"Heavens. No doubt I should develop the vapors at such a scandalous suggestion."

He trailed his fingertips over her breasts. "Vapors? Shall I ring for the hartshorn?"

"That won't be necessary. Fortunately I possess a most-"

"Robust constitution. Yes, that is indeed… for-tunate."

"Oh, my. Your tone indicates a need for stamina. What did you have in mind? A race?"

"Well, I do want to leave in half an hour." Her chemise joined her gown at her ankles. The sight of her, naked and impossibly beautiful, a half shy, half devilish smile lighting her face, tightened his throat. Bloody hell, she moved him like no other woman ever had.

This feeling she inspired in him confused and confounded him. It was more than wanting. It was a need. A soul-wrenching need to touch her, feel her.

He drew her into his arms and kissed her deeply, endlessly, his muscles straining with the effort of bringing her closer, holding her tighter. Turning them, he backed her against the wall, pinning her in place while his mouth devoured hers and his hands skimmed down her sides.

She responded to his every touch, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him until he could feel her heart slamming against his own.

"Austin… please…"

Her plea snapped something inside him. Please. God yes, please. He was about to burst. He needed her. Now. Now.

Reaching between them, he all but tore his breeches open, then hauled her upward. "Wrap your legs around me," he ground out in a voice he didn't recognize.

With wide eyes, she obeyed and he slipped inside her. Her heat engulfed him, squeezing him in a velvety fist. Gripping her hips, he moved within her, his thrusts rough and fast. His brow beaded with sweat and his choppy breathing burned his lungs. With one final thrust, his climax battered him. Burying his head against her shoulder, he clenched his fingers into her hips, and for an endless moment, he pulsed inside her, spilling his seed and part of his soul into her.

It took a moment for sanity to return. When it did he lifted his head and looked at her. Her eyes were closed her face pale. Guilt hit him like a rock.

What the hell was wrong with him? He'd just taken his wife against the wall. As if she were some dockside whore. Without a thought to her feelings or pleasure. He'd probably hurt her. He looked down and saw the red marks his fingers had branded on her hips. She must think him a monster.

As gently as he could he eased himself from her. Her legs unclasped from his waist and slid down. She would have sagged onto the floor if he hadn't grabbed her. Damn it! She couldn't even stand! How badly had he hurt her?

Holding her with one arm around her waist, he brushed a tangled auburn lock from her forehead. "Elizabeth. God. I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

Her eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. He braced himself for the condemnation he knew he'd see in her eyes, the angry words he deserved.

Her golden brown eyes focused on his. "I'm utterly marvelous. Who won?"

"Won?"

A small smiled played around her lips. "The race. I believe I won, but I'm willing to concede."

"I… didn't hurt you?"

"Certainly not. Of course, my knees feel like porridge, but that is an affliction that happens every time you touch me." Concern clouded her eyes. "Did I hurt you?"

Relief hit him so hard his own knees nearly sagged. A lump lodged in his throat and he had to force the word around it. "No."

He needed to explain, to apologize, but how could he explain what he didn't understand himself? He never lost control like that. He didn't know the words, but he certainly owed it to her to try.

Before he could speak, however, she brushed her lips over his. "I believe we still have ten minutes left," she whispered against his mouth. "Do you really want to spend them talking?"

A half laugh, half groan escaped him. He should have known to expect the unexpected from her. Bending, he scooped her up into his arms and headed toward the bed.

As long as she was willing, there were at least half a dozen things he wanted to do in the next ten minutes.

And talking was most definitely not one of them.

Chapter 16


Thirty minutes later, Elizabeth stood in front of the cheval glass and stared at her reflection. Even her own parents would not recognize her.