She shook her head slowly, sending the cool silk of her loose hair over Wolfe’s hands. «No. I was just thinking.»

«What were you thinking?»

«I’ve never noticed the pulse beating in your neck before. Once I noticed it, I thought of touching it, of feeling the very movement of your life beneath my fingertips…»

Wolfe’s hand jerked at the sudden surge of his heart. The motion brought him very close to touching her breasts. He stopped brushing her hair.

«Dangerous thoughts, Jessi.»

«Why?»

«Because it makes a man want to let you touch the life in him.»

«Why is that dangerous?»

Wolfe looked down into Jessica’s clear eyes and knew that she hadn’t the faintest idea how much her words might arouse a man.

Teach the stubborn little nun not to fear a man’s touch. Then you’ll both be free.

Wolfe wondered if Jessica was teasing him solemnly once more, as she had about the ferocity of her silky, unbound hair. Slowly, he decided that she wasn’t teasing him. She truly didn’t know what he was talking about. The extent of her innocence astonished him. The aristocratic ladies he had known in England acquired new lovers the way a gambler acquired new cards — frequently and unemotionally.

«Have you ever touched a man like that, feeling his very life?» Wolfe asked, lifting the brush once more.

«No.»

«Why not, if it intrigues you so?»

«I never noticed it before now. And if I had, I would have done nothing.»

«Why?»

«I would have to stand quite close to a man to touch him like that,» Jessica said. «The thought appalls.»

«You’re standing quite close to me. I’m a man.»

«Ah, but you’re my very own Lord Wolfe. When the storm had me in its teeth, you snatched me close and held the thunder at bay. When other children teased me savagely about my common blood, you came and put an end to it. You taught me to shoot and to ride and to fish. And no matter how I teased you, you were never cruel to your elf.»

«Very few men are cruel to elves.»

A delicate shiver of pleasure moved over Jessica’s skin as Wolfe resumed brushing her hair.

«You’re shivering. Would you like a wrap?»

«It was pleasure, not a cold draft that made me shiver.»

Again, Wolfe’s hand hesitated as the meaning underlying Jessica’s words sent a shaft of desire through him.

«Did Lady Victoria teach you to flirt like this?» he asked curiously.

«Flirting consists of feints and sighs and lies. I am merely telling the truth. It never felt this good when Betsy brushed my hair.»

There was a time of silence broken only by the whisper of soft bristles through Jessica’s hair. Finally, Wolfe put the brush aside, turned her until her back was to him, and divided the dark red mass of her hair into three equal lots. The touch of his hands on her nape made her shiver again.

«It’s a pity we’re all wrong for each other as man and wife,» Wolfe said quietly as he wove her hair into a single thick braid. «There is passion in you, Jessi.»

Abruptly, Jessica’s body became rigid. «I think not,» she said distinctly. «The thought of lying with a man makes my stomach twist.»

«Why?»

The quiet question startled Jessica. «Would you like a man doing that to you?» she demanded.

«A man?» Wolfe laughed. «No, not a man. But a woman…ah, that’s a different thing entirely.»

«Only for a man,» she retorted. «He is strong enough to say yes or no as it pleases him. When it’s finally finished, he doesn’t lie weeping on the bed. Nor does he scream in agony months later, as what he put in the woman’s body tears her apart trying to get out!»

«Someone has filled your head with nonsense. It’s not like that.»

«Not for a man, certainly.»

«Nor for a woman.»

«From what great font of wisdom do you draw this conclusion?» Jessica asked sardonically. «Have you attended a woman in childbed?»

«Of course not. Neither have you. Hand me the light blue ribbon.»

«Ah, but I have,» she retorted, grabbing the ribbon and holding it over her shoulder.

«What? I can’t imagine Victoria permitting that.»

«It was before I went to live with her.»

Wolfe’s hands paused. He took the ribbon and began wrapping it around the tail of the single braid he had woven.

«You were only nine when Lady Victoria became your guardian. What was a girl so young doing at a birthing?»

Jessica shrugged. «I was the first born. My mother had many pregnancies before cholera took her.»

«You never told me you had brothers and sisters.»

«I don’t.» An involuntary shudder moved over Jessica as memories tried to surface, memories she had banished to her nightmares years ago.

«Jessi,» Wolfe said. He touched the curve of her neck with a gentle fingertip. «A young girl doesn’t always understand what she’s seeing, especially when it comes to the mystery of sex or birth. But if it was all so terrible, no woman would bear more than one babe.»

«Not willingly, no. Have you noticed, my Lord Wolfe, that men are considerably stronger than women, and considerably more interested in rutting?» Abruptly Jessica’s hands swept up and down her own arms, rubbing warmth into skin that was cold. «You’re right. It’s cool in here. I wonder where Betsy put my Chinese shawl. Do you see it, Wolfe?»

For the space of a breath there was no answer. Then Wolfe sighed and accepted the change of subject. «I’ll get it for you as soon as I finish braiding your hair.»

Jessica turned and looked over her shoulder at Wolfe. She smiled at him with lips that were too pale. «Thank you, my lord.»

«I’m not your lord.» The protest was automatic, but not angry. He had seen the gratitude in her eyes, and the fear that lay beneath it.

«Then thank you, my husband.»

«I’m not that, either. A wife lies with her husband. Or are you planning to pursue the vows of the Scottish marriage ceremony we took?»

«What?»

«’With my body I thee worship,» Wolfe quoted softly. «Are you planning to worship me, wife?»

Jessica turned away quickly, but not so quickly that Wolfe missed the horror in her eyes. Knowing that he repelled her as a man made anger twist as deeply in Wolfe as desire. The knowledge that he now had a weapon with which to force Jessica into an annulment should have pleased him, but it did not.

«What if I demanded my husbandly rights?»

She flinched, but said instantly, «You would not.»

«You sound very certain.»

«You didn’t want our marriage. If you rut on me, you can’t cry annulment.»

Wolfe’s mouth turned down in a bitter curl. «You’re right, Lady Jessica. I willneverrut on you. I don’t want to be saddled for life with a creature so spoiled and useless she can’t even comb her own hair.»

He tied off the ribbon with a few abrupt motions.

«Wolfe, I —»

«Start packing your clothes,» he interrupted curtly. With grim pleasure, he saw Jessica’s look of surprise and uncertainty. «Don’t know how to pack? What a surprise. You had better learn quickly, Lady Jessica. The stage leaves in an hour. You will be on it, with or without your six trunks.»

She looked at the armoires and wardrobes that had been brought into the suite of rooms in order to hold all her clothes. Then she looked at the locked trunks. It seemed impossible that so much clothing had come from so little packing space.

«It took Betsy the better part of a week to pack when we left,» Jessica said faintly.

Wolfe ran a measuring eye over the armoires and wardrobes. «That’s because you brought too much. Sort out what you’ll need for a month. Leave the rest here.»

«Are we planning to come back here so quickly?»

«Not we. You. You’ll be back as soon as you get it through your stubborn Scots skull that you don’t want to be an American wife married to ahalfbreed commoner.»

Jessica’s head came up. «I remember other vows, WolfeLonetree. Whither thougoest, I will go. Whither thoulodgest, I will lodge. Thy people will be my people, and thy God, my God.»

«My shaman grandfather will be pleased to have such an obedient granddaughter.» Wolfe’s lips curved in his dark face. «I wonder how you’ll look in buckskin, beads, and shells. How will you like chewing my meat before it comes to my mouth so that my food will be tender for me, and chewing my buckskins so they will be soft and supple against my body?»

«You’re joking.»

«Am I?» Wolfe smiled, showing all his white teeth and not one bit of comfort. «I’m going to walk to the stage office and buy two tickets. When I come back, I expect to see the trunks lined up and waiting to go, and you with them.»

The door closed behind Wolfe’s broad shoulders. Jessica looked at the ill-made wood frame and the tarnished brass hinges. As she turned away, she caught a glance of herself in the dressing glass. The odd, simple hairstyle made her look like a child playing in her mother’s clothes. Each time she moved, the braid caught on the many buttons on the back of her dress. With an impatient sound, she brought the heavy braid over her shoulder and down between her breasts, where it would be less trouble.

Setting her mouth in a determined line, Jessica pulled a key ring from the pocket of her skirt, opened the padlocks on all of the trunks, and tossed the jangling ring onto the bedside table. Then she went among the wardrobes and armoires and began assessing their contents.

The first wardrobe contained shoes, boots, hatboxes, purses, jackets, and coats. Jessica shut the doors and went on to an armoire. It contained corsets, crinolines of varying fullness, gloves, and lingerie. The third contained day dresses. The fourth held riding dresses. The fifth held the ball gown from her twentieth birthday. And so it went, until she had looked in everything.