"It's lovely," India finally spoke, "and you have put everything away, bless you, Meggie."

"Everything? Nay, not by any means, my lady. Diarmid and me will be busy unpacking those baggage carts for days," the maidservant said. "Let me take your gown now. You'll want a bit of a liedown before supper, I'm thinking."

"I want a bath," India asked. "I cannot change from my riding clothes into another dress smelling of horses."

"There's many that does," Meggie observed. "I've never known such a one for washing as yerself, my lady."

"I'd rather smell of flowers than stink of my own sweat," India replied. "Water is good for the skin. It keeps it soft, and you want to keep that wild highlander of yours by your side, don't you, Meggie. I saw some pretty little faces in the hall below."

"And let one of them try to make free with my husband," Meggie said, glowering, "and I'll snatch the trollop bald!"

India laughed, and then she sobered, realizing that she had felt the very same way about Caynan Reis. She very much doubted if she would feel that strongly about Deverall Leigh. Still, she was married to him, and would have to make the best of it, especially if she was to regain her son, Rowan. She had already begun by telling him she had been previously married. He had not, thank God, asked if she had had any children. She was not ready to share that with him. He might very well be glad she had not brought her child, not wanting another man's son in his house to raise. No. I must gain his favor and trust before I mention my child to this man, she thought with surety. He does not look sympathetic, or easily led.

She had a leisurely bath, and then napped for a short time. Awakening, she allowed Meggie to dress her in cream-colored silk brocade trimmed in lace, the gown prepared for the church ceremony here at Oxton. It was to take place this evening in the estate church. The earl had said that he wanted the official formalities celebrated immediately. Meggie affixed the Stars of Kashmir about her neck, and slipped the ear bobs into her ears. India touched them wonderingly. What history they held!

She descended the staircase to find him awaiting her. "The church is but a short walk," he said, handing her a nosegay of sweet white flowers and offering her his arm.

Outside, the sun was setting to the west over the Malvern Hills. To the east, the moon was rising. It was very still, and only the faintest breeze ruffled her curls.

The little stone church was filled with the servants, including Meggie and Diarmid. It was softly lit with beeswax candles. The minister greeted them, and announced to the assembled that, as the earl of Oxton and his bride had accepted the proxy marriage celebrated at Glenkirk on the thirtieth day of May, in the year of our Lord sixteen hundred and twenty-eight, they were legally and lawfully wed. Now, tonight, on this eighteenth day of July, he would give the blessing in God's name, on behalf of His Majesty, the king. The couple knelt, and the minister intoned, " 'Those whom God hath joined together, let no man rent asunder. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.' "

"Amen!" the congregation replied.

"Now, my lord," the minister said, his eyes twinkling, "you are quite free to kiss your bride."

India's eyes widened as his lips brushed her coolly. Kiss? She hadn't thought of kissing. And lovemaking! Oh, my God! In her anger and her eagerness to escape Glenkirk, she had put from her head these more intimate matters. About her, the assembled cheered, and the earl led her from the church.

"You are surprised I kissed you," he said as they walked back to the house.

"It was hardly a kiss, my lord," she replied. "More like a butterfly brushing my lips."

"Passion should be a private matter between a man and his wife, madame," he said reprovingly. "I could hardly avoid the formality when the Reverend Master Barton was encouraging me to it so publicly, and in such a loud voice. We would have disappointed the servants."

"If I asked for a respite from your company tonight so I might recover from my journey, would we disappoint the servants?" she asked him boldly.

"You would disappoint me," he told her. "Besides, you had several days in your brothers' company at Queen's Malvern to regain your strength, madame."

"I am not ready yet for a man in my bed," India said frankly.

"Why?"

She stumbled, but he caught her up before she might fall. "I don't know really. I just know I am not."

"Obviously, your experience with men is slight," he said quietly, "but I am ready to have a wife in my bed, madame, and you are that wife. You are merely shy, which speaks well of your character. I am no monster." And I cannot wait to have you in my arms again, you false bitch, he thought to himself. You will yield yourself to me whether you will or no. I have spent months dreaming of this night, and you will not deny me, India. You will never deny me again!

It had all gone as he had expected so far. She had not recognized the earl of Oxton as the dey of El Sinut. Why should she? The earl of Oxton had short, dark hair, a rather sinister scar marking his face, and was clean-shaven, which gave his high cheekbones and jaw a totally different look. He spoke English. The dey of El Sinut had had a close-cropped dark black beard that fringed his jaw and encircled itself sensuously about his mouth and chin. His skin was bronzed from the hot sun. He spoke French to her in a soft voice, the voice of a lover in the language of love. But when he made love to her tonight, it would not be as the dey of El Sinut had made love to her, all sweetness and passion. It would be as the earl of Oxton would make love to his wife.

He was yet angry with her. How could she have left him after declaring her love for him? When she was ripening with their child? Adrian had given him the answer when he had said India's loyalty to her family was greater than any other loyalty. If he had not been forced to flee El Sinut himself, he might have never found her again. And where was their child? He would, of course, have to reveal himself to her eventually if he was to regain custody of his child, but for the moment, he intended taking his revenge upon her. He could not believe her so insensitive that she would have left the child in danger of any kind. There was time. And did he have a son or a daughter?

They ate dinner in the little family hall. There were but the two of them. There were raw oysters brought to the earl which he swallowed with relish, his eyes making deliberate contact with hers at one point, and she blushed to her dismay. There was a small roast of beef; a duck stuffed with fruit and rice in a sauce of wine and plums; a lovely broiled trout set upon a bed of braised lettuce, surrounded by carved lemons, an extravagance; a bowl of tiny new peas, and another of little carrots; fresh bread, sweet butter, and half a wheel of hard, sharp cheese.

He watched her nibbling unenthusiastically at a slice of beef, a spoonful of carrots, some bread. "You are not hungry?" he asked.

"It is all very good, and well prepared," India quickly said, sipping upon her second goblet of rich red wine. "My appetite has been poor of late, I fear, my lord. Food upon the road is often not of the best quality, even at the finest inns."

"When you have finished, then," he told her, "you may go to your chamber and prepare yourself for me, madame."

She practically leapt from her place, and, curtseying to him, fled the hall.

He smiled wolfishly watching her go. India was not a woman to admit to fear, but she was afraid, and he knew it.

She could feel his eyes, those cold blue eyes, boring into her back as she went. God's blood! What kind of a man was he to insist on bedding her immediately? True, they were man and wife, but they had met but a few hours ago. They knew virtually nothing about each other. Then, in a flash, she understood. If the marriage were consummated, she could not demand an annulment. After all, had she not told him quite bluntly that marriage to him had not been her choice? He, of course, would want to take no chances with losing her dowry, or a rich wife who controlled her own wealth but could undoubtedly be cozened into parting with some, or all of it. Men! They were so obvious. He was no different from the rest, but then, she had not expected that he would be.

She was no virgin to be terrified of a man's love lance. As for her husband, he would probably assert his rights in a brusque and perfunctory manner, then return to his own bedchamber. She wasn't the first woman to be in such a position, nor would she be the last. It would have been nice if they might have gotten to know each other a bit before coupling, but so be it.

"You looked so lovely in that candlelit church, m'lady," Meggie said, taking the Stars of Kashmir from her mistress and replacing them in their case. "I've laid out a lovely nightdress for you." She bustled about, taking India's garments, shaking and brushing them, and putting them neatly away. "The earl seems a pleasant gentleman."

"Aye," she said.

" 'Tis a terrible scar he wears on his face, poor man," Meggie noted. "I wonder how he got it. He don't seem the type of gentleman to get into a brawl. Mayhap it were an accident."

India took the soft flannel cloth that had been laid out, and sponged herself off with the warm, scented water Meggie had put in a silver ewer. Then she scrubbed her teeth with the cloth, rinsing her mouth with minted water. She slipped behind the painted screen in the corner of her dressing room, and, sitting on her commode, relieved herself, washing herself afterwards. Finally she pulled off her chemise, and Meggie slipped the rose-colored nightdress lavishly edged in lace over her head.

"Find your own bed now, Meggie," India said quietly, and, taking up her silver hairbrush, she sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her long, dark curls, as, with a curtsey, Meggie hurried out the bedchamber door. India smiled after her. Meggie was obviously finding married life with Diarmid a pleasant thing. She looked about the room again, admiring the serenity and order of it. The fireplace burned brightly, and but for the two candles on the nightstand there was no other light. Meggie had drawn the draperies closed. The room was comfortably warm, and she could smell the heady scent of the roses from the bowl on the table.

A small door in the paneled wall opened, and the earl stepped through into the room. To her complete surprise, he was naked. "Remove your nightdress," he said quietly as the door behind him closed. "Unless you are suffering your woman's cycle, are greatly advanced with child, or I tell you I will not be visiting your bed, you will always sleep naked, India, as do I. Do you understand me?" Then he stood watching as she removed her garment, nodding in answer to his question. "Good," he said. His eyes swept over her. "You have a beautiful body, madame."

She was nonplussed. She certainly hadn't expected him to behave in such a manner. It was very disconcerting.

Reaching out, he put his hands about her waist and turned her, drawing her back against his hard body. A single hand clamped over her right breast. His lips touched her shoulder, scattering a row of kisses across the warm flesh, even as his fingers crushed and marked the skin of her full breast.

She couldn't breathe. Her chest felt tight. His actions were not what she had anticipated at all. She could sense the lust beneath his careful deeds. He frankly frightened her. He was obviously dangerous. He was her husband, and she was at his mercy. India struggled against her own fright. She knew she must not show any fear with this man, but when he pushed a finger between her lips and into her mouth, she could not prevent a gasp of surprise.

"Lick it!" The two words were snapped into her ear sharply.

After a moment's hesitation, her tongue reached out and touched the finger. Slowly she encircled the digit several times. It was long and thick, and very suggestive of another member of his body.

"Suck it!" His hand opened, then slipped beneath her breast, cupping it. His thumb began to rub against her nipple.

India could feel her heart hammering in her ears. She drew on the finger within her mouth over and over again while his hand fondled her breast hungrily, and her nipples puckered like frosted flower buds.