Munro and Sarah followed Richards through the kitchens and left The Swan by way of the rear entrance. He thanked the landlord again for all his trouble.

“No trouble. Yon Addison’s got more money than God. If he wants to spend it here, well…”

Huddled together arm in arm, they walked briskly down Edgbaston Street. “What kind of a world is it,” he asked sadly, “when the prospect of sleeping in a proper bed knocks a lad off his feet? I dinna think he got as far as understanding what we said about Scotland.”

“The foreign land, you mean?” she quipped.

“Aye, I hope ye’re prepared to live among barbarians.”

“I canna wait,” she replied, imitating his brogue as she handed the key over to him. “My little domain is your home now, for a while anyway.”

He unlocked the door and carried her over the threshold, filling his lungs with the herbal aromas.

She laughed. “I do the same thing every time I come into the shop. It’s soothing.”

“Aye,” he agreed, “I’ll learn to tell one smell from another in time.”

He turned to face the stairs, but she wriggled to be put down. “They’re too steep.”

He set her on her feet. “As ye wish, my lady wife.”

She wandered into the shop itself, taking off her shawl. “We may not be here much longer.”

“Ye sound wistful about that, but what are ye nay telling me?”

“It will be hard to leave. I love what I do. But my place is in Scotland, with you—barbarians notwithstanding.”

He took off his cloak with a flourish. “And?”

“It was something Addison said. I get the feeling he’s searching for a buyer.”

He removed his hat and scratched his head. “The mon never ceases to amaze me. He certainly is grateful for yer defense of his son.”

“We’ll see. Now, husband, can I lead you to bed?”

His eyes widened. “Music to my ears.”

Love had loosened Sarah’s tongue. She’d become a flirtatious wanton. However, love wasn’t the only reason for the changes. Trust played the bigger part. She trusted Munro and knew he would never let her down. It was a stunning realization for a woman who’d been betrayed by everyone in whom she’d ever put her faith. She lifted the hem of her skirts and hurried up the stairs, Munro in hot pursuit.

He caught her at the top. His momentum carried them both to the bed where she collapsed onto her back, giggling like a child. He loomed over her on hands and knees, his eyes bright with desire. “Ye canna escape, Sarah Pendray.”

“I dinna wish to,” she replied, fighting to regain her breath.

They gazed at each other for long moments, before he loosened the ties of her coif and eased it off. “I love yer hair,” he breathed.

She reached up to run her fingers over the stubble on his face. “I love everything about you.”

Nostrils flaring, he slowly lowered his head to kiss her. Intoxicated by the taste of the rich, red wine from the goblet, she draped her arms around his neck and surrendered to the pure pleasure of moist, hungry lips. Their tongues mated playfully. The warmth of his skin heated her body.

He rained kisses the length of her neck, then brushed his lips across the swell of her breasts. “Let’s get rid of these clothes,” he rasped. “I want to see my wife.”

He backed off the bed, pulling her upright as he stood. She expected to be gathered into his arms, but he quickly shrugged off his tunic and waistcoat before yanking the shirt over his head. She gazed at his sculpted beauty, swaying until he put his hands on her upper arms and looked her in the eyes. “I intend to make love to ye, Sarah, but I’m nay a mon to take my pleasure and leave my wife wanting. I meant it when I vowed to worship ye with my body.”

She blinked away welling tears. He sensed without being told she’d known only degradation with Reginald. “I hope to prove worthy of your adoration,” she whispered, flattening her palms against his chest.

His growl echoed in her womb. “Ye will be. I just dinna want ye to fear intimacy with me.”

She cupped his face in her hands. “I long for it, Munro Pendray.”

Smiling, he slipped the straps of the red frock off her shoulders, but the tight bodice remained in place. He smoothed his hands over her breasts, looking puzzled. “I’m nay an expert with ladies’ garments.”

It was unlikely he appreciated the reassurance his words provided. He was no philanderer. The brush of his thumbs over her nipples bolstered her courage. “You can watch me undress, if you wish.”

His eyes darkened, but he made no reply as he sat on the edge of the bed, his long fingers curled into the mattress.

She thought to begin with her boots. However, she normally sat on the bed to complete the task. That wouldn’t work. Neither would the chair. She hopped about on one foot, trying to look sophisticated as she unbuckled the strap.

A grin tugged at the corners of Munro’s mouth.

“I’m not good at this,” she admitted, feeling dizzy.

He patted the bed. “Let me help.”

He came to his knees on the planked floor as she sat and lifted one foot.

She’d never considered shoe removal a sensuous act, but it quickly became arousing as Munro lingered over unfastening the straps and slowly slipping off each boot. She groaned with pleasure when he kneaded his thumbs into the soles of her feet.

“Shall I help ye with the hose?” he offered, his hands already halfway up her thighs.

The muscles in a very private place pulsed of their own accord as he rolled the garters down her legs, then the stockings. When he kissed her toes, she whimpered and reached for his broad shoulders.

But he shook his head and sat back on the bed. “Ye promised I could watch.”

Her heart sang at the prospect of a future with a man who liked to tease. Was she brave enough to tease him back?

She stood, reached for the hem of her frock, and slowly peeled it up her legs, over her hips, and past her waist, then paused. He couldn’t fail to notice the effect crossing her arms had wrought on her breasts. “The bodice is too tight,” she lamented, fluttering her eyelashes in what she hoped was a provocative manner.

The arch of his eyebrows indicated he knew she was toying with him, but he came to the rescue, easing the fabric bit by bit over her breasts and lifting it over her head. “Temptress,” he whispered, swirling his tongue over a nipple straining against the linen smock.

She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling the sensations rippling through her body as she plucked up courage to remove the smock.

Suddenly, her arms were in the air and the garment was in Munro’s hands. “Oh,” she exclaimed, struggling not to give in to the urgent need to cover her nakedness. She prayed the bruises had faded, that he didn’t find her too fat, or too thin, or…

“Ye’re more beautiful even than I imagined,” he rasped, taking her into his embrace, “but ye’re shivering.”

“From the cold,” she replied, melting with relief.

“I have just the thing to warm ye,” he said, holding her hand to his arousal.

She moved her fingers on him, but he lifted her onto the bed. “All in good time,” he whispered. “First, I want to taste ye.”

Munro toyed with the notion of removing his trouzes, but the garment was the last obstacle remaining between his rampant shaft and Sarah’s warm sheath. He intended to give them both as much pleasure as possible before his tarse had its way.

He raked his eyes over her perfection, marred only by faint traces of bruising on her arms and legs. They were hallmarks of her will to survive unbroken and he thanked God for saving her from Reginald North’s brutality. However, he would never mention the man nor remind Sarah of him in any way, especially in her bridal bed. He prayed he would be equal to the task of erasing all memory of her first marriage this night.

She frowned when he put his arms around her calves and pulled her to the edge of the mattress.

“We’ll do naught ye dinna wish to,” he promised as he knelt, hoping his aching shaft was paying attention now he had set eyes on the pink folds of Sarah’s most intimate place. Earlier, he’d risked mentioning his thirst to taste her. She’d seemed titivated by the prospect, so he persevered, parting her nether lips with his thumbs before bending his head to suckle.

Her honeyed juices filled his senses. The whimpering sounds that emerged from her throat echoed in his sac. He flicked his tongue over the swelling bud, contentedly certain she was nearing a pinnacle as the mewling became more frenzied.

He tightened his hold on her legs when she screamed loud and long, arching off the bed, the linens clutched in her fisted hands. Watching her savor the euphoria of her release nigh on brought him to tears. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Sarah slowly drifted back to earth and opened her eyes. Munro had lifted her to previously unknown heights of ecstasy, but there was yet something she craved. “Fill me,” she whispered, awed by the love in his gaze—and the thickness of the proud lance jutting from his body. He’d evidently removed his trews while she’d been soaring and now knelt between her legs.

“I screamed,” she murmured.

“Aye,” he said with a smile, “I loved it.” He lifted her hips. “Put yer legs around me. I want to bury myself deep inside ye. Ready?”

Bracing for pain, she nodded as he positioned the swollen tip of his manhood at her opening. However, she wasn’t prepared for the exquisite sensations as he slowly penetrated, then withdrew, then went deeper. “Munro,” she breathed as every slow thrust carried her closer and closer to another crescendo.

His body heated. They fell into a faster rhythm, matching each other stroke for stroke, growl for growl. She recognized the signs of an impending male release. She’d gritted her teeth and waited for it often enough. Now, she and Munro were locked in a journey to ecstatic release that would bond them forever.

“Come with me,” he exclaimed, as his seed erupted from his body. She teetered on the edge of something monumental. She was falling…falling, but he held her fast as she tumbled.