The invitation was so shockingly blatant it took his breath away. Locked his lungs, his whole body, with the urge to react.

She lifted her lids, met his gaze. Raised her brows. "If you feel up to it."

He couldn't help it — he laughed, relaxing on the pillows. She grinned, and went to slide off him.

His arms didn't move; he held her where she was. He caught the flash of awareness that showed briefly in her eyes. Realized why she'd made him laugh — to ease the tension that had hardened his body, and made his strength — the promise of it, the threat of it — so much more overt. He was a great deal stronger than she was.

He noted her reaction for future reference; noted the need to go carefully until he knew which side of the coin she preferred. He didn't, yet, know her well enough to guess, but after last night…

Her tongue passed over her lower lip; her eyes, bright, eager yet unsure, returned to his. "Can we do it like this?"

He smiled, slowly. "Oh, yes."

She raised her brows, her own lips curving. "How, then? Show me."

Locking his eyes on hers, he ran his hands down from her waist, over her hips, then down to close over the backs of her thighs. He tugged them up, drew her knees to his sides. Leaving them there, he clamped his hands on her hips, and eased her down his torso, fraction by fraction, until he — and she — felt the marrying touch of their bodies.

He'd assumed she'd already be aroused; she didn't disappoint him. The entrance to her body was already slick, swollen soft; he guided her a fraction lower, until he could nudge into the wet heat, then he stopped.

"Put your hands on my chest and gradually sit up."

She obeyed. The look on her face as she realized what would happen — what naturally did happen — was priceless. Halfway up, astride, half-impaled, she looked down at him, eyes widening as she realized she could control the speed at which she took him in. That she would be in control.

Then her lids fell, her arms locked, her knees clasped his sides. She slowly eased down, taking him in, more, and yet more, experimenting at the last, shifting on him until she'd taken him all.

He could barely breathe, but he met her gaze when, muscles clamped about him, perched upon him, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"What now?"

A laugh, even a pained chuckle, was out of the question. He was hanging on to his demons, and their need to ravish her, by a thread. "Now you ride."

She blinked, then her gaze cleared and she tried it.

And found it very much to her liking.

That was obvious from the soft sounds that poured from her throat as she let herself slide down upon him, from the delight in her face when she rose, only to sink down and take him again.

Amelia decided this was bliss. Sheer, unadulterated bliss. No morning in her life had ever been like this one, filled with discovery, filled with promise. She gave herself up to both, to learning all she could, experiencing all she could, to pleasuring herself, and him.

She enjoyed it. As much as she'd exulted last night, this, watching his face from beneath her lashes as she rode him, used her body to caress him, feeling him rampant inside her, filling her, stroking smoothly and deep, all at her command, was heaven indeed.

The morning sun rose, shining down on a rain-washed world. It shone in through the windows, across the bed. Fell across her and him, its gentle warmth a subtle benediction.

He'd raised his hands to her breasts, caressing, fondling; now they trailed away, down, tracing the curves and lines of her body, his eyes following, his attention that of a connoisseur assessing a new acquisition. An acquisition that gave him real pleasure; she didn't doubt that as the fever rose and spread beneath her skin and his face hardened with desire. His hands returned to her breasts, their touch harder, more demanding, then he shifted beneath her, half-rising, one hand at her back urging her forward so he could close his mouth over one tight nipple.

His suction there connected in some fashion she didn't understand with the slide of his body into hers. Heat built steadily until her fingers curled, trapping hairs on his chest. The hand at her back stroked down, over her fevered flesh to close about her hip.

And guide her. He limited her movement and instead moved with her, under her, thrusting into her willing body in a powerful, rolling rhythm that, this time, she was a party to. She adjusted to his beat; he continued feasting as she moved at his behest upon him.

The tempo built, and built, until she thought her heart would burst. That the tension coiling inside her would explode.

Then it did, shattering into shards of sensation and wonder, purest heat flowing away, under her skin, behind her lids. Pooling deep within.

He fell back, both hands closing about her hips as he ruthlessly held her down, held her so he penetrated her most deeply.

Luc lay on the pillows, chest heaving, and waited, teeth gritted, holding tight to every impulse he possessed, and watched her, watched her climax flow through her, savored her body's clasp as she closed tight about him, waited on the edge of oblivion until every last contraction faded.

The remnants of tension drained from her, and she slumped onto his chest. He held her to him and rolled, pressing her deep into the pillows.

Pressing deep into her.

Despite her satiation, she opened her eyes, blinked. He moved within her and she roused within seconds, matching him with a simple eagerness, an open giving, that made him shudder. He found her lips. They parted under his and she welcomed him in. They moved together, the pillows cocoon-ing them in a world of their own.

A world of sensation untrammeled, a green field where the power flowed freely. The power that drove their mating, that, as before, tempted and promised an unstinting reward.

They took it, grasped it, let it possess them — let it fill them.

To bursting point. He drew away from the kiss long enough to gasp, "Your legs — wrap them about my waist."

She obeyed immediately. He groaned as he drove into her, deep toward her heart.

The power fused them. Rushed over them in a wave and took them both. Completely. Absolutely.

He yielded without question, knew she did the same. Heard her sweet cry as she tumbled into the void. He followed swiftly, holding her tight.

And knew in that instant of startling clarity that she, and that power, had become the linchpin of his life.

Chapter 14

That revelation did not buoy his confidence. Some hours later, sitting in the breakfast parlor staring unseeing at the latest news sheet from London propped against the coffeepot before him, Luc had to wonder what madness had brought him to this. Not just married, but married to a Cynster.

It wasn't as if he could claim ignorance; he'd only known her all her life.

Yet here he was, on the morning after his wedding night, feeling as if he was the one in need of gentle reassurance. He stifled a snort, forced his eyes to focus on the print. His mind refused to make sense of the words.

It wasn't his sexual prowess that was in question. Or, indeed, hers. He didn't, in fact, know what his problem was — why he felt the need to tread warily, even gingerly, in this landscape that, despite being so familiar, had, since their wedding, subtly altered.

At least his mother had taken his sisters — all four of them — to London for the week, leaving him and Amelia blessedly alone to settle into married life. The thought of facing Portia and Penelope over the breakfast cups while he was in this less-than-certain state made him shudder.

He raised his cup, took a long sip, and tossed aside the news sheet.

Just as Amelia walked in.

He hadn't expected her to join him; he'd left her — he'd thought exhausted — a warm bundle in their bed.

She breezed in, wearing a delicate lavender sprigged gown; she smiled cheerily. "Good morning."

He nodded, hiding his surprise behind his cup. She turned to the sideboard; Cottsloe bustled up to hold her plate while she made her selections. Leaving the butler to pour and follow with her tea, she swept to the table.

To the chair on his right.

A footman hurried to hold it for her. She smiled and sat, thanking the footman, then Cottsloe sunnily.

At a look from Luc, Cottsloe and the footman effaced themselves. Luc returned his gaze to his wife. And her piled plate. The wifely duties she'd most recently been discharging had clearly given her an appetite.

"I expect you'll be busy this morning, catching up with business?" She glanced at him as she picked up her fork.

He nodded. "There are always urgent matters to catch up with immediately I return here."

"You spend most of the year here, don't you? Other than the Season, and later in the year?"

"Yes. I don't usually go up until the end of September, at the earliest, and try to get back by late November."

"For the shooting?"

"More so I can oversee the preparations for winter and the hunting."

Amelia nodded. Rutlandshire and neighboring Leicestershire were prime hunting country. "I suspect we'll have any number of visitors in February."

"Indeed." Luc shifted. "Speaking of riding, I must get off soon, but if you want me—"

"No, no — all's well. Your mother spoke with both me and Higgs before we left London, so we know where we are." She smiled. "It was sweet of her to hand over the reins so cleanly."

Luc humphed. "She's been waiting to hand them to someone she trusts for years."

He hesitated, then reached out and caught Amelia's hand. She laid down her fork; he raised her fingers to his lips. His gaze on her eyes, he kissed her fingertips, then, curling his fingers around them, rose, pushing back his chair and stepping around the table, returning her hand to her with the words, "I'm sure my household will be in good hands." He paused, then added, "I'll be back for luncheon."

Whether her hands would prove to be "good" or not, she didn't know, but they were well trained and eager. This was what she'd been born, raised, and trained for, to manage a gentleman's home.

Higgs appeared as she was finishing her tea. She returned the housekeeper's beaming smile. "Perfect timing. Shall we start with the menus?"

"Indeed, ma'am, if you will."

From previous visits, she knew the house reasonably well. "We'll use the parlor off the music room." She rose.

Higgs followed her into the hall. "You wouldn't rather use your own sitting room, ma'am?"

"No. I intend keeping that private." Completely private.

The parlor off the music room was a small chamber filled with morning light. It contained a comfortable chaise and two armchairs covered in chintz, and an escritoire against the wall, just as Amelia had recalled. She crossed to the escritoire and the spindle-legged chair before it; as she'd suspected, the escritoire held some paper and a few pencils, but clearly hadn't been used in years. Even better, it had a lock with a key.

"This will do nicely for my desk." Sitting, she searched the papers for a clean sheet, then examined the pencils. "I'll get some better things shortly, but this will do for today." She smiled at Higgs and nodded toward the nearest armchair. "Pull that closer and sit, and let's get started."

Despite knowing the theory, despite having sat with her mother through innumerable household meetings, she was nevertheless grateful for Higgs's experienced common sense, and the woman's blatant support.

"Duck with cherries would be a wise choice to go with the rest. Now we have the werewithal to be a touch more extravagant, it only seems fair to give the master his due. Duck with cherries is one of his favorites."

Amelia added the dish to her dinner menu. Higgs's mention of the family's improved circumstances hadn't escaped her. Higgs had to have been practicing the most severe economies for years; Luc had been right to inform her there was no longer any need. "Can we add crème brulee, do you think? It should round things off nicely."

Higgs nodded. "A good choice, ma'am."

"Excellent — so that's done." Amelia set down her pencil and handed the sheet to Higgs. The housekeeper scanned it, then placed it in her apron pocket.

"Now, is there anything else I should know?" Amelia caught Higgs's eye. "Anything less than satisfactory about the house or the staff? Any difficulty that needs dealing with?"