avid stared down at Victoria, her determined eyes reflecting the light of thousands of candles. He knew that there had been a time in her life when this would have frightened her to death.

Not anymore. Now she intended to make him proud of her. For a moment he felt a lump in his throat, a feeling of tenderness for her that startled him with its intensity.

Regardless of who was watching, he trailed his gloved fingers down the side of her face, imagined the softness of her skin.

"I'm already proud of you," he whispered. "Can you be proud of me?"

"Oh, David, maybe we each have to be proud of ourselves first."

She looked at him as if anything was possible. He gave her a brisk smile and stepped back.

"Are you ready?"

He pulled her hand around his elbow and led her through the room, stopping at occasional clusters of people to introduce his wife.

Victoria was serene and elegant and charmed every person she met. David began to think that it was because of her that he noticed so few under-currents in every conversation. But he kept waiting for someone to be openly rude, and it could have ruined the evening for him.

But he wasn't going to let it.

Then Lady Augusta Clifford, whom they'd last encountered at the dressmaker's, cornered them between a potted fern and the piano.

"Lord and Lady Thurlow, how good to see you again." She glanced down at Victoria's gown, and her smile faltered. "How wonderful you look in the garment Madame Dupuy pieced together for you."

David took an angry breath, but Victoria squeezed his elbow and said, "Thank you so much, Lady Augusta. And I feel wonderful tonight, which is even more important, don't you think?"

"Hmmm," the woman said, then fixed her gaze on David. "I have a question that only you can answer, Lord Thurlow. Have you heard of Southern Railway?"

He called on every acting skill he possessed to look at her blankly. "Yes. Why?"

"I'm traveling to Dover in several months, and I was going to use their trains. My husband suggested that since you invested in it, perhaps we should do the same."

She only wanted to talk about investments, but David's worst fear about the ruination of all his plans hit him hard. "It is a good investment." He took Victoria's elbow. "Excuse us, but we're both quite thirsty."

Lady Augusta blinked. "Why— of course."

David used his height to his advantage, and spotted the quickest way to the terrace. After threading his way through dozens of couples, he reached the tall glass doors and pushed them open. The gust of cool air refreshed him.

"Breathe, David."

He frowned down at Victoria as she drew him to the balustrade, then slipped behind a tall column, shielding them from any curious people near the door.

She tried to fan him with her hand, her laughter swelling her breasts rather dangerously in that gown. Under the moonlight, her skin glowed, her eyes flashed.

"I think I'm breathing well enough," he said.

"Good."

And then she kissed him. The shock of her softly parted lips against his inflamed a desire for her that had become so much a part of him that he didn't question it any longer. He pulled her against him, groaning at the pressure of her full breasts against his chest.

Victoria's senses floundered. She was pressed up against her husband, who held her as if he might never let her go. His mouth was so gentle at first, as always, light kisses against her lips. She felt the prickly brush of his chin, heard his groan that echoed her own. She didn't care where she was, or who might be watching her.

All she cared about was that David was kissing her back— an unplanned, spontaneous burst of passion practically in public. It satisfied her right down to her toenails.

And then he nipped at her lips, and when she parted them in surprise, his tongue swept into her mouth, and she could taste him in a way that made every intimate act they'd shared before seem incomplete. The way he licked deep inside her made her shudder with an urgent need for more. His mouth clashed with hers, opening, parting, almost drinking from her. After sweeping his hands down her body, he pulled her hips against his. There were too many garments between them to feel much, but she reveled in this rare sensation of being wanted.

"Thurlow!" a voice called from far away. "I saw you come out here."

David ended the kiss, lifting his head but not releasing her. She swayed into him, and he smiled with a look of satisfaction and promise.

"This isn't over," he said in a low, rumbling tone that set off an answering vibration deep inside her.

How she loved what his voice could do to her.

She clutched his sleeves before he could release her. "David, can I face somebody like this?"

He cupped her face in his gloved hands, and she wished for the feeling of his skin against hers.

"You look like a wife, my wife. And besides, it's only Simon." He guided her away from the balustrade.

Lord Wade was walking toward them, his stride as jaunty as his manner. She couldn't read his eyes in the moonlight, but his grin was wicked.

"Lady Thurlow," he said, "your husband dragged you from the room before I could say hello."

She smiled. "Hello, Lord Wade. And I wasn't dragged. I came quite willingly."

"Yes, married ladies have all the fun," Lord Wade answered.

"You know that as well," David said dryly.

Victoria stared in shock at Lord Wade, who only laughed.

"Ah, David, any married ladies sneaking off with me do so quite willingly."

"Just remember the 'willing' part."

Lord Wade put a hand dramatically on his chest. "Why, Lord Thurlow, is that a threat? You've somewhere acquired a married man's jealousy." He glanced at Victoria. "Not that I blame you."

"Lord Thurlow has no need for jealousy," Victoria said. "And this conversation is silly. Shall we go inside?"

She took David's arm, and was satisfied when Lord Wade fell into place at her side.

As they entered the ballroom, no one seemed to be watching them. The orchestra was playing, and couples were jostling for position on the dance floor.

"Do you have a dance card?" Lord Wade asked.

David answered, "No" before she could even open her mouth. And then her husband swept her into a waltz that had almost the same intimacy as their kiss. She was floating through the air, as if her feet didn't need to touch the floor. David looked at her with smoldering eyes, full of promise that the night was nowhere near over.

They spent only an hour at the ball, but that was long enough for Victoria. In the carriage on the way home, she didn't want to break the delicious spell of anticipation that pulled between them.

Inside their town house, he took her hand and led a fast pace up the stairs. When she nearly tripped on the final steps, he swung her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way, as if she weighed nothing.

She felt smugly happy when David ordered a grinning Anna out of the room and shut the door on her.

They were alone. Her arms were about her husband's neck; his arms held her close— as close as possible with skirts and petticoats puffing up her gown where it draped from her legs.

He let her down very slowly, so that her body rubbed against his. Then he pressed her up against the door and kissed her again, quick and deep and full of hot pleasure. She had felt certain David was hiding a passionate nature; every night's gentleness and intimacy had only proved it. But now she felt giddy with the knowledge that he had to touch and kiss her, had to have her.

His hands kneaded her shoulders as they kissed. With a sudden tug, her breasts were suddenly overflowing the gown.

He looked down at what he'd revealed, then murmured her name as he dropped to his knees. His mouth on her breasts made her melt inside, made every passionate feeling roar to unfulfilled heights. He licked her and nipped her and drew her nipple into his mouth, then worked his magic on the other breast. If he hadn't been holding her up with the press of his body, she knew she would have collapsed in a boneless heap.

David let his fingers caress her breasts as he spoke. "How do we get you out of this gown?"

She licked her lips. "Anna…sewed me in where the bodice meets the skirt."

He groaned and dropped his head to her chest. She let herself hold him then, circle her arms about his head, feel the texture of his hair.

He suddenly turned her around and began to unhook each clasp in the bodice.

"I'm ripping the stitches," he said.

As each thread popped, she gave a delicious little shudder. Soon her bodice slid to her waist, then the heavy mass of the gown fell around her feet. But there were still so many clothes between them.

David dispatched them quite professionally, layer after layer of petticoat, then her corset, all while she still faced the door. She took a deep, satisfying breath, expanding her lungs for the first time that evening. She wore only her chemise over her drawers, and even that had fallen to her waist. Then there was only stillness behind her.

"Turn around," he said.

She did so, leaning back against the door, hands pressed to the wood. David was sitting back on his heels, watching her with so much expectation.

Then as he looked into her eyes, he reached for her chemise and pulled it off. He tugged on the string of her drawers, then guided the loose fabric slowly down her hips until she was naked.

Trembling, she let him look, knowing that the passion in his eyes was all for her. His hands settled on her hips and then skimmed down her thighs.

"Stand with your legs apart."

She obeyed, stepping out of her drawers, then held her breath as his fingers trailed up her thighs, then brushed across her curls. She gasped, but he didn't linger, just continued to caress a path up her stomach to her breasts, which he touched and teased until she was a quivering wreck.

"Please, David," she whispered, not knowing what she wanted. Could he give it to her?

He smiled as his hands began a downward journey. She watched the concentration on his face, experienced the knowledgeable gentleness of his hands. When he reached her thighs, this time he trailed his fingers up the insides, taking his time until she thought she'd whimper with the sensations he wrung from her. Was he really supposed to touch her there?

And then he did, caressing deeper and deeper with each sweet stroke. His fingers glistened with wetness.

"David," she whispered, "why am I the only one who's nude?"

Still kneeling at her feet, he looked up into her face. "Because I can't bear to stop touching you. Trust me."

She nodded. He leaned forward to kiss her stomach, and then his fingers resumed their questing. She felt a sudden surge of passion and groaned.

Then he was pressing soft kisses lower and lower, and she stopped breathing in shock as he put his mouth where his fingers had just been.

"David!"

He met her gaze, and licked her.

Her head slammed back against the door as she experienced the beginning of a pleasure that seemed too powerful to exist. She really did collapse this time, and he caught her, then swung to his feet and strode to the bed. He set her on the edge, spread her thighs even farther this time, and looked at her.

She tried to close her legs, and for the first time, David looked impatient.

Then his expression softened. "I have long forgotten what being a virgin is like, Victoria. I'm pushing you to things that you aren't ready for."

"You're not going to stop, are you?"

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm not going to stop, believe me." He shrugged out of his coat and let it drop wherever it landed. "But there are some things I'll save for another time."

Her questions died unanswered as she realized he was taking off his clothes. She watched fascinated as the absence of his cravat and stock left his neck bare. He removed his waistcoat, unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, and pulled it off over his head. His chest was as she remembered it, so broad and mesmerizing with muscle. He had to sit down to remove his boots and stockings, but he came back to stand before her. Then he unbuttoned the flaps of his trousers, and they dropped to the floor to reveal his loose drawers, and the bulge she'd seen before. He loosened the drawers, and as they fell, his penis dropped heavily as if it pointed at her.

She stared at it in shock, then raised her gaze to his.

He grinned.

Thank goodness he had not shown her this on their wedding night, or she might have run screaming from the room.

"Trust me," he whispered, leaning over her.

"I do," she said.

He climbed onto the bed, crawling over her, all smooth, flowing muscle. He kissed his way up her stomach and breasts, then devoured her mouth in a way that made her forget their nudity, forget what was to come, and just live in the moment.

For the moment had every pleasure she'd never imagined possible. He eased beside her and continued to kiss her breasts, while his hand moved between her thighs, parting them, stroking between them. She groaned and turned her face into his shoulder.

"Still shy?" he whispered into her ear. "That's part of your charm, sweetheart."

He'd used that word again, and she sighed her pleasure.

His mouth closed over her breast, suckling so gently, as his fingers began to move against her most private womanhood. She had had no idea that places on her body were so sensitive, but he treated her as if she were his own instrument, tuned by his hands, played to perfection as only he knew how. Her breath came in gasps; she burned with a desire so rousing she didn't know how her skin contained it. Every time she came close to the edge, he retreated, frustrating her so much that she finally cried out his name.

He renewed his efforts then, sending her flying up to a pinnacle as sweet and powerful as any musical note, held purely as she shuddered and fell into an abyss of deepest pleasure.

When she opened her eyes, David was watching her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He kissed her gently. "Did you enjoy that?"

She nodded. "It was…wondrous."

"There can be so much more."

Then he rolled over on top of her, parting her thighs and settling between them. The hard length of him rode against her newly tender flesh, and it felt good. He propped himself up on his arms above her.

"Sweetheart, I've tried to prepare you, but the first time a woman will often feel a small amount of pain. It's just once, then never again."

"I understand."

"Then bend your knees."

She did, and he settled even more intimately against her. His smiles were gone, and his face bore an intensity she'd never seen in him before. She felt the hardness of him probing her, and even as she stiffened he leaned down to kiss her. His mouth was captivating, distracting, but still she felt him inch inside her bit by bit, stretching her to fullness, not quite pain.

"Easy," he murmured against her lips, "easy."

Then with a single thrust he settled deep inside her. There was only a momentary pain, then the most wonderful feeling of satisfaction. She was his wife in every way.

And then he started moving, and her body seemed to know just what to do. It came to life again, bliss rising in ever increasing waves. She clasped him with her arms, with her thighs, holding as if she need never let him go. This was the intimacy hinted at in poetry, two people moving as if one. It was beautiful, and she felt tears slide down her cheeks that she could experience these wonderful feelings.

He rounded his back to reach her with a kiss, then used one hand to pull her knee higher. The shift made her quiver, made the wild feelings climax within her again. And as he groaned, she knew that he joined her, for he shuddered and seemed to pour himself inside her.

She thought it was his seed.

As she held him hard against her, felt his breathing settle back to normal, she prayed to have his baby, so that their love would go on.