C hastity tamped down her rising panic. She was married. Not just married. Married to a very handsome, very intelligent man. A dangerous man. A man who could make her lose her sanity. He would take her body, and eventually her soul. That, she’d sworn after eloping with Lord Everston, would never happen again. Love was well and good, but losing oneself wasn’t. Since she had no intention of giving all of herself to a man, she’d seen no reason to marry.

But this man would take all she had, then demand more. The look in his eyes confirmed her thoughts. Only an hour ago, he’d nearly killed her—killed them both. Yet he stared at her boldly, demanding that she give what he wanted and take what he offered: pleasure.

He startled her by moving to the seat beside her.

“Use some sense,” she said. “We are not in your private bedchamber. This is a public coach.”

“This is a private carriage, if I am not mistaken. That aside, being in a public coach did not hinder you last night.”

“It should have,” she muttered, and the rogue laughed.

“On the contrary, my lady, it is good for you.” Before she could argue, he dragged her across his lap. “Let me demonstrate.”

He crushed her to him and kissed her so soundly that she wondered if she’d ever truly been kissed before. Chastity found herself back against the cushion, him half on top of her, his wicked hand tugging down her bodice, then cupping her breast. His tongue gently—but insistent—slipped past her lips and he thrust in and out in a fashion that heated her and made her head spin.

The hard ridge that pressed against her abdomen caught her attention and she half feared—and half hoped—he would demand his husbandly rights that very instant. She started when he laid his palm on her leg. Warmth seeped through the cold, wet fabric of her dress to her skin. She shivered as much from his touch as the thought that he might stroke her as he had last night. Merciful heaven, the man was a warlock. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and lay more heavily on her, pressing her deeper into the cushion. He gave a low laugh and she realized he’d read her mind. It was just as she feared: he would quickly own her.

“You tempt me, Lady Chastity,” he whispered.

Her mind muddled. What did he mean?

“Ask for anything, and it’s yours.”

What was he talking about? She didn’t understand. But she did understand that he was tugging the hem of her dress upward.

“I swear to make you happy,” he said.

He grasped her hand and drew it to him. Her palm covered his erection.

“Sir,” she cried, and tried to yank her hand free.

“Nae, Chastity. We are married. You need not fear that this is wrong.”

Wrong? It felt oddly right. But the feelings flooded her and she couldn’t make sense of anything. He abruptly sat up and pulled her across his lap again. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I cannot tumble you like a common tavern wench—especially on our wedding day.”

“You already did,” she said.

He gave a strangled laugh. “Not quite, love, but I came damned close.”

“It’s what you threatened to do,” she said.

“By God,” he exclaimed. “You make it sound as though that’s what you want.”

Chastity flushed. He was right—and she felt like a tavern wench.

He muttered something under his breath, then slid her from his lap. He stripped off his coat and had his falls unbuttoned in an instant. His erection sprang free and Chastity swallowed.

Sir Stirling laid her back on the cushion and pulled her dress up to her waist. He lowered himself onto her and she expected him to immediately drive his cock into her. Instead, he levered up onto his elbows and kissed her. Chastity grasped his forearms. Muscles strained beneath her fingers. His kiss remained gentle as he eased her legs apart. The carriage bounced over ruts and his manhood bumped her stomach. He drew in a sharp breath, then eased her bottom closer to the edge of the cushion. She realized he had braced one knee on the floor.

He probed her opening with the head of his rod as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue. Chastity released a breath—then tensed when he suddenly thrust inside her, hilt deep.

He stilled, his breathing ragged. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There hadn’t been any pain as she expected, but he felt strange and impossibly large inside her.

“Chastity.”

She jarred. “What?”

He lifted higher on his elbows and looked down on her. “You didn’t tell me you were a virgin.”

She became aware of the clop of the horses as the coach picked up pace. She sighed. The mood was ruined. “Wouldn’t it be more logical that I would have told you if I wasn’t a virgin?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t lie to me, in hopes of discouraging me,” he said.

“Lord, I didn’t think of it. But I doubt it would have worked. I would have tried, though.”

He laughed. Then he stopped laughing and began to move inside her. The mood, she realized with a gasp, wasn’t so ruined after all. Chastity couldn’t believe the sweet sensations that rippled through her. He moved slowly, which seemed to her some sort of torture. The carriage jolted and it felt as if he’d speared her very womb. Pleasure spiked. He groaned and moved faster.

“Goodness,” she breathed.

“Relax, love, and let me please you.”

How much more could he please her? She felt ready to burst.

“Do you like this?” He thrust deep.

She drew a sharp breath.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He thrust deep again and increased his speed.

Her head began to whirl. Sir Stirling rolled onto the seat, keeping her joined with him, then scooted so that she lay on top of him. Chastity froze.

“Sit up,” he said.

“What?”

“Sit up.”

He gently pushed her into a sitting position. His cock almost slipped out, but he reached between them and held himself steady as she repositioned herself. Embarrassment washed over her when they made eye contact.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he said. “Move up and down on me as it pleases you.”

She yanked her eyes to his face. “That is-is indecent.”

He gave a hoarse laugh. “Not by half, love.” He grasped her bottom and gently lifted her. Chastity quickly braced her palms on his chest. He lowered her, then lifted her again. After a few strokes she was startled by the pleasant friction between them.

“Find the position that best suits you,” he whispered.

She leaned forward slightly and after three strokes had to admit the sensations were amazing. He lifted and brought her down on him faster and harder. His breath came harder. The sounds made her stomach clench. She recognized the oncoming orgasm, but couldn’t believe the feelings originating deep inside.

Pleasure swept through her. She cried out and dropped her head onto his chest as he arched his hips, stroking, driving deeper inside her as the orgasm rolled over her with more intensity. His fingers tightened on her buttocks and he groaned as he slowed his strokes, once, twice, then a third and fourth time before he relaxed.

Chastity went limp. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair. She felt oddly content and wondered if he felt any of the same. At last, he slowly slipped out of her and she relaxed on top of him. She released a breath, her body strangely weary and sated. Unexpectedly, she recalled his words to her father. "I can deal with Dorring. There is no need to worry the lass." He’d defended and even protected her against her father’s ire. Her father was a good man, and would never truly hurt her. Still, no one other than her father had ever protected her against anyone or anything. Knowing she’d tricked him, he’d put himself between her and her father and he hadn’t demonstrated any rancor toward her for playing him false. Why had he done that?

His arms tightened around her. “I promise, next time will be better,” he said, and her mind said, Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.