A full minute passed and still he didn't move. The heat from his body began to help her relax. She started breathing again and opened her eyes.

Lucas braced himself up on his elbows and stared down at her. He gritted his teeth against the incredible surge of pleasure he felt pressed against her.

Taylor noticed only the tenderness in his eyes. She was suddenly overwhelmed by his gentleness. She reached up and stroked the side of his face. He leaned into her hand, then kissed her palm. A shudder of desire caught her by surprise. She wanted him to kiss her again, hard, on the mouth. She wanted him to use his tongue. She wanted…

"You may…"

She whispered the request and stared into his eyes while she waited for him to understand.

He leaned down and kissed her brow. "I may what?" he asked. His voice was as gritty as the sound of crushed leaves. It was incredibly arousing.

"You may kiss me again," she explained. She sounded breathless.

He slanted his mouth over hers and her lips parted.

His tongue swept inside, plundering, tasting, giving. Her hands went to the back of his neck and her fingers splayed upward into his silky hair. She never wanted him to leave her. Her tongue rubbed against his with a boldness that surprised both of them. And then the kiss took on an urgency that left them both desperate for more.

His hands moved down between their bodies. He stroked her breasts and then moved lower. His fingers circled her navel. She instinctively moved against him.

He shifted his position, his mouth sealed with hers all the while, and then his hand moved lower still until he found what he most wanted to touch. His fingers surged through the soft, curly hair between the junction of her thighs. He stroked the smooth petals shielding her virginity and then began to caress the kernel of desire he knew would drive her wild.

She would have screamed with the pleasure he gave her if she'd had the strength. She let out a low whimper instead. She couldn't stop herself from moving erotically against his hand. His fingers were magical.

The rhythmic motion of his fingers against her made her wild, wanton. She arched against him, demanding more. Her nails scraped his shoulders, and she softly moaned his name.

Her uninhibited response to him made him lose his own control. His actions were rough now, determined. He grabbed hold of a fistful of her hair, pulled her head back, and sealed her mouth with his. His tongue thrust into her mouth just as his finger penetrated her tight sheath. He could feel her wetness, and it drove him wild. She cried out against his mouth. He knew he was hurting her.

He eased his finger out and tried to soothe her with another drugging kiss. And then, before she realized his intent, his mouth replaced his fingers and he was kissing her there, stroking her with his tongue and his lips. The taste of her was intoxicating. She writhed against him even as she begged him to stop the blissful torture.

He wouldn't be deterred. He used his tongue to stroke the passion in her, and only when she was trembling and burning and pleading with him to come to her, did he at last make her completely his.

He knelt between her thighs but didn't immediately enter her. He took hold of her hands and placed them on his hard shaft. She let out a low moan. The deep guttural sound he made in the back of his throat, filled with raw pleasure, made her feel heady with power. She stroked him, squeezed him. Her finger brushed across the very tip. She felt the moisture there and leaned up to taste it with her mouth.

He almost came then and there. Her tongue flicked across the tip of his arousal and her sweet, soft lips closed around him. She started to suckle. Lucas's composure vanished. He didn't want to come in her mouth, not this time. He wanted to give her fulfillment first. Even if it killed him.

His movements became rougher now, more uncontrolled. He pushed her back against the sheets, lifted her hips up high on the front of his thighs, and when he was about to enter her, he demanded she look at him.

"We're a family now, Taylor. You're my family. Do you understand?"

She put her arms around him and drew him down to her. "Love me, Lucas. Please," she whispered.

And still he hesitated. "I understand," she said then.

"I'm going to hurt you. I'm sorry, baby. God, I'm sorry."

He kissed her then, long and hard. His tongue moved inside to mate with hers, and then he tried to slowly ease inside her tight sheath. It was agony. He wanted to be gentle. He couldn't. His body demanded completion, and he was powerless against the primitive instinct. Her permission had pushed him beyond control. He thrust deep, breaking her virginal barrier with one hard push, and he was finally planted solidly inside her. He captured her cry with his mouth, and though it didn't seem possible to him, he sank deeper inside her.

He was surrounded by her, caressed by her incredible tightness, flooded with such intense pleasure he thought he would die from it.

Taylor felt a searing pain and believed with all her heart that Lucas had just torn her apart. It hurt so much she started to cry. Yet within the space of a heartbeat, the pain began to lessen. A dull ache lingered, and when Lucas leaned down to kiss her tears away and whisper sweet lies about how beautiful she was, the pain was all but forgotten.

He wanted to give her time to adjust to him. The determination to hold back lasted less than a few seconds. She restlessly moved against him and began to stroke his shoulders. He rocked against her. Sensation after sensation flooded him. He slowly withdrew, then thrust back inside her. The rhythmic mating motions became more forceful, much quicker. Each time he sank back into her was better than the time before. He became mindless to everything but giving her fulfillment and finding his own. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. He pulled her legs up to hold him around his hips. And then she began to move with him. She arched up when he pulled back, until the ritual became wild and wonderful and exhilarating. They moved in perfect harmony. With each thrust, he became harder, fuller. He knew he was about to climax. He wanted her to be there with him. He reached between their joined bodies and stroked the nub hidden between her velvety folds until she coiled all around him and cried out his name. Tremors racked her body. She chanted his name in the throes of her orgasm, and only then did he allow himself the freedom to gain his own. He surged forward again and poured his hot seed into her.

His ecstasy was so shattering and gratifying he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. His head fell down to the crook of her neck. He groaned low in his throat. His heart was slamming inside his chest, and he took several deep, gulping breaths. He felt weak and powerful at the same time. The contradiction didn't make any sense. It didn't need to, for reality had turned out to be much better than all the fantasies he'd had.

She'd given him perfection.

Taylor felt as though she'd just reached the stars and was now gently floating down to earth again. She had never known such passion was possible. It overwhelmed her, consumed her. She clung to her husband, feeling safe and protected in his strong arms, until her heart quit beating so erratically and she could draw a deep breath.

They lay complete and exhausted in each other's arms, each listening to the other's heartbeat for a long while. Lucas was the first to gather enough strength to move. He let out a loud groan and rolled to his side. He couldn't quite bring himself to let go of her though and so he took her with him. Her eyes were closed. He couldn't stop staring at her. She was so beautiful to him. She had incredibly long eyelashes. He'd never noticed before, but only because he'd been too occupied staring into her enchanting blue eyes. Her complexion was flawless and with a lovely golden hue. She was flawless, he decided then. His gaze turned to her mouth. She had full, pouting lips that could drive him to distraction. He couldn't leave them alone. He rubbed his thumb across the silky texture, then tilted her head back and kissed her, savoring once again the taste and the feel of her softness against him.

When he pulled back, she opened her eyes and looked at him. She was shaken by his gentleness. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. Did he think the marriage act they had just shared had been as wonderful as she did? Had he been just as overwhelmed?

Madam had called it rutting. Taylor had believed her. She understood the truth now. It was anything but rutting. Loving Lucas had been pure and joyful and fulfilling, and it was surely the most wonderful experience of her life. She would always cherish the memory.

Lucas spotted the tears in her eyes and immediately became alarmed. "I couldn't help hurting you, sweetheart. Are you in pain now?"

She shook her head. She scooted closer to him and closed her eyes. "It was beautiful," she whispered.

He hugged her tight. He was arrogantly pleased with her admission. "It was, wasn't it?" He let out a loud yawn and then added, "It was perfect."

He fell asleep a few minutes later. He had a smile on his face.

It took Taylor much longer to relax. The afterglow was slow to leave but eventually reality returned. And with it came new worries, one on top of another. At the root of all her fears was the simple realization that she was in love with her husband. She was vulnerable now, and God, how that terrified her. She had three precious children dependent upon her. She couldn't afford to let her actions be ruled by her heart.

She needed to be strong. She repeated her determination over and over again while she got out of bed and went to wash. When she got back into bed, she stayed near the edge of the side of the bed so she wouldn't touch Lucas. She wanted to take hold of him and never let go. She fought the urge. God, how she wished she could lean on him and let him share a little of her burden. She didn't have any idea how she would ever be a good mother. She lacked all the necessary skills, or so she believed, and while she was growing up, she never even held a baby in her arms. Her experience was limited to speculation, and her terror was that she would do something so terribly wrong, the babies would be marred for life. And so would Davy Daniel, she realized. He needed more than simple comfort. He needed someone to help him understand his own value. Could she build up his self-esteem? Dear God, she didn't know how.

Oh, yes, she wanted to lean on Lucas and borrow some of his strength. She didn't dare. How easy it would be to let him take care of all of them. He was too noble to turn his back on her and the children. Still, it wouldn't be right or fair of her to ask. He didn't want to be married, and he certainly hadn't wanted a family. He was a loner who liked living that way. Besides, he'd done enough for her. More than enough, she thought. He could have walked away once they'd reached Boston, but he'd stayed on and searched for her nieces. He hadn't given up. Other men would have or gotten rid of the problem by handing it over to the authorities. Lucas had been as noble as a prince, and it wouldn't be honorable of her to become dependent on him. She had to stand on her own two feet. The children were her responsibility. Hers alone.

Was it wrong for her to want to live close to him? Redemption. Even the name signified a safe haven to her now. And Lucas Ross had become her safety net. She didn't want to trap him. No, of course she didn't. But the children came first and if they needed something, or if there were trouble she was having difficulty handling, she wanted to be able to turn to him for help. He could still go riding off into his mountains. It wasn't so uncommon to leave a wife behind. Daniel Boone left his wife all the time, sometimes for several years. According to the stories, Mrs. Boone never complained, and from the number of children she had, Taylor assumed Daniel came home every now and again;

Divorce. The word left a sour taste in her mouth. Yes, Daniel Boone had left his wife behind, but he always came back. He wanted a wife.

Lucas didn't. Taylor closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She owed her Prince Charming his freedom.

Lucas woke up on top of her again. It was a little before dawn, his usual time to wake up, but he was having trouble clearing his mind this morning. He thought he was having an erotic dream. He was nuzzling the side of her neck and rubbing against her, and what made the dream so real to him was the feel of her warm skin against him. She wasn't wearing any clothes. Neither was he. His hands cupped her breasts. Her nipples were hard pearls. He moved down and took one into his mouth. She let out a little moan and began to move restlessly against him. Her legs were entwined with his. He shifted so that he could kiss the other breast and as he began to suckle, his hands stroked a path down to span her narrow waist. Her stomach was flat, smooth, her skin silky against his fingertips. His hand moved lower. He caressed the tilt of her hip, then trailed his fingers down the smooth skin on the outside of her thigh. And then he stroked a hot path up the inside until he brushed against the dewy curls at the junction of her thighs. He caressed her with his fingertips, making circles around and around the nub of her desire, until she was moaning and writhing against him, and when at last he began to caress the very spot he knew would drive her wild, she arched upward and let out a cry of raw pleasure. He didn't stop his sweet torment until she was damp with desire and begging him with soft whimpers to come to her.