The rainy night had yielded to a damp green morning. Leo awakened to the sounds of the carriage yard coming alive with the whicker and jangling and stomping of horses. A muffled clatter of footsteps advanced along the hallways as people left their rooms and went to the tavern for food.

Leo’s favorite part of a romantic rendezvous had always been the moments of anticipation right before lovemaking. His least favorite part had been the morning after, when his first waking thought was how quickly he could leave without causing offense.

This morning, however, was different from any other. He had opened his eyes to discover that he was in bed with Catherine Marks, and there was nowhere else in the world he wanted to be. She was still sleeping deeply, on her side with her hand palm up. Her fingers were curled like the edges of an orchid. She was beautiful in the morning, tumbled and relaxed and sleep-flushed.

His fascinated gaze traveled over her. He had never confided so much in any woman, but he knew that his secrets were safe with her. And hers with him. They were well matched. No matter what happened now, their days of battling were over. They knew too much about each other.

Unfortunately, the question of their betrothal was not at all settled. Leo knew that Cat was not nearly as convinced of the rightness of their match as he was. Furthermore, Harry Rutledge was going to have an opinion about it, and so far Leo had rarely liked his opinions. It was even possible that Harry might encourage Cat in her idea of traveling the Continent.

A frown tugged at Leo’s brow as he pondered how she had gone through life virtually unprotected until now. How could a woman so deserving of affection have received so little? He wanted to make up for everything she had missed. He wanted to give her whatever she had been deprived of. The trick would be convincing her to let him.

Catherine’s face was peaceful, her lips slightly parted. Curled among the white bed linens, a glimpse of her pink shoulder visible, that golden hair streaming everywhere, she looked like a confection placed amid swirls of whipped cream.

There was a disturbance at the foot of the bed as Dodger hoisted himself up to the corner of the mattress and crept along Catherine’s side. She stirred and yawned, and fumbled to pet him. The ferret curled by her hip and closed his eyes.

Catherine awakened slowly, her body lengthening in a trembling stretch. Her lashes lifted. She looked at Leo in bewilderment, clearly wondering why he should be there with her. It was a stare of disarming innocence, those lovely sea-gray eyes contemplating him while her mind collected itself. Hesitantly she reached a cool hand to his cheek, investigating the bristle that had grown during the night. Her voice was low and wondering. “You’re as scratchy as Beatrix’s hedgehog.”

Leo kissed her palm.

Catherine nestled against him cautiously. Her breath stirred the hair on his chest as she asked, “Are we going to London today?”

“Yes.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Do you still want to marry me?” she asked abruptly.

He kept her hand in his. “I’m going to insist on it.”

Her face was angled so that he couldn’t see it. “But … I’m not like Laura.”

Leo was somewhat startled by the comment. “No,” he said frankly. Laura had been the product of a loving family, an idyllic life in a small village. She had known nothing like the fear and pain that had shaped Catherine’s childhood. “You resemble Laura no more than I resemble the boy I was then,” he continued. “How is that relevant?”

“Perhaps you would be better off with someone like her. Someone you—” She stopped herself.

Leo turned and braced himself on an elbow, looking down into myopic blue-gray eyes. “Someone I love?” he finished for her, and watched her frown and chew her lower lip uncertainly. He wanted to gently bite and suck that perfect little mouth as if it were a fresh plum. Instead he traced the edge of her lower lip with a gentle fingertip. “I’ve told you before, I love like a madman,” he said. “Immoderate, jealous, possessive … I’m absolutely intolerable.”

He let the backs of his fingers glide over her chin and along the front of her throat, where he felt the swift tattoo of her heartbeat and the flutter of her swallow. No stranger to the signs of feminine arousal, he slid his palm over the front of her body, skimming the hard bud of her nipple, the curve of her side. “If I loved you, Cat, I would have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You’d never have any peace.”

“I would set limits. And make you heed them.” She drew a sharp breath as he pulled the sheet away from her. “You want a firm hand, that’s all.”

Annoyed by the disturbance, Dodger slid off the bed indignantly and went to hop into Catherine’s carpetbag.

Leo nuzzled the warm curve of her breast and stroked the tip with his tongue. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, catching her hand, drawing it down to his hard flesh.

“I … I didn’t mean…”

“Yes, I know. But I’m a terribly literal-minded person.” He showed her how to grip and stroke him, guiding her in the ways he liked to be touched. They lay together in the warm bed, both of them breathing fast as she explored him with delicate pale fingers. How many times Leo had fantasized about this moment, the prim and prudish Marks naked in bed with him. It was glorious.

Her hand tightened on his stiff length, and the delicious pressure nearly sent him over the edge.

“God … no, no, wait…” He pried her hand away with a gasping laugh.

“Did I do something wrong?” Catherine asked anxiously.

“Not at all, love. But one rather hopes to last more than five minutes, especially before the lady is satisfied.” He reached for her breasts, kneading gently. “How beautiful you are. Bring yourself higher and let me kiss your breast.” As she hesitated, he closed his thumb and forefinger over her nipple in a playful pinch.

She jerked in surprise.

“Too hard?” Leo asked contritely, his gaze intent on her face. “Then do as I asked, and I’ll soothe it.” He didn’t miss her quick double-blink, or the altered rhythm of her breathing. Reaching out, he drew his hands slowly over the slender curves of her body, learning more about her by the second.

“You are intolerable,” she told him unevenly. But she obeyed the encouraging pressure of his palms, and climbed slowly over him. She was light and supple, her skin like silk, the blond thatch of curls brushing crisply against his stomach.

The peak of her breast was already tightly contracted as Leo took it into his mouth. He played with her, dragging the flat of his tongue across the gathered point, relishing the helpless sounds that climbed in her throat.

“Kiss me,” he said, slipping a hand behind her neck, pulling her mouth to his. “And rest your hips on mine.”

“Stop giving orders,” she protested breathlessly.

On impulse, Leo decided to provoke her. He let an arrogant smile touch his lips. “Here in bed, I’m the master. I’ll give orders, and you’ll follow them without question.” He paused deliberately, lifting his brows. “Understood?”

Catherine stiffened. Leo had never enjoyed anything so much as the sight of her struggling between outrage and arousal. He felt the heat rise in her, the excited thrum of her pulse. She took an agitated breath, while gooseflesh rose on her arms. And then her body seemed to lose all its tension, her limbs loosening. “Yes,” she finally whispered, not quite able to meet his gaze.

Leo’s own heartbeat escalated. “Good girl,” he said thickly. “Now spread your thighs so I can feel you against me.”

Gradually the angle of her legs widened.

She looked dazed, a little lost, her gaze turning inward as if to contemplate the puzzle of her own reactions to him. Her eyes glittered, an involuntary welling of pleasure and confusion, and the sight sent a tide of lust through him. He wanted to fulfill her beyond imagining, discover and satisfy every need.

“Put your hand beneath your breast,” he said, “and bring it to my mouth.”

She leaned over him to obey, trembling. And then he was the one who was lost, fiercely absorbed in the sweet softness of her. He lost awareness of everything but instinct, the primitive intent to claim, conquer, possess.

He made her kneel over him, and he followed the intoxicating salt-scented moisture to the tender entrance of her body. Delving with his tongue, he traced and licked until he felt the long, fine muscles of her thighs tightening rhythmically.

With a hoarse murmur, Leo eased her away and helped her to straddle his hips. He fit himself against the soft slit and clasped her waist to steady her. She quivered as she understood what he wanted.

“Slowly,” he murmured as she eased onto him. “All the way down.” He barely managed to stifle an agonized groan as he felt her clenching around him, her swollen flesh working to pull him inside. Nothing had ever felt so good. “Oh, sweet Jesus … take it all.”

“I can’t.” She writhed and went still, looking disgruntled.

It was inconceivable that Leo should have found any amusement in the moment, when his body was tortured with desire. But she was so adorably awkward astride him. Somehow managing to repress a laugh, Leo put his shaking hands on her, arranging and stroking. “You can,” he said huskily. “Put your hands on my shoulders, and lean your sweet little body forward.”

“It’s too much.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“I’m the experienced one. You’re the novice, remember?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re too … oh.”

Somewhere in the midst of their debate, he had pressed upward the last crucial distance, and their bodies slid together fully.

“Oh,” she said again, her eyes half closing, new color sweeping over her.

Leo felt an explosive climax rolling up to him, requiring only a hint of stimulation to reach irresistible momentum. Catherine’s body tightened around him, a voluptuously contained rhythm that threatened to drive him mad. She moved tentatively, the tender friction causing them both to shudder.

“Cat, wait,” he whispered through dry lips.

“I can’t, I can’t…” She moved again, and he arched as if on a torture rack.

“Be still.”

“I’m trying.” But she had begun to rock against him instinctively, and he groaned and took up the rhythm, watching her lips parting with delighted gasps, and as he felt the spasms overtake her, the sensations rushed too powerfully for him to withstand.

With a herculean effort, Leo withdrew and spilled his pleasure on the sheets, while his breath hissed through his clenched teeth. Every muscle screamed in protest at being deprived of the lush warmth that had enclosed him. Panting, blinking against a shower of sparks, Leo felt Catherine curl up against him.

One of her hands came to the center of his chest, pressing over his pounding heart. She pressed her lips to his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to stop,” she whispered.

“Neither did I.” He wrapped his arms around her, and smiled ruefully against her hair. “But that’s the problem with coitus interruptus. One always has to exit at the station before one’s final destination.”