Page 28 of The Highlander’s Improper Wife

Jealousy twisted in her belly. Would he confuse her with his next lover? Foolish. She had no right to expect him to bed only her. Even if he learned she was Aphrodite, wanted her to be Aphrodite, over time his passion would wane and he would seek other lovers. No wife expected anything less. Once they produced the required heir, most welcomed being left to their own devices…their own lovers. Caroline closed her eyes. That lover would have been the kilted god. Now, she would have neither husband nor lover.

There had to be a way to keep him from her bed—this night and forever. She tensed against the ache that gripped her at the thought of never again touching him. What choice did she have? Lord Blackhall wasn’t a man who would stand for being cuckolded—even if he was the man doing the cuckolding. He would despise her. How would she live with a man who hated her?

Caroline stilled at a thought. Perhaps Taran would accept a settlement in return for an annulment. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Surely a year’s salary would be enough to pull the estate from ruin while he sought another, more agreeable, wife. Uncle would balk, but with Taran in control of her fortune—her heart sank. Why settle for twenty-five thousand pounds, when he already controlled a fortune well beyond that if he managed the money well? He had two sisters to care for and a father who had determined long ago nothing short of a rich heiress would do for his son.

The new fear that had plagued her all day surfaced. Lord William Edmonds, Viscount of Thornhaven, was a close friend of her husband, and the domino she had dallied with at the masque. The moment he’d spoken, she’d recognized his voice. Her stomach sickened. Over and over, she had replayed their meeting outside her uncle’s townhouse, and had detected no hint of recognition in his manner. Even now, he may have realized who she was. Would he inform Taran of her deception, or demand payment for his silence?

Once the marriage was officially consummated, once she bore Taran a child, there would be no turning back. If Lord Edmonds exposed her—The door swung open.

Caroline shrieked, ducking deeper in the tub and sloshing water over the sides. Taran stood in the doorway, the tailored riding coat and breeches he had worn for the journey replaced by a simple shirt and front breeches.

Her gaze caught on the swelling bulge of his groin and she jerked her gaze back to his face. “I—I will be but a moment longer.”

Amusement twitched at a corner of his mouth. “You will prune.” He stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind him.

She glanced at the swirling water surrounding her. Her breasts bobbed and a dark triangle of hair shadowed between her legs. Places he’d touched, explored and, as her husband, had a right to touch as often as he pleased. Fear clawed at the thin layer of her composure.

“Please, my lord,” she whispered.

He stepped into the room and crossed to the bed while unbuttoning his shirt. “I promise, that will not be the last time you whisper those words tonight.”

“I am not sure this is the right time.”

“It is the perfect time. You are here and already undressed.” “Such consideration,” she snapped.

“I promise to be a very considerate husband.” He paused in unbuttoning the last button and looked at her. “You have nothing to fear, Caroline. I know you have not had a mother’s instruct—”

“I am aware of what happens between a man and a woman.”

His gaze bore into her for an instant and fear shot to the surface before he finally looked away and undid the last button. He shrugged the shirt from his shoulders and Caroline barely stifled a gasp. In the carriage she had felt him, touched him, but without light, she had been unable to fully grasp his perfection. He stood before her now, his broad chest flexing as he reached for the tie on his breeches.

Her cheeks heated with memory of his powerful arms when he’d anchored her to his lap and his thighs as they’d thrust and flexed, plunging his cock deep into her core. He had been hers for a night. And she must make him believe in her purity.

“Are you not hungry, my lord?”

“Supper can wait.” He sat on the bed, grabbed the heel of one boot, and tugged.

“I am famished,” Caroline went on. “If you give me moment, I will dress, and meet you downstairs in the dining room. A hearty supper and some claret will do us good after the long day’s travel.” Plenty of claret, she silently added. She needed him drunk—one way or another.

He paused, a brow raised. “Claret, madam? What would your uncle say?”

She started to reply that she didn’t give a damn what her uncle thought, then recognized the amusement in Taran’s eyes. He returned his attention to his boots and Caroline jumped with the thud of the first boot dropping onto the carpet beside the bed. He reached for the second one, arms flexing with the effort. Her mouth went dry. She was too eager to have those arms around her again. Dear Lord, what was this power he had over her body? Taran pulled the second boot free and dropped it alongside its mate, then rose. Her heartbeat fluttered when he crossed to her and squatted beside the tub.

“Do you fear our joining so much that you would avoid me altogether?” he asked.

The weight of his stare rolled over her flesh. She drew in a shallow breath in an effort to slow her pounding heart. Never had she felt so exposed, vulnerable, afraid of the truth.

“The fear, my lord, is that once our marriage is consummated there is no undoing what is done.”

He dipped a finger into the water and traced a line over the swell of her breast. “A futile concern, Caroline. We have said the vows. There is no retreat.” He drew a gentle circle around her puckered nipple.

She shivered. “But…but what if I am not what you expect?” Her heart whispered what if I am more?

“You are already unexpected.”

“Unexpected—” Caroline stiffened.

His attention remained on the nipple he traced. “While I concede you will more likely than not”—a corner of his mouth turned upward—“vex me during the course of our marriage, I am not displeased.”