“Yes, yes. That’s the one.”

Growling with frustration, she arched against his hand. Finally he took pity on her and put that teasing mouth to better use. Within seconds, he had her crying out in exquisite pleasure. The second climax left her shuddering and weak. Her whole body sang with bliss, but she still ached for more. She needed him inside her, needed to feel that sense of completion when their bodies joined.

He stroked her thigh. “What do you want, Isabel? Tell me. Ask me anything.”

“Release me.”

“Anything but that. I’ll unbind your wrists in time, but I mean to free your passion first.”

“I don’t—”

“You do. You’re the most passionate woman I’ve ever known. You’re so passionate, you’re frightened of it. Don’t be.” He gently caressed her between her legs. “God, you are so wet, so ready. You’re wet for me. Ready for me. Don’t deny it. Don’t deny me. Tell me what you want.”

“I want…”

I want you inside me.

She just couldn’t say it, not like that. Not with him staring down at her in the full sunlight, while she lay bound to the bed. He had all the power in this situation, and while that had excited her earlier … now she found herself needing to even the balance.

“I want you to disrobe,” she said. If he would not loose her restraints, at least she could force him to remove his clothes. They would be equal in nakedness, at least.

“Gladly.” With a roguish grin, he unbuttoned his waistcoat and cast it aside, before making short work of his cuffs. In a matter of moments, he’d gathered his shirt and pulled it over his head. Then he sat up to remove his boots, offering Bel a splendid view of his bare-chested form. She admired the lean, sculpted tone of his muscles; the masculine grace of his movements. She had to remind herself again that this paragon of male beauty was her husband

— hers.

His boots removed, Toby unfastened his trousers and smallclothes and slid them down over his hips. And then there he sat, gloriously naked and proud. He hadn’t a tremor of selfconsciousness in his whole body, and Bel envied that strength and confidence almost as much as she desired to feel it, covering her. Inside her.

“And …?” he prompted. “Tell me what now.”

Come make love to me. Join with me.

But she couldn’t say it, not yet. He still had her at his mercy, and she did not want to beg.

“Come kiss me,” she whispered.

“With pleasure.” Cautiously, he stretched his naked body over hers. Tenderly, he touched her lips with his. Those lips that had so recently tasted every inch of her body, so that it was almost as though Bel were kissing herself. How curious. She did taste of apricots. They kissed slowly, and then deeply. And then quite urgently.

His arousal pulsed against her thigh, and her own body throbbed and ached for him.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered against her neck. “God, tell me soon, or I swear I shall die. I’ve wanted you all day, every moment. So fiercely I thought I’d explode with it. Say the words, Isabel. Let me in.”

Bel felt a wide, giddy smile stretching her face. At last. He might have her bound by the wrists and panting with pleasure, but she had him naked and desperate and utterly tied in knots. And now, all the power was hers.

She hooked one leg over his and ground against him in invitation.

“Isabel,” he groaned. “Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“You have to say it,” he demanded, in that curt, arousing voice.

She laughed. He lifted his head, and their eyes locked.

“No, I don’t,” she said, giving him a coy smile.

His amber-flecked eyes warmed with understanding. “You tease,” he accused, a grin spreading across his face. And then, taking her mouth, “That’s my girl.”

He kissed her passionately, moaning against her mouth as he lifted her hips and—merciful heaven— finally slid into her.

Oh, it felt so perfect. So right.

Holding steady deep within her, he reached over her head to untie the cravat. Once her hands were free, they flew straight to him. He took her in strong, deep strokes, and she explored his body boldly with her fingers, caressing him in places she’d never dared to touch before: the taut swell of his buttock, the downy slope of his thigh. She felt free now, free to possess all of him. Locking her ankles behind his back, she reached under them, to touch where their bodies joined—his hard, thick shaft sliding in and out of her body, the soft, vulnerable sac beneath. He swore. “I can’t—”

She squeezed gently, and he groaned.

“I—God, I can’t stop it.”

“Don’t try.” She raised both hands to his shoulders and clung to him tight. “Just let go.”

Grasping her hips, he took her hard and fast, driving her back toward the edge of that blissful nothingness.

And in that last moment of delicious tension before she cried out in release, Bel thought to herself—if she never returned from it, she would not mind.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The next morning, Bel knew she must have gone mad sometime during the night. Surely she must be seeing things.

Lambs.

Honestly, lambs. White, fluffy, innocent lambs frolicking on a sloping green. They even made adorable little bleating noises to one another.

As if Wynterhall weren’t idyllic enough already—as if Bel hadn’t just spent the morning touring what was now her very own enchanted castle and made the acquaintance of a benevolent house staff surely taken from the pages of some fairy story—now Toby had swept her out onto the terrace to see the well-tended gardens.

And greet the lambs.

Really. Even for her, this was a bit much. And it felt so incongruously innocent, after the torrid night of passion they’d shared. She could scarcely look at Toby this morning without blushing.

“Are they pets?” she asked, as one of the bleating creatures nosed her skirts. “Some sort of pastoral decoration, like park deer?”

Toby chuckled. “No, they’re a nuisance. We’re overrun with the creatures. Our steward increased the flock last autumn—with the new stocking factory down the river, wool is a good investment. And then it was a particularly fruitful spring for lambing, I gather. Now we’re drowning in the things.”

Together they walked across the green. The grass was still damp with the last touch of morning dew.

“They were meant to have the north fields for pasture,” Toby continued. “But those plans met with a bit of a snag when the north fields flooded last month, and now… now, they’re rather everywhere. It’s positively biblical, isn’t it?” He tugged sharply on her hand. “Watch your step, darling. Their leavings are everywhere, too.”

“Oh!” Bel hopped, narrowly missing the offense to her slippers.

Toby gave her a sheepish grin. “This is rural life, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be concerned on my account. I grew up on a plantation. I spent my childhood tossing grain to the chickens and gathering eggs.”

“Truly? You were made to tend chickens?”

“Oh, no one made me. I wanted to do it.” Bel bit back a laugh. “I’ll tell you a secret, if you like.”

“I would like.”

“I used to redistribute their eggs, depending on how well I liked the hens. My favorites, I tallied as good layers—whether or not it was the truth. If one pecked my fingers, however, she would be …” Bel shrugged.

“Dinner.” He gave her an exaggerated look of reproach. “You scheming thing, you. I tell you, my entire opinion of you has changed. I’ll never look at you the same again.”

Bel made a show of laughing, because she knew him to be in jest. She knew it in her mind, but still, some anxious twist of her belly argued otherwise.

“What confessions you make,” he said. “I shall make you wait years to hear mine, until you are old and feeble and mostly deaf. Even then, I’ll have to surround you with pillows in the event you fall over with shock.”

“I think I’d just as soon never know.”

“Yes, that’s probably best.” They had crossed the green now and entered a wooded glen. Toby turned them onto a narrow, root-scored path. “This is the way to Yorke Manor.”

“Then why would we wish to follow it?” she asked.

“Why, to visit Mr. Yorke.”

“Truly? But you’re opponents.” Wouldn’t it be awkward for the two of them to meet, socially?

Bel would find it awkward, at any rate.

“Yes, we’re opponents since yesterday. But we’ve been friends for years, and neighbors since I was born. None of that is negated by the election.”

“You’re right, of course.” Bel sighed. It hadn’t been very gracious of her to object. She felt so on edge with Toby this morning, as though he would disapprove of her every remark. Perhaps it was the pressure of entering this grand estate as its mistress.

No, of course not. She knew her anxieties stemmed from their lovemaking yesterday. And last night. And very early this morning.

By all evidence, Toby had been well pleased with their use of the ancestral bed—as had she—

but Bel worried that he would regard her differently, now that she’d been so bold with him. Had any of his respect for her survived the night?

“Do you know, your little chickens tale started me thinking.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Me, thinking.” He gave her a self-effacing look. “Hard to credit, I know.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know it.” Smiling, he took her hand in his. “But I was thinking, about what a supremely fortunate fellow I am. I get along with most everyone, Isabel. There are many people I like, many people I call friend—but in all my life, I’ve met few individuals I can honestly say I admire. Do you know what I mean?”

“Perhaps,” she answered carefully, worried about where she now fell in that divide. “But we each have a measure of goodness. Surely one can find something—some act or personal quality—to admire in any person.”

“Surely you can do so—but you are better than me. No, I can count only a small number of my acquaintances that I deem worthy of unequivocal admiration. Can you guess who they might be?”

“Your mother?” That was an easy guess. Isabel admired her mother-in-law, too, for her sharp wit and easy grace.

“Yes, for one. Mr. Yorke is another.” He laughed a little. “And if I ever wanted to start an interesting scene, I should gather them both in the same room and tell them so.” With his free hand, he picked up a fallen branch and swung it idly, swatting at the bushes and vines as they went. “Don’t you see? If there are only a handful of people I can admire in the world, how lucky am I? I was born to one of them, grew up a stone’s throw from another …” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “And now I’ve managed to marry a third.”

Bel’s heart warmed. How did he do it? How did he always intuit just exactly what she needed to hear and then speak the words so convincingly? It was beyond charm, it was … She didn’t even know what to call it. “Toby, that’s very …” Romantic? Generous? Undeserved? “…

sweet.”

“Sweet?” He hurried forward a step, then swung around to face her, halting her progress. Suddenly, his tone wasn’t teasing anymore—simply husky and soft. “It’s nothing to do with being sweet. I’m being honest.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me?”

“Lie to you?” Pausing, he gave her a little smile. “Never.”