Dunford chuckled at her squirmings. "You're going to get a burn from the carpet," he teased.

Henry looked at him blankly, her brain so hazy with passion it took her a few moments to process his words. He laughed again and rolled off her, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the plush bed. "I know I said the bed would be a big mistake," he murmured, "but I can't have you rubbing your back raw, can I?"

She felt herself sinking into the bed, and then he was on top of her again, the heat of him scorching her skin. His hand immediately stole down her body, back to her womanhood, where it teased and tickled, pushing her further and further toward oblivion. He slipped his finger inside of her, his thumb continuing to pleasure the sensitized nub of flesh. He flicked back and forth, back and forth...

"Dunford," Henry gasped. "I... you..."

His weight was pressing her into the mattress. He was hard and hot, and she couldn't control her body as her legs wrapped around his.

"My God, Henry," he groaned. "You're so ready. So... I didn't want to... I never intended..."

Henry was beyond caring what he had intended. All she wanted was the man in her arms—the man she loved. And she wanted all of him. She pressed her hips upward, cradling his insistent hardness.

Something within him snapped, and his fingers left her as he furiously tore off his breeches. "Hen," he moaned, "I need you. Now." His hands were on her breasts, then her backside, then her hips. They seemed to move with lightning swiftness, driven by a determination to touch every last inch of her silken skin.

He gently gripped her firmly muscled inner thighs and slid them further open. The tip of his manhood touched her, and he groaned at the wet heat of it.

"Henry, I... I..." His lips couldn't form the rest of the question, but she could see it in his eyes.

She nodded.

He moved gently forward, her soft skin resisting this new invasion.

"Shhhh," he murmured. "Relax."

Henry nodded. She'd never dreamed a man would feel this large within her. It felt good...but so very strange.

"Henry," he whispered, his face set into lines of concern. "This may hurt. But only for a moment. If I could—"

She touched his cheek. "I know."

He surged forward, sheathing himself completely within her. Henry stiffened at the sudden flash of pain.

He immediately held himself still, holding his weight off her by supporting himself on his elbows. "Did I hurt you?" he asked urgently.

She shook her head. "Not really. I just...It's all better now."

"Are you certain, Henry? Because I could pull out." His face clearly told her that such an option would be the worst sort of torture.

Her lips curved into a small smile. "All I need is for you to kiss me." She watched as his mouth slowly descended. "Just kiss me."

He did. His lips devoured hers as his body began to move—gently at first, then with an increasing rhythm. He was losing control, and he needed her to experience the same abandon. He moved his hand between their bodies and touched her.

She exploded.

The feeling began in her belly, then her body grew stiff as a board. She gasped, thinking that her muscles could not take this tension, that they would surely splinter—and then, miraculously, she went limp, her entire body warm and tingly yet utterly relaxed.

Her head lolled to the side and her eyelids drooped shut, but she could feel Dunford's intent gaze on her face. He was looking at her—she knew that as surely as she knew her name—and his eyes were telling her how much he loved her. "I love you, too," she sighed.

Dunford hadn't thought he could possibly feel any more tender toward her than he already did, but her soft declaration of love was like a warm kiss placed directly on his heart. He wasn't sure what precisely he had intended when he came to her room. He supposed subconsciously he had wanted to make love to her, but he had never dreamed he would feel this much happiness from pleasuring her.

He held himself above her, content for the moment just to watch her as her soul floated back down to earth. And then slowly—and with great regret—he pulled himself from her body.

Her eyes flew open.

"I don't want to get you with child," he whispered. "At least not yet. When the time comes, I shall derive the utmost satisfaction from seeing you heavy and round."

Henry shuddered, his words strangely erotic.

He leaned down, kissed her nose, and reached for his clothing.

She reached for him. "Please don't go."

He touched her forehead, brushing aside a silky lock of hair. "I wish I didn't have to," he murmured. "I hadn't really intended to do this, although"—he smiled wryly—"I can't say I'm sorry I did."

"But you didn't—"

"It'll have to wait, darling." He kissed her gently, unable to help himself. "For our wedding night. I want it to be perfect."

She was so languid she could barely move, yet somehow she managed a small yet cheeky grin. "It would be perfect no matter what."

"Mmm, I know, but I'd also like to make certain that any new arrivals to our family don't arrive any sooner than nine months after our wedding. I won't have your reputation besmirched."

She didn't much care about her reputation at that moment, but for his sake she nodded understanding. "Will you be all right?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. "In a few hours perhaps."

She reached out to touch him in sympathy but pulled her hand away when he shook his head and said, "Better not."