«Get out,» he said flatly.

Jessica looked up at Wolfe without comprehension.

«Get out of my bed, your ladyship. You disgust me as much as I horrify you. I couldn’t take you if I had to. You’re not a woman, you’re a spoiled, cruel child.»

Jessica moved too slowly to suit Wolfe. He bent over and hauled her to her feet.

«Agree to an annulment,» he demanded in a low voice. «Damn you, let me go!»

She swallowed dryly and shook her head.

Wolfe looked at Jessica for a long moment before he spoke in a soft, cold voice that was more punishing than a blow.

«You will rue the day you forced me into marriage. There are worse things than being caressed by a savage. You shall learn each one of them.»

7

With an apprehension Jessica didn’t reveal, she watched from the corner of her eye as Wolfe took a sip of the coffee she had prepared. When he did little more than grimace at the taste, she let out a soundless sigh of relief and passed him a dish of stewed fruit and a platter of ham and biscuits.

Covertly, Jessica watched while Wolfe forked ham onto his plate, ignored the biscuits, and spooned stewed fruit into his bowl. She hoped he would be less fierce after he had eaten. Perhaps then he would listen to her explanations. Perhaps then he would look at her with less contempt.

Silently, Wolfe ate, sensing Jessica’s watchfulness. He said nothing to her. Nor did he look at her. It was safer that way. The rage in him was still very close to the surface. Awakening in a state of arousal that had increased at the mere sight of Jessica had done nothing to sweeten Wolfe’s temper.

«More ham?» she asked in a soft voice.

«No, thank you.»

Jessica took little comfort in Wolfe’s politeness, for she knew it was as automatic to him as breathing and meant far less. In England his manners were as impeccable as a duke’s. More so, for Wolfe had no tradition of wealth and power to mitigate any social gaffe he might make. When among the English, he never forgot for one instant that he was an outsider. He had made of their customs both an armor and a subtle insult. The viscount’s savage always proved better at elegant nuance than those who had been to the manor born, making them seem savages by comparison.

«Wolfe,» Jessica said, «last night I was tired and frightened and —»

He interrupted curtly. «You made yourself clear last night, your ladyship. My touch horrifies you.»

«No, that’s not what I meant.»

«The hell it isn’t. It’s what you said.»

«Please, listen to me,» she said urgently.

«I’ve heard all I —»

«I’ve never been naked with a man,» she interrupted, her voice rising. «I’ve never touched a naked man or been touched by one and I saw how much you wanted me and I forgot you wouldn’t hurt me and I —» Jessica’s voice broke. «I was frightened. I felt cornered and I just…just panicked. Please don’t be so angry with me. I — Wolfe, I liked touching you and being touched. That’s why I was afraid.»

«Christ,» Wolfe muttered in disgust, shoving back from the breakfast table. «You liked it so you panicked? Come, your ladyship. You’ve had hours of pacing in which to concoct pretty excuses and that’s the best you can do? I heard the truth from you last night and we both know it.»

«No,» she said urgently, «that’s not —»

«Enough!»

Jessica opened her mouth to argue, but a look at Wolfe’s icy indigo eyes made the words die in her throat. There was no indulgence in Wolfe now. Nor was there the least sign of the desire that had burned so clearly in him last night. He was looking at her like she was a stranger newly come to his home — a very unwelcome stranger.

She lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see the unhappiness and fear in her. It would take time and much work to win him back to even the uncertain companionship they had shared during the long trip to his home. It would take a miracle to regain the friendship they had known before marriage.

«After you clean the dishes,» Wolfe said curtly, «let the fire go out. We’re leaving.»

«We’re going back to England?» Jessica asked.

«No, your ladyship. If I never see England again, I’ll die a happy man.»

«I didn’t realize you hated it so.»

«There’s a lot about me you don’t know.»

«I will learn.»

«A woman never truly knows a man until they are lovers.»

«Then I shall have to speak to your duchess,» Jessica retorted before she could think better of it. «No doubt she’ll be a font of wisdom.»

Wolfe’s smile made his face look harder than ever. «You have missed the point, your ladyship.»

«Which is?»

«While the basics of the sexual act remain much the same no matter who performs it, the variations are still infinite. No man is the same with every woman. No woman responds equally to every man. In those differences is found much that illuminates the human experience, as well as the true measure of love.»

«That’s rather a lot to expect from rutting.»

«Spoken like a true nun, Sister Jessica.»

«I’m not a nun.»

«You’re more nun than wife.»

«There’s more to being husband and wife than the marriage bed,» Jessica said with subdued desperation.

«Not for a man.»

Jessica pushed back from the table without having eaten more than a bite. «I’m sorry our marriage is such a disappointment to you.»

«You’re not as sorry as I am, and I’m not as sorry as you’re going to be.» Wolfe threw his napkin on the table. «There are two leather valises beneath my bed. Use them for your clothes. We leave in two hours.»

«It would help me to pack if I knew where we were going, and for how long.»

«We’re going over the Great Divide.»

Jessica’s eyes showed her surprise and relief. «Truly? Are we going hunting?»

«No,» Wolfe said impatiently.

«Then why are we going?»

«To check on the horses I left with Caleb and Willow, especially thesteeldust mare. And to eat real biscuits. Willow makes the best biscuits this side of Heaven.»

Jessica tried to conceal her dismay at the thought of being close to the woman Wolfe loved, the paragon who could do no wrong.

And Jessica could do no right.

«For how long?» she asked tightly.

«Until you learn to make good biscuits or agree to an annulment. On the whole, my money is on the annulment.»

The back door banged as Wolfe strode out to the stable. Jessica waited until he disappeared before she turned and eyed the dishes with distaste.

Half an hour later, Jessica heaved the dirty dish-water off the back step, heard metal hit a rock, and saw a spoon lying on the ground. Sighing, she walked beyond the house and retrieved the spoon that she had somehow overlooked in the bottom of the dishpan.

As Jessica straightened from picking up the spoon, she heard the trill of a hidden bird and noticed that the willows around the spring held a green promise of summer’s leaves at the tips of their branches. Sunlight poured in rich, slanting fans between fluffy clouds that were so white it made her eyes water to look at them. The yellow warmth of the light was a balm and a benediction.

She tugged off the linen towel she had used as a headdress and shook out the clean coils of her hair. Theuntamned glory of the Western day poured down around her, lifting her heart.

Within the shadow of the small stable, Wolfe stood frozen in the instant when Jessica had shaken down a cloud of hair that burned beneath the unbridled sun. When she lifted her hands and spread them as though to catch sunlight itself, Wolfe felt a combination of hunger and tenderness that shocked him.

Motionless, barely able to breathe, Tree That Stands Alone watched while Jessica pirouetted slowly, curtsied, then held out her arms as though to a dance partner. As she glided, dipped, and turned with the grace of flame, Strauss’ latest waltz melody floated above the wild land, sung by a resilient elf whose beauty and cruel words were a knife turning in Wolfe’s heart.

No wonder you were called the viscount’s savage. You are unspeakable. If I had thought you would everdoanything so vile to me, I would never have sought a marriage.

Bitterly, Wolfe turned away from thesundrenched vision of an elf dancing; but there was nowhere he could turn away from the words echoing in his mind, cutting him in ways he couldn’t comprehend, only feel. Working by habit alone, he prepared for the trip ahead. It was too soon to risk the passes, but it was safer than staying trapped in his own house with Jessica burning like a flame locked within ice, forever beckoning, forever beyond his reach.

What am I complainingabout?Wolfeasked himselfruthlessly.Ifshe offered herself, I wouldn’t take her.

Wouldn’tyou?counteredanother part of himself.

Not on a golden platter with an apple in her mouth.

How about in bed with her softness parting for you like the petals of a rose?

No.

Like hell.

Hell is an apt description of what my life would be like afterward. No matter how hot Jessica makes my body, she isn’t the wife I need.

The sardonic catechism ringing in Wolfe’s mind wasn’t new, but it had the desired effect. By the time he walked through the sunlight back to the house, no trace showed of the unruly desire and painful yearning that had twisted through him. His face was impassive as he went to the bedroom and found Jessica standing amid a tumult of satins and silks.

The valises were open on the bed. One was full of books, a spyglass, small boxes of fishing lures, the segments of her split bamboo fly rod, a packet of embroidery needles and floss, and other items. Curious, Wolfe began lifting the books one after another.

«Coleridge, Burns, Blake, Donne, Shakespeare…» Wolfe set the heavy volume aside. «Leave this here. Willow has the Bard’s complete works.»

«I should have guessed a paragon would.»

«Leave the good clergyman behind, as well.»

«John Donne?» Jessica lifted dark mahogany eyebrows. «The paragon is well read.»

«The paragon’s husband, in this case. When you meet Cal, you’ll understand. He is a dark angel of retribution. Messrs. Donne and Milton suit him quite well.»

«Then ’tis fortunate Caleb married the paradigm of paragons,» Jessica said dryly. «What of the rest?»

«The poets?»

«Yes.»

Wolfe shrugged. «Bring them, if you must.»

«I thought you liked poetry.»

«I do. I happen to have a good memory.» Wolfe touched the volumes with gentle fingertips. «I can visit caverns measureless to man whenever I turn my mind to it. I can see the tiger’s fearful symmetry burning in the forest of the night whenever I like. And I can do it without giving my packhorse galls.»

Jessica smiled almost shyly at Wolfe. «If you’ll recite my favorite poems to me over the campfire, I’ll leave the books behind.»

He flashed her a black, sideways glance and saw the memories of other campfires in her aquamarine eyes, of the happy times when he and she had laughed together and traded lines of poetry while Indian guides and hunters alike crowded around, held by the rhythms and visions of men long dead.

«If you want poetry, you’d better take the books,» Wolfe said, turning away. «My days of reciting verse are over.»

Jessica’s smile faded. She turned back to packing. When she hesitated between two riding outfits, Wolfe took the heavier one and put it in the valise.

«You’ll need your warmest underwear,» he said. «The high country will be cold.»

«I looked for the trail clothes I left here years ago, but couldn’t find them.»

«I gave them to Willow last summer.»

Jessica’s mouth flattened. «Generous of you.»

«I gave her the boy’s saddle you used, too. Riding astride in buckskins is fine for a Western woman or a headstrong Scots child, but you’re neither. You’re the Lady JessicaCharteris, daughter of an earl. You will ride sidesaddle as befits your exalted station.»

«I’m JessicaLonetree.»

«Then you’ll ride as your husband thinks best.»

«Sidesaddle? Through those vast mountains I’ve heard so much about?» she asked, flinging an arm out to the west, where the Rockies thrust steeply into the sky.

«Exactly.»

«That’s unreasonable.»

«So is our marriage.»

«Wolfe,» she began softly.

«Say the word, lady Jessica. It has only threesyllables.Sayit.»

He waited for her tosayannulment.