Half amused, half appalled, she said, "How dreadful. Did that mollify him?"

"Eventually. After I mumbled a lot of platitudes about how the horrors of war can make a man act recklessly, but that peace and my fortunate survival have made me reevaluate my life and vow to reform." He frowned. "I dislike deceiving him. Though he's difficult, his concern for his tenants is very real."

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry to have put you in that position. You were right at the beginning when you said there would be all sorts of unexpected consequences."

His arm tightened around her shoulders. "In this case, I think the end justifies the means. You'll make an admirable Lady of Skoal. But first we must convince your grandfather that we are reliable and very married. He has an old-fashioned belief that a woman must have a husband."

"Then it's time for more spousely affection." She stood on her toes and touched her lips to his.

She meant it as a gesture of thanks and affection, so she was unprepared for the intensity of his response. He made a choked sound and his mouth crushed into hers. Her lips opened under the force of the kiss. Sliding, languid richness. Fierce, consuming power. She felt strengthless, her body melting into his, yet at the same time she was blazingly alive, her fatigue seared away.

She had not known, never dreamed, that a kiss could be like this. Her hands opened and closed helplessly on his ribs. This was what she had wanted since the first time she met him. This dark masculine force that dissolved her fears, this flowering of desire that filled her heart and flooded her senses.

His palms kneaded her back, shaping her body and pressing it into his. Then the hardening ridge of male flesh against her belly shattered her mood and returned her to reality. She wanted to cry out and shove him violently away.

But the fault was hers, not his. She put her hands on his upper arms and stepped back, saying lightly, "That should convince everyone we're married."

She saw the shock of interrupted desire in his eyes, the rapid pulse in his throat, and despised herself. She had failed to keep her distance, and now he was paying for her weakness.

Because he was stronger than she, it was only a handful of moments before his feelings were masked behind cool, social amusement. "We might have overdone it. People who have been married for a dozen years seldom kiss like that in the middle of a dinner party. This would be more believable."

He raised her chin and his lips slanted across hers for an instant. She saw when he released her chin that he was unaffected by the caress. She was not so lucky; the swift, passing touch was enough to restore the fever in her blood. With despair, she wondered why life was so unfair. It would be far easier if she were incapable of desire.

Placing his palm in the small of her back, Michael guided her toward the French doors. "I think we've done our duty as guests and can honorably retire now. I'm so exhausted that I won't even be aware I'm sleeping on the floor."

Perhaps he wouldn't notice, but she would. She noticed every breath he took.

Michael spent half the night lying awake and feeling like an adulterer. Catherine's expression after that damnable, heedless kiss haunted him. Granted, she had initiated it, but her intentions had been innocent. He was the one who had turned a simple embrace into raging lust.

When she broke away, her eyes had been filled with dismay, almost fear. He had hated himself for doing that to her. She considered him a friend, and was trusting him in a situation vital to her future. But because of that kiss, she had watched warily when he locked the door of the bedchamber behind them. Her body had been stiff, as if she feared he would force unwelcome attentions on her, and she did not speak as she went behind the screen to change from her evening dress.

She had emerged in a nightgown that was large and shapeless and quite opaque. Nonetheless, she had looked utterly desirable as she slid under the bedcovers.

He had done his best to be matter-of-fact, as if sharing a bedroom with her was a perfectly normal business. The pallet he made up was as far from the bed as possible. He carefully dowsed the candles before changing into his nightclothes and lying down.

His behavior must have allayed her concern, for soon her breathing had become soft and regular. He envied her clear conscience, the result of being a saint rather than a sinner. Proof of his depraved nature was that he could not suppress the satisfaction of knowing that she had briefly responded to him with an intensity that matched his own. Though she was a good and virtuous wife, she, too, felt the sexual pull between them.

It would be safer if she did not. As he stared into the darkness and listened to the ceaseless rumble of the sea, he wondered if their honorable principles would be strong enough to prevent them from doing the unforgivable.

Chapter 23

Catherine threw back her head and laughed into the wind. "Beautiful!"

Silently Michael agreed, though his gaze was on her sunlit form, not the crashing waves far below at the base of the cliff. She looked eerily like the sketch that Kenneth had drawn of the diabolically beautiful Siren who stood on a wild, rocky shore, singing a lethal song to draw sailors to their doom. If the Siren was as lovely as Catherine, those ancient sailors had died happy.

Davin Penrose was giving the visitors a tour of Skoal, explaining the sights and introducing Catherine and her "husband" to the islanders. The Skoalans were reserved with the laird's granddaughter. Slow, thoughtful gazes would go from her to the constable to Michael, then back to Catherine. She would have to prove herself before she would be fully accepted.

Michael guessed that her beauty counted against her, for it was hard to believe a woman so lovely could also be serious of purpose. The islanders would learn in time.

Davin spoke again. "Even though the island is small, the edges are so rough that it's said the coastline is forty miles long." He indicated the rocky path that led down the cliff face. "Below is Dane's Cove. There's a small beach below. You might like to visit another day. It's a good place to picnic."

Catherine smiled. "If the seagulls don't steal one's food. I've never seen so many gulls."

"It's illegal to kill a gull on Skoal," Davin said. "In the fog, their cries warn sailors that land is near."

Michael shaded his eyes and peered into the sun. "Is that another island out there, or a mirage?"

"That's Bone, our sister island. It's almost as large as Skoal. You've not heard of it?"

"I'm afraid not," Catherine replied. "What an odd name."

"Not so odd," Davin said dryly. "Skoal meant 'skull' in the old Viking tongue. The warriors' toast of 'Skoal!' was drunk from the skull of an enemy. Since Vikings named this island, it makes sense that the neighboring one is called Bone." Having earlier received permission from Catherine to smoke when he wished, Davin took out a clay pipe and filled it with tobacco from his pouch. "Bone is part of the Bailiwick of Skoal, so it belongs to the laird."

Catherine gazed out over the white-capped waves. "Does anyone live there?"

"It's an unlucky place." Davin shielded the bowl of his pipe from the wind and lit the tobacco. "There's a huge seabird colony, and sheep and cattle graze there, but no man has lived on Bone for at least a hundred years."

"Why is it considered unlucky?" Michael asked.

"Irish monks built there as well as here, but one Easter they were murdered by Vikings while singing mass. It was a long time before Bone was settled again. Things were well enough at first. Then a plague killed every man, woman, and child. No one has wanted to live there since." The constable gazed pensively across the sea. "There are other problems. The landscape is rocky and the soil not so fertile as here. Also, though the islands are only a couple of miles apart, the waters are so rough and the currents so strong that crossing between is difficult."

Intrigued, Catherine said, "Is it possible to visit?"

"Oh, aye, with a good boatman and a calm day. We go over once or twice a year to shear the sheep and slaughter some of the cattle. Tough beef, but it means that more land on Skoal can be cultivated for crops."

"Skoal is a tiny kingdom, isn't it?" Catherine observed. "Almost entirely self-sufficient, every inch of land known and loved by people whose roots run centuries deep. You must be proud of your part in making it this way."

Davin's teeth clamped onto the stem of his pipe, and a muscle jerked in his jaw. Catherine didn't notice because she was still looking at Bone, but Michael saw, and was surprised. He wondered what caused such a reaction in a man who was usually so calm. One would think the constable would be pleased by the approval of a woman who might become his employer.

After a long silence, Davin removed the pipe from his mouth and said dispassionately, "I merely do my job. Everyone on Skoal contributes in his own fashion. We need and trust each other. There are no locked doors on this island."

As they went back to where their horses were tethered, Glynis Penrose and two young boys strolled into view from behind a stand of wind-gnarled trees. The constable's wife also carried an infant in a sling fashioned from a shawl.

She smiled sunnily at the visitors as the older children skipped up to greet their father. "Good day to you both. These are our boys, Jack and Ned." She grinned. "I think they saw you riding this way, and had hopes of a meeting. You two are the most exciting news on Skoal in years."