«Must be the brandy.»

«I don’t think so, my lord. I think it’s your hands. I didn’t know anything could feel so wonderful.»

«Are you sure? A moment ago you couldn’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain.»

«I’m sure.» The sound Jessica made was more like a soft moan than a sigh. «It’s like fire without pain, a pleasure that goes to the center of my bones.»

Wolfe’s breath caught before it came out in a soundless rush of air, for what she was describing was the essence of true passion.

«Yes,» he whispered. «It’s like that, fire without pain.»

For long minutes, there was no sound in the room but the subtle whisper of flame and the glide of Wolfe’s palms over Jessica’s rose-scented skin. When his hands continued past her waist to her hips, she didn’t notice for a few moments. Then her body stiffened.

«Wolfe?»

«You have sore muscles here, too,» he said matter-of-factly.

«Yes, but —»

«Hush, Jessi,» Wolfe interrupted firmly. «Pretend I’m still working on your shoulders.»

«But you aren’t!»

«That’s where the pretending comes in.»

For a time there was a silence that was like the flesh Wolfe was kneading — silky, taut, quivering with possibilities.

«You’re not pretending.»

«How do you know?» Jessica retorted.

«The parrot told me.»

She giggled, then giggled some more, imagining a parrot darting brightly about the room telling secrets.

«I’m muzzled,» she said after a moment.

«On that little bit of brandy? I doubt it.»

«I’m a little bit myself, remember? You’ve said so often enough.»

Not everywhere, Wolfe thought silently, sinking his fingers into Jessica’s resilientflesh.Thereare parts of my self that are quite lush.

Jessica’s breath broke on a ragged sigh.

«Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rough,» Wolfe said, smoothing his palm over the tender curve of her bottom. «Perhaps more oil…»

«You weren’t rough,» Jessica said lazily.

«Then why did you make that small sound?»

«I didn’t.» She smiled. «The parrot did. It’s muzzled, too.»

«A drunken parrot. The mind reels.»

«More like the stomach.»

«On a sip of brandy? Impossible.»

«Then it must be the butterflies.»

«What butterflies?»

«The ones in my stomach. Every time you touch me a certain way, they whirl around like leaves on the wind.»

Jessica giggled again, then gasped softly when Wolfe’s thumbs drew deeply beneath the curves of her buttocks, skimming the place where herthighswere pressed together.

«Like that?» he asked, his voice husky.

«Y-yes.»

«Then I’ll do this, instead.»

Jessica’s breath unraveled in broken sounds as Wolfe’s lean, strong fingers kneaded down the back of her thighs to her knees. A curious, boneless feeling stole over her, a combination of brandy and the shimmering warmth of Wolfe’s hands smoothing oil and pleasure into her skin. Without realizing it, she groaned softly and relaxed the tension that had kept her legs pressed together.

Wolfe took one look at the dark mahogany shadow her relaxation had revealed and locked his jaw against a sound of passionate need. Very quickly he looked away, concentrating on the slender legs that lay beneath his hands. But here, too, Jessica’s femininity was obvious in each satin curve of thigh and calf, in the unblemished silk of skin never before seen by any man, and in the shivering response that rippled through her when he caressed the sensitive crease behind each knee.

«Roll over, little one.»

Bemused by unexpected lassitude, Jessica responded to the gentle command. She didn’t stop to think of her nudity until she felt the caress of fur from her nape to her ankles. Her eyes opened slowly, then closed once more when Wolfe dropped the soft flannel blanket over her, covering her from breasts to mid-thigh. She sighed and snuggled more deeply into the fur with slow movements of her hips.

Wolfe looked away with a soundless curse at his own foolishness in offering himself such a temptation. But his dark glance came back again, drawn inevitably by the small movements of Jessica’s hips, the swell of her breasts, and the telltale rigidity of her nipples.

«Warm enough?» he asked in a husky voice.

Jessica nodded slowly.

«How do you feel?»

«Like a mitten…being unraveled.»

Wolfe’s smile was as hot as the blood surging through his veins, but Jessica didn’t notice. She was adrift on a soft fur raft while strong hands kneaded her neck and shoulders, her arms and fingertips. As Wolfe soothed every knot from her aching arms, she made tiny, low sounds. Each sound was a knife sliding over the leash of his self-control, fraying it, until finally his hands slid down to her wrist and his fingers interlocked deeply with her own.

«Sore?» he asked, squeezing her hand gently.

The ragged sound Jessica made was pleasure, not pain. Her lashes stirred lazily, revealing a flash of aquamarine eyes. When he flexed his hand again, her fingers spread and laced tightly with his until their hands could not be more deeply joined.

«That feels good,» she said in a husky voice.

«This?»

Wolfe’s hand flexed again, caressing the sensitive skin between Jessica’s fingers and sliding down until he could go no farther. He pressed palm against palm and squeezed deeply.

Sighing, Jessica nodded. «Yes, that.» She smiled. «The butterflies like it, too.»

Wolfe continued the seduction of Jessica’s hand until she moved with him, spreading her fingers wide in silent invitation, sighing as he caressed from tip to base until her fingers closed, trapping his hand against her.

With a final squeeze, Wolfe dragged his fingers free of hers, ignoring Jessica’s small murmur of protest.

«Wolfe? You’re not stopping, are you?»

«No,» he said as he poured more oil into his palm. «I’m just going to work on your legs some more. Let your arms relax or they’ll knot up again. You’re weak as a day-old kitten.»

«I know.» Jessica’s sigh was so deep it was almost a moan. «But it was worth it.»

«What was?»

«All the scrubbing. Without it, I’d never have discovered what pleasure your hands could give me.»

Wolfe’s eyes narrowed against a violent surge of desire. He began rubbing the length of Jessica’s legs, beginning at the ankles and working slowly upward. When he reached mid-thigh, she stretched without moving her arms from her sides, arching her back and her feet, curling her toes. Her response was a knife in his loins, demanding that he take what she was so innocently offering.

«Jessi,» Wolfe whispered.

Long fingers pressed between her thighs as he encircled one leg and began kneading slowly, deeply, unraveling her even more. When his hands slid up beneath the blanket, Jessica stirred. Wolfe hesitated, waiting for an objection. None came. He let out a silent breath and slowly moved his hands even higher. The delicious pressure made Jessica sigh and stretch again.

«Why have you never done this to me before?» she murmured.

«I was just wondering the same thing.»

His palms slid higher. She sighed and shifted languidly.

«I’m all unraveled. ’Tisquite wonderful.»

«Yes,» Wolfe said huskily.

Closing his eyes, he savored the sleek resilience of Jessica’s flesh, the warm shifting of her body, the languid sighs. He knew he must stop touching her soon, for the hunger of his own body was becoming unmanageable.

Yet the soft temptations of her flesh were so close to hand, so hot, that he couldn’t force himself to withdraw right away. She was a heady fragrance and a hard need that was eroding his control as surely as he was unraveling her fear of a man’s touch. The blanket retreated before his gently insistent hands, leaving her secrets defended only by the mahogany cloud he longed to brush with his palm.

Then Jessica shifted again and the cloud parted, and a low sound of need was dragged from Wolfe. His hand moved, brushed, lingered, burned. Then his fingers were seeking and finding and testing the softness that had been revealed.

The intimate caress sent Jessica bolt upright with a gasp of mingled pleasure and shock. When she saw Wolfe’s hand between her legs, pleasure fled and shock became fear fed by a torrent of brutal memories. In her mind a stormy night descended and her mother screamed from the hallway floor as the lord ruthlessly pulled her legs apart.

«No!» Jessica cried.

«Easy, little one,» Wolfe said thickly. «I won’t hurt you. It’s a natural part of —»

His words were lost beneath the raw scream that tore from Jessica’s throat. She moved convulsively to defend herself, but her arms were too weak to push away a child, much less a man of Wolfe’s strength. She drew breath to scream again, only to have a hard hand clamp over her mouth, forcing her back down upon the bed.

It was her nightmare all over again, a woman’s screams cut off by the brute force of a husband intent upon rutting between his wife’s legs. Jessica tossed and thrashed from side to side, but couldn’t shake off the hand over her mouth or the heavy thigh pinning her own legs to the bed. Shuddering, wild with fear, she flailed against Wolfe with weak arms until he gathered her wrists in one hand and held them against her naked stomach.

«Jessi, listen to me, I won’t hurt you.»

If she heard, she didn’t respond.

As Wolfe looked down at Jessica’s struggling body, he felt a volatile combination of frank lust, shame at his loss of control, and anger at her wild fear.

«Be still, damn it,» Wolfe said curtly. «I won’t touch you. Do you understand me? Jessica!»

Wolfe had to repeat himself several times before Jessica subsided and lay still but for the involuntary tremors that shook her body, residue of her terror.

«I’m going to lift my hand from your mouth, but if you scream again, so help me God I’ll slap you into sanity as I would any hysteric.»

Jessica watched Wolfe with pale, glittering eyes. There was no comfort in his face — his eyes were black, his face dark and grim, his mouth a flat line. Even so, she nodded her head, for his hand was no longer invading her body. Slowly, Wolfe freed her mouth.

Jessica didn’t scream, even though she was pale and trembling. When she spoke, her voice was like breaking glass and her breath was coming in bursts. Despite that, her words were all too clear.

«No wonder you were called theviscount’ssalvage. Gentlemen who can’t control their baser urges make use of whores, not wives. If I had thought you would ever do anything so vile to me, I would never have sought a marriage. You have no need of an heir to inherit a title or a great estate, no reason to so foul my body, yet you would rut upon me like a beast!»

Wolfe looked down into Jessica’s face and felt her contempt beating at him with thick, invisible wings. Silence stretched and stretched until it was a living thing quivering between Jessica and Wolfe.

«What do you expect?» Wolfe snarled. «Ever since we got on the stagecoach together I’ve been breathing your air and watching you look at me when you think I won’t notice.»

Jessica didn’t deny it, for it was true. She had always watched Wolfe. He fascinated her. And the older she became, the more the fascination had deepened.

Wolfe continued speaking, his voice harsh with frustration and anger. «You keep watching me with hungry eyes and wondering how it would be to couple with a savage, but when I —»

«Never!» Jessica interrupted wildly. «Never! I never thought of coupling with you. The thought horrifies me!»

Wolfe’s eyes narrowed until they were little more than splinters of black. «Then you will agree to an annulment.»

The words were so soft, Jessica didn’t understand them at first. When she did, she closed her eyes and sought to control the fear clawing at her.

«No,» Jessica said, her voice shaking. «You may be a savage, but you won’t take me by force.»

Deliberately, Wolfe’s hand settled on the mahogany nest just above her thighs.

«Won’t I?» he asked softly.

She stiffened as though he had taken a whip to her. When her eyes opened, they were so dilated with fear that there was barely any color to them. She tried to lift her hands in a silent plea, but her arms wouldn’t respond. She tried to speak, but all that came from her lips was a hoarse whisper that could have been Wolfe’s name.

With a barely controlled fury at himself, at her, and at the sham marriage, Wolfe surged to his feet beside the bed.