. White lady, are you satisfied now? You got what you wanted. My kindly groom is dead. The man I lust after is disappointed with the part of me I gave him.

The fire crackled and heat washed over me, but it was an entirely different kind of flame that fueled me. I watched myself ride him for a moment, closed my eyes, and threw my head back so that my hair fell down my back. I was no different than a dozen or more medieval maids who'd bedded their lords in this room over the centuries—inconsequential, a means to an end. I rode him hard and fast, and slow and long, with whatever rhythm felt good in the moment. I lost myself in my own fantasies. Shining knights. Did those ever exist?

I rode him until I was on the edge of the orgasm of my life, one that threatened to dwarf the first one. I was so lost that the pair of hot hands that grabbed my hips startled me, and I almost fought the sudden thrusting of his hips. I wasn't alone in this after all.

His hands held me in place as if he sensed I might bolt. I gasped as he thrust into me with wicked force and felt his abs flex beneath me. If only he knew I was too far gone to fight him. I moved with him, losing myself again to the sensations as the climax built. When I finally toppled over the edge into ecstasy, I screamed like a wild animal, letting all my pent-up frustration and completion out.

I was done, but he wasn't. My scream only seemed to turn him on. Though I tried to scramble off, he held me firmly in place firmly and thrust once more, forcefully enough to make me gasp again and my climax hang on.

He grunted and stiffened beneath me, pressing me onto him. I opened my eyes, watching us in the mirror, seeing his hands at my hips and his legs taut. His climax went on and on. When he finally relaxed and released me, I slid off him and turned my back to him. Without speaking, I pulled the covers up over me and buried my head in my pillow as he pulled me against his chest and threw his arm over me as if I belonged to him.

I didn't care what he felt. Or maybe I did and just couldn't bear to see it.