hard on the practical task, trying to ignore the delicate curve of her breast as she stepped out of her shift, trying to blot from his sight the luscious arch of her hips, the long, pure, tempting line of her bare leg. He had been quite enough of a brute keeping her downstairs in the parlor, cold and filthy, while they talked. He felt racked with remorse. The best way to make it up to her, he thought, was to see her safely into bed, make sure she was wrapped up warm and tight so that she did not catch an ague, and then retire to the taproom for a long, frustrated wakeful night alone and Mrs. Morton’s impotence aids be damned. This was no time to be thinking of ravishing Merryn. He would wait until she was recovered from her ordeal, wait until they were wed, wait until he had the marriage lines and they were respectable as the Duke and Duchess of Farne. He looked at Merryn as she rolled the stockings down her legs and felt the heat rise over his body, felt the color sting his cheeks and his eyes burn and he turned away so that she did not see the evidence of his arousal.
A hipbath stood in the corner, the scented water steaming. It smelled divine of lavender and herbs and he heard Merryn give a little greedy moan. She skipped across the room, all rosy skin gleaming in the firelight, and slipped beneath the water with a sigh of pure physical pleasure. Garrick gritted his teeth hard and turned his back. Unfortunately that brought the wide bed into view, with its fresh white sheets turned down so very invitingly. Garrick stomped across to the window and stared out into the snowswept darkness. That was better; a cold winter night should chill his ardor.
There were splashes, more sighs of bliss and then Merryn’s voice, deceptively innocent. “Garrick, please could you help me wash my hair? I cannot reach …”
With a tortured sigh Garrick turned back and walked across to the bath, dropping to his knees beside her. Her skin was pink from the heat of the water now. Her shoulders gleamed wet and pale in the firelight, the shadows leading down to the hollow between her breasts and lower. Garrick’s mouth dried to sawdust. He wrenched his gaze away so violently it hurt.
Merryn placed one hand on his arm, compelling him to look at her. Slowly, very slowly, her blue gaze came up and met his. Her eyes were burning as deep and rich as sapphires with a flame in their depths. The moment spun out like a golden thread between them and Garrick thought he had never been so aware of her, of every inch of her beautiful body begging for his touch. And then she smiled at him and his heart expanded under the radiance of it and she held out her arms to him and he swept her up out of the water and laid her down before the fire, following her down. For a while they lay there, his breath shortening, his arms about her, his palms flat against the smooth skin of her back. Then she gave a little sigh and raised her lips to his and he kissed her with passion and hunger, as though he were starved. Her hands were moving over him now, tugging at his shirt, eager and clumsy with haste. She pressed her lips to the point of his shoulder and bit down, making him groan, then feathered tiny kisses across his chest and lower over the taut skin of his belly. She was all quicksilver and fire and impatience, fumbling with the fastenings of his breeches. They defeated her and she made a soft sound of irritation and he covered her hands with his, showing her how it was done. He kissed her again, the passion and greed easing into tenderness, running his hands into her hair, nipping at her throat and lower to her breast, tugging the nipple to a tight aching peak. Her eyes were closed, her breathing quick and sharp as she held him, digging her fingers into the hard muscles of his shoulders, sliding her hands down his naked back. He kissed the hollow of her throat and the cleft between her breasts. She tasted sweet as honey with the tang of salt still faintly on her skin and he licked the underside of her breast up to the nipple and heard her moan. He watched the play of the firelight over her skin, stroking her in graceful curves, tracing the lines of her body until she arched beneath his touch.
“I love you,” he said, kissing her again with aching gentleness and saw her smile. She reached up and touched his face.
“Garrick, my love …”
He carried her to the bed and laid her down on the cool white sheets, kissing her belly, gently parting her so that she lay naked, open and spread to him. With shaking hands he cast off the rest of his clothes and came over her and slid into her with triumphant tenderness. Now at last there were no shadows to darken their lovemaking and no secrets between them. Garrick poured out his love for her and felt Merryn meet it and return it, matching his movements with her own, wider, deeper, faster, stroke for stroke, equal at last until they plunged into brilliant ecstasy and he claimed her at last in all love and honor. They slid into the deepest and most peaceful of sleeps and Garrick wrapped his arms about Merryn and knew he would never let her go.
IT WAS ALMOST NOON when Merryn woke and then it was only because it sounded as though the inn was in complete uproar. She bent over to kiss Garrick softly and he murmured in his sleep, his mouth curving into a smile of love and gentleness. They had made love again and again through the night, Garrick possessing her with a triumphant passion that had awed her to her soul.
The sounds from the inn courtyard became louder and more chaotic still. Throwing on her nightdress—and how had that come to be left in so tangled a heap on the floor—Merryn hurried to the window and stared out.
The courtyard was in chaos with no less than six coaches all busily disgorging people, portmanteaux, servants, silver, furniture, wall hangings, brightly wrapped presents and one small white dog. Merryn gasped.
“Darlings!” Joanna appeared beneath the window, staring up. Behind her stood Alex with Shuna in his arms. A crimson hood framed Joanna’s face. There were snowflakes in her hair. She looked, Merryn thought, like a fairy princess. Merryn, her hair tousled, her feet bare, wearing no more than a crumpled robe, immediately felt shabby. Garrick came to stand behind her, dropping a kiss on her hair.
“I am so pleased that you are here!” Joanna called. “Are you wed yet?”
There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs and then the door burst open. With great presence of mind, Garrick scooped Merryn up and tossed her back into the bed, sliding in beside her. A moment later Tess stood in the doorway. Behind her was Alex, Shuna and the Duchess of Steyne, her tiny upright figure wrapped in the most extraordinary traveling furs. Then a tall, dark and shockingly handsome man appeared. Merryn thought he looked vaguely familiar. She heard Garrick gasp.
“Ethan?” he said, and Merryn heard the uncertainty and the pleasure in his voice, the hesitation of a man who had been accustomed so long to being alone and now could not quite believe what was happening to him. A dark-haired woman ran into the room and threw herself against Garrick’s naked chest, planting a kiss on his lips in a way that made Merryn feel absurdly possessive.
“Garrick darling, I never had the chance to thank you,” the woman said. She spun around on Merryn, catching her in her arms.
“Merryn!” she said. “You lucky, lucky girl!”
“Lottie!” Merryn said, dazed. “What on earth—”
“I sent for them,” Joanna said. She had appeared in the crowded room now. She was looking slightly sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said.
Garrick grabbed Merryn’s hand in his. “Of course not,” he said. “But …”
His face, Merryn thought, was a perfect reflection of everything that she was feeling: bewilderment, astonishment and dawning joy.
“But I don’t understand,” Merryn said. “What are you all doing here?”
“We have come to celebrate your wedding, of course,” Joanna said. “And then we thought we might travel on to Dorset and open up Fenners for Christmas.” She looked at Garrick. “Did you not tell her that we planned to follow you down?” she asked.
“I apologize,”
