Standing together in the hall, Matthew and Priscilla were all smiles and chuckles as they said goodbye to their guests. Her aunt and uncle were the last to leave.

“Now, if you need any help with the household management you know where to come,” her aunt said in earnest.

Matthew almost snorted. The Callans were the last people to offer advice on handling one’s affairs.

“I’m sure I shall need your help with many things.” Priscilla clutched her aunt’s hands. “Once I’ve settled in here I shall be sure to call round.”

A frisson of guilt flashed through him. Despite knowing of her family’s failures, his wife showed nothing but kindness and respect to her kin.

“When you’re settled we might go shopping.” Aunt Elizabeth’s comment surprised him. Perhaps the woman knew nothing of her husband’s financial predicament.

“Shopping?” Lord Callan tutted. “Ladies and their fripperies.”

A smile lit up her aunt’s face. “Perhaps we might treat ourselves to new perfume from Floris.”

“That would be wonderful,” Priscilla replied although he noted the lack of enthusiasm in her tone.

“Well, Chandler,” Lord Callan said tugging at his collar as though struggling for air. “We’d best be off. No doubt my solicitor will be in touch in the next few days.”

No doubt? Damn right he would be. “I shall look forward to the event.”

Once left alone, an uncomfortable silence ensued. Despite outward appearances, Matthew doubted the transformation from bachelor to husband would be without its problems.

What the hell did a man do with a wife, other than the obvious?

Priscilla shuffled from one foot to the other, twiddled her fingers and sighed. “Well, now would be a good time to give me a tour of the house. Hopkins arranged for the footmen to take my luggage upstairs, so it remains for you to point me toward my bedchamber. Perhaps it would ease the tension if we got the preliminaries over with.”

Her nervous ramblings caused guilt to flare. Regardless of the promises made, he was unaccustomed to pleasing anyone but himself. Nevertheless, he wanted to make her happy. It seemed like a fair exchange. What sort of man would he be to take a lady's money and give nothing in return? But where the blazes was he to start?

His skill with women lay in one specific area.

“Preliminaries?” He cast a mischievous grin though doubted she meant the claiming of her body. “Are you so eager to get the deed done? If you’re referring to the business of marriage, then I would rather savour the moment not rush.”

The apples of her cheeks flamed. “I … I was referring to the mundane tasks of settling in.”

“You’ll soon come to know that I’m uncomfortable with all mundane aspects of life.” He moistened his lips. “I refuse to temper my wild imagination and hope there will be nothing ordinary about settling in.”

“It … it appears we are having different conversations.”

“Once we begin, I’m sure we’ll be singing the same tune.” Damn. For a man who’d spent years avoiding marriage, he sounded desperate to consummate their union. Then again, since the night he’d promised to wed her, he’d not looked at another woman, let alone satisfied his carnal needs.

“Did you mind me inviting Herbert to dinner?” She bit down on her bottom lip. The abrupt change of subject was perhaps a way of settling her nerves. “It is obvious he admires you greatly, and it would give us an opportunity to become better acquainted.”

“There has never been a need to invite him before as we meet each week at Boodle’s.” Herbert Chandler never sat in judgement. He never spoke of the past. In that regard, he was an ideal companion. One could only hope Priscilla did not feel the need to pry into their family history. “But perhaps we should wait until we’re more at ease with one another.”

“Do you find me too presumptuous?” Two thin lines appeared between her brows. “Here we are married for little over an hour, and already I am organising your diary.”

“Had I any objection, I would have said so.”

They stared at one another. Neither knew what the hell to do or say next. Damn it all. Marriage proved to be harder than he’d imagined.

“Come, let me show you to your bedchamber.” He gestured to the stairs. “You can wash and change before dinner.” And he needed time alone to decide how best to proceed.

Priscilla touched her stomach. “After such a wonderful wedding banquet I doubt I’ll have room to eat again today.”

“Then we must find a way to work up an appetite.” The comment roused the memory of their heated kisses in the carriage. Judging by the slight tremble of her chin, she understood his meaning perfectly.

“Will we be sleeping together?” She struggled to hold his gaze.

Was it a trick question? “Excuse me?”

“Are we to share a chamber or will we have separate rooms?”

“I thought separate rooms would be best.” A man needed the freedom to strut around naked. And having experienced many illicit liaisons, one woman’s body looked much the same as another. It was the intimacy of seeing her wash and brush out her hair that threatened to destroy his equilibrium. “We will both want privacy.”

Rather than her tight shoulders sagging with relief, she narrowed her gaze. The look suggested he had made a grave error. How odd.

“I understand.” She nodded. “You do not want to make excuses to be alone. But you should know that I will not make demands on your time. I am not a woman who moans or mithers. I am not a leech intent on sucking you dry.”

Bloody hell!

Did the lady not understand that certain phrases forced a man to think wicked thoughts? He considered her full pink lips, imagined threading his fingers through her hair as she knelt before him.

Eager to experience the fantasy, his cock swelled and pushed against the fall of his breeches. Matthew swallowed hard. Damn. He could not take his bride in the middle of the afternoon. It suggested an element of desperation, suggested he lacked control.

“No doubt we will have cause to reassess the living arrangements as problems arise.” To tell her they might sleep together at night would only give false hope. Besides, most married couples slept separately. “Nothing is set in stone. For now, I suggest we continue as planned.”

“Then lead the way,” she said with an air of resignation.

Matthew gave a curt bow and motioned to the stairs. “After you.”

He followed behind, observed the gentle sway of curvaceous hips, pictured the same scene minus the clothes.

Coming to a halt on the landing, she waited for his direction.

“Your bedchamber overlooks the garden.” He walked to a room further along the corridor, opened the door and stepped back for her to enter. “It’s generally quieter unless I’m hosting an event. Hopefully, no one will disturb you.”

With some hesitation she stepped inside, twirled around to scan the decor, stroked the dusky-pink bed hangings as her wide eyes focused on the large four-poster bed.

Matthew cleared his throat. “I’d suggest ordering new soft furnishings, but until I’ve repaid the vowel, it is best to be prudent.”

“These will be perfectly fine. Where do you sleep?”

“The master suite is next door. You can access my chamber via the connecting door in the dressing room though I took the liberty of locking it. The key is on the night table next to your bed. That way there is no fear of waking at night to find a stranger lurking in the shadows.”

Priscilla arched a brow. “You’re my husband, Matthew, not a stranger.” She wandered over to the window. “Do the guests realise you can see behind the topiary hedge from up here?”

“When in the throes of passion, I doubt they give the matter much thought. Why? Do you intend to snoop on their amorous activities?” The notion of her experiencing pleasure at the sinful sight aroused him further.

“A lady must do what she can to further her knowledge.”

The minx was teasing him. “Have no fear. I shall give you all the tutoring you need. Trust me you’ll never have cause to look elsewhere.”

Averting her gaze, she touched the burgundy drapes, unhooked the sash and drew the curtains.

Once plunged into semi-darkness, all thoughts turned to seduction. After all, she was his wife. Duty demanded he bed her. Indeed, his cock ached to burst free, to push inside and experience the true depth of innocence.

“And what are your plans for the evening?” Confidence infused her tone which was surprising when one considered the intense pulse of desire radiating through the room. “Am I to come to your chamber?”

“No. I will come to you.” It was easier that way. He could leave, sneak out as soon as she fell asleep. It would save any awkward conversations.

“Then you do intend to lie with me tonight?”

“Of course.” He sounded far too eager. “Our alliance must be legally binding.”

“I see.” With deft fingers, she pulled the pins from her hair. Golden curls fell free to drape over her shoulders and slide seductively down her back.

“What are you doing?” Good Lord. For the first time in his life, his heart fluttered in his chest.

“I see little point in waiting,” she said, placing the pins on the dressing table. “If it is to be an exercise simply to satisfy legalities then I would rather get it over with.”

Bloody hell. He scratched his head. “Priscilla—”

“Help me out of this gown.”

Matthew stood dumbstruck while Priscilla fiddled with the tiny pearl buttons.

Things were not going to plan.

To begin with, he wanted to bed his wife. Not for the pathetic reason he’d given but because he found her attractive. The lady was a constant source of amazement. At their first meeting in the Holbrooks’ garden, he’d believed her to be timid, shy, easily persuaded.

How wrong could a man be?

Priscilla stepped out of her slippers and placed her foot on the stool. With delicate fingers she rolled her silk stocking down slowly over her knee, over a slim calf and trim ankle. From the sensual curve of her mouth, she must have gleaned some pleasure from the feel of the fabric gliding over her skin. Liquid fire pumped through his veins.

Heaven help him, he’d married a temptress.

“Allow me,” he said hoarsely when she raised her leg to remove the other stocking.

Priscilla caught his gaze, stopped her ministrations by way of silent permission. “Then lock the door.”

Matthew did not need to be told twice.

After granting her wish, he closed the gap between them with some haste. He knelt down, placed her foot on his knee and slid his hand under her gown, up to her thigh.

The nerves in the tips of his fingers tingled as he tugged the delicate ribbon garter holding the stocking in place. The temptation to touch her more intimately took hold. With the pad of his thumb, he brushed the smooth skin above the top of her hosiery.

Priscilla gasped but did not pull away.

Matthew suppressed the grin threatening to form. Witnessing the arrogance of a seasoned seducer would only frighten her away. He captured her gaze, revelled in the sudden flash of desire he saw there when his hand edged higher.

“You’re supposed to be removing my stocking,” she said, the pitch of her voice strained.

Good. She wanted him.

“You cannot expect me to touch you and not give in to temptation.” Nimble fingers crept higher, traced a sensual path to the intimate place between her thighs. He stroked her. Once. Twice. The third time he applied a little more pressure, continued rubbing in a slow, soothing rhythm. “Do you like that, Priscilla?”

With half-closed eyes, she whispered, “You know I do.”

“Have I told you I find your honesty highly stimulating?”

“I … I am grateful you find—” she sucked in a breath, “you find my manner pleasing.”

With skilled precision, his fingers continued to massage her sensitive spot. Already slick and moist, he knew she could take him. “Do you want me to continue?” he asked merely to tease a reaction.

“Continue? Oh, yes … don’t … don’t stop.” Firm fingers grasped his shoulders as she struggled to keep her balance. She rocked her hips and pressed against his hand. The measured movements conveyed a hint of embarrassment, but he could feel her growing passion fighting for freedom.

As he rubbed back and forth with longer strokes, his fingers found her entrance and dipped deeper inside as he continued to build momentum.

“Do you want to feel me moving inside you, Priscilla?” Hell, his cock was as solid as a steel rod. Innocence was so bloody arousing. “Do you want everything I have to give?”

The muscles in her core hugged his fingers tight. “Yes.”

One hand slipped from his shoulder. She rubbed her neck, arched her back as her body jerked in erratic spasms. Then devil take him, his temptress let her delicate fingers drift down her neck to massage her own breast.

Bloody hell! He was about to spill himself in his breeches.

The need to thrust home almost overwhelmed him. Forcing himself to focus, he continued to pluck her strings until the sweetest moan he’d ever heard burst from her lips. Her body shook, pulsed against his damp fingers.

“There’s no time to undress.” The urgency in his voice was undeniable. He stood abruptly, scooped his wife into his arms and carried her to the bed. “Forgive me if this is over in a matter of minutes.”

She did not reply but just stared at him with a look of glazed desire as he undid the fall of his breeches. Even when his throbbing erection sprang free, she simply lay there, the rapid rise and fall of her chest alerting him to the mounds of creamy flesh encased in silk.

The urge to see her naked took hold, to feast upon the glorious sight as he pumped hard. But to experience a deeper sense of intimacy at this stage would be a mistake.

Standing at the foot of the four-poster bed, he hooked his arms under her knees and pulled her closer to the edge. Never had he experienced the fire of anticipation flowing through his veins.

“Are you certain you want to continue?” he panted, easing her garments up to her waist. If she said no, it would be the most painful disappointment of his life.

A playful smile touched the corners of her mouth. “There is nothing I want more.” Her seductive tone soothed his senses.

Heaven help him. His wife was irresistible.

With a slight tremble in his fingers as he took his cock in hand, he nudged at her entrance. When he pushed deeper, she accepted the intrusion gladly, and he could not fail to notice the look of admiration swimming in her bright blue eyes.

With her tight muscles clamped around his cock, he moved. The first few measured thrusts stoked the fire of lust burning in his veins. God, being inside his wife was so deliciously sweet he almost forgot she was a virgin.

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt when I push through your maidenhead,” he said, “but I can promise the discomfort won’t last long.”

Priscilla clutched the coverlet in her fists. “Do it now then.”

“I’ll take it slow.” He leant down, devoured her mouth as though he’d not eaten for months. He could taste berries, a hint of sweet sherry, the intoxicating essence that made every kiss they’d shared so memorable.

“You know that won’t be possible,” she said as they broke for breath.

Matthew angled his hips and rubbed against her as he delved deeper. He held back until she writhed beneath him — until it became difficult for her to catch her breath.

With one long hard thrust, he drove past her innocence. Sank deep.

A sudden gasp left her lips. There were no tears, no cries of anguish, nothing but a look of wonder gracing her flushed face.

He stilled, grasped her hips and held her there. The intention was to give her a moment to grow accustomed to the feel of him buried inside. But he was the one shaken.

Their gazes locked.

“I think that means I am legally your wife.”

“You belong to me now.” The comment was supposed to be amusing. But a strange emotion surfaced, gripped him by the throat and refused to let go. The sensation was stifling, suffocating, too difficult to define.

Damn it all. He needed to breathe. He needed to focus on the task.

She’s just another woman. Forget she’s your wife.

Matthew swallowed. Even in this hurried claiming, he had given too much of himself. It did not bode well for the future.

Pushing aside the chaotic thoughts filling his head, he concentrated on mastering the perfect stroke. This was simply a case of fulfilling a moment of lustful desire. He moved slowly at first, but each slide into the realms of heaven only sought to chip away at the iron casing surrounding his heart. And so he pumped in short fast thrusts. With her sweet moans, full sensual lips, her damn arms spread out in wanton abandon, Priscilla was determined to capture him and keep him as her slave.

“Let me show you another position,” he said abruptly. “Flip over onto your stomach and then come up onto your knees.” This way it was easier to close his eyes, easier to ignore all the things that made her utterly beguiling.

She did as he asked without question.

With some irritation, he pushed her garments back up to her waist, ignored the deliciously round buttocks he wanted to kiss and nip. He entered her in one long deep motion, leant over and rubbed her sweet spot again until she cried, shuddered and called out his name. Then he closed his eyes and pounded hard. The loud slapping of skin against skin was highly arousing and brought matters to a quick conclusion.

In all of his conquests, he’d never spilt his seed inside a woman. And he had no intention of doing so now. At the point of release, he withdrew from his wife’s warm body and finished the job with his hand.

As the sound of ragged breathing filled the room, two things became abundantly clear. The depth of satisfaction he’d experienced with this woman was unique. And if he didn’t bolster his defences, his life would be nought but torture and pain.