She was as ripe and beautiful as he’d always believed. Lush, sleek, sweet. Already Mal felt himself stirring again. He’d had only a sample—a mere taste of his wife.

His wife….

He could scarcely believe it. He was wed to Judith of Kentworth. What had been inconceivable only a month ago had come to pass, and he had gained a prize beyond expectation.

But at what price? Mal felt the niggle of guilt he’d tried to subdue for a se’ennight. He’d fairly forced her into wedding him. She tried to renege, tried to break their agreement. An honorable man would have allowed it to happen…mayhap.

She despises the king. And wedding Malcolm was an escape from a dangerous and untenable situation.

Or so he told himself. Judith didn’t want to remain the king’s concubine or the queen’s servant. It would kill her, if one of them didn’t do so first.

He proposed the perfect arrangement. She gained freedom, and the ability to return to her beloved Lilyfare, and Malcolm gained…her.

He’d very nearly convinced himself of this—that it was the right thing, that it was the only way to protect her. And then Gavin of Mal Verne arrived at Clarendon, coming in response to Malcolm’s letter.

“You do not have to wed her,” Gavin told Malcolm, his tones serious, his dark gaze probing. “Though I cannot thank you enough for making the offer, and doing what you can to protect her. I did not know….” Gavin was obviously disgusted with the situation—but also with himself, for not taking better care of his cousin’s interests.

“No one knew,” Mal told him.

“She could have written me,” Gavin said, shaking his head. “But now—I can take her from here. I will extricate her from the king. You do not have to wed her to save her, Mal….Unless that is truly your wish.”

“I would wed her,” Malcolm told him after the slightest hesitation. He did not wish to appear too desperate. “If she will have me.”

At that, Gavin smiled with genuine pleasure, sending a bounce of relief through Mal—for if his friend had any doubt of their match, Malcolm would have stepped aside. “Felicitations, then, Warwick,” Gavin said, thumping him on the back fiercely. “I wish you the best of luck taming my wild cousin.”

With that, Mal’s spirits had lifted. He was exuberant as the pieces fell into place and at last, later that very day, Judith became his. Even the king was thwarted after his visit to her chamber this night. Dirick was confident the king was no longer a threat, for the unification of the barons and their challenge had subdued him.

But now…Mal could only wonder. Had Gavin insisted she accept him? Had she done so only to escape the king? And to once again see her beloved Lilyfare? Did she already regret not finding another way out of her conundrum?

But you are my husband and I would welcome you in my bed—right or no right.

She’d lured him to her, breaking through his shield of honor, coaxing him to couple with her. But now she wept over it. Had she done so, had she forced herself to accept him only to ensure a consummation of their marriage? So they would be truly wed, and even the king couldn’t cleave them apart?

As he lay there—staring at the canopy fixed to the bed posts, feeling the warmth radiating from her, smelling the intoxicating scent of their coupling, still among the sheets—Mal wondered why he even cared what was her intent. She was his wife. Just as it had been with Sarah, Judith’s duty was to give him an heir or two and to warm his bed while doing so. She would be chatelaine of their lands if she knew how to manage an estate; if not, he could employ a steward.

But as he’d told Judith when they went hunting, he cared not whether his wife had any other pleasant attributes—if she could converse, or if she were comely or if she had any other skills as Lady Maris did. It was the way of the world, of the matches between ladies and great lords like himself. So if Judith was unhappy with her decision, why should it matter to him?

Because you coerced her. You made it near impossible for her to deny you.

The small gnawing in his chest bothered Mal and he shoved away the taunting voice in his head. Judith had agreed to marry him and now she was his wife. ’Twas done.

He would do his part and take her back to Lilyfare. Beyond that….

Malcolm rubbed a hand roughly over his forehead, then let it rest, covering his eyes. It matters not why she wed me. She is mine now.

Though his thoughts were heavy, Malcolm eventually fell asleep. But he didn’t sleep long, for it had been four years since he’d had a wife, and even then, he and Sarah rarely shared the same bed. So when he felt the nudge of something against him, he bolted awake with the same intensity he would have done if sleeping on a blanket in the forest.

But this, he realized instantly, was a much more pleasurable situation. For the brush of soft, warm, sweet-smelling skin against him was from his wife. No sooner had this information penetrated his brain than his body responded. Quickly and fully.

And then Mal had no other coherent thought beyond touching, tasting…taking. He moved Judith’s hair out of the way and eased himself up behind her, as if he were a large hand cupping her body. Her arse curved into his lap, brushing against his cock, which was already full and throbbing. But he took his time, sliding his hand around to cover her breast, letting his manhood slip along the warm juncture of her legs. She shifted and shivered, half asleep…gave a soft sigh…and he felt it when she became fully aware, for she stiffened against him.

At first he feared she meant to push him away. It was too dark to see her expression, but Mal wasn’t about to be denied. His wedding night, his wife….

He kissed her shoulder, slipping his tongue out to slide over the delicate muscle and tendon there as he nibbled her sweet, salty skin. She trembled a little, but she didn’t move away or resist. His leg slid between hers from behind as he gently fondled her breast, finding the nipple there and teasing it into a firm shape. A little quiver rushing through her gave him the encouragement to slide his hand down between her parted legs.

When he felt her soft, damp center—wonderfully slick and hot—when she gave a soft gasp and vibrated softly against him, he nearly lost control of himself right then and there. The subtle scent of her musk mixed with his made him feel heady and desperate, and he would wait no longer. With a swift, sure move, he pulled himself up and shifted Judith toward him so she was on her back and he was poised over her. In the dim light, he could see her eyes were open and her lips were gently parted.

She murmured something; it could have been his name, but it wasn’t a demand or a protest. Nothing to stop him, nothing to keep himself from easing between her thighs. Nothing to keep him from sliding into her warm, damp sheath.

His breath left him in a gust, and he began to move. Judith moaned beneath him, a titillating sound. One that sharpened his desire. She had her hands on his chest, planted there with her fingers curling up over his shoulders, holding him in place as he moved, in and out, faster and faster. In the back of his mind, he tried to remember to hold back, to keep himself from driving her into the head of the bed. Judith cried out, her fingers digging into his upper arms, her hips slamming up to meet his. The very sound sent him over, into the rocking waves of orgasm. Malcolm thrust home, straining with effort as he poured every last bit of himself into her.

My God…. It was half prayer, half curse…and he collapsed next to her, his body wrung out, his mind empty, as if it had been shattered. A warm, rich contentment settled over him like a blanket, and he gathered her in his arms, pulling her against his chest.

And then he stilled, the last bit of contentment sliding away…for he could feel it: her face was wet. With tears.

When Mal opened his eyes again, it was past dawn. The summer sunlight poured into the chamber, bathing it in a soft, yellow glow.

He realized with surprise that not only had he slept for several hours, but that Judith had slipped from the bed without disturbing him. One night as a husband again in a warm bed, and already I grow soft and slow.

Mal pulled himself to a sitting position just in time to see his nude wife rising from a crouch, having slid the chamberpot back into place. She turned in a swirl of hair and bounce of breast. When she saw him awake and watching her, she squeaked in surprise.

“Oh,” Judith said, and then her face turned a charming pink. So did the upper part of her torso, over her freckled shoulders and breasts, and he noticed her perky nipples with delight. “Good morrow, my lord husband.” Her voice went a little husky on the word ‘husband,’ and Mal wasn’t certain what to make of that.

“Good morrow, Lady Warwick,” he managed to reply, realizing with a sudden burst of pride that he was uncommonly pleased to have given her his name. It was, however, nearly a miracle that any words escaped his suddenly dry mouth and tight throat. For what he’d seen of his bride’s lovely body in the moonlight was naught compared to a full sunlit view, with her slender, ivory limbs bathed in golden warmth and the blaze of light setting her hair to fire. It was no surprise the king had been obsessed, he thought darkly.

“I expect Tabby is waiting outside the door,” she said. “Or nearby.” Her words almost ran together, as if she were nervous or unsettled. “Shall I call her in? Would you like a bath or are you in need of…aught? Shall we break our fast?”

“I have a hunger for aught other than bread and cheese,” he said, patting the bed next to him. “Climb back here, Judith.” Mal was aware that, despite the throbbing of his cock and the hot anticipation thrumming through his body, he had an underlying apprehension…a niggle of concern. Would she agree, or would she make some excuse?

To his relief, Judith smiled bashfully, her cheeks growing pink again, and climbed back onto the bed. That in itself pleased him, and yet was cause for confusion—for she was no shy virgin.

But she was here, and with him, and he easily pushed those concerns away as he reached for her. She came willingly, and even—to his surprise and great delight, as well as near embarrassment—closed her fingers around his great, stiff cock. Her firm touch nearly sent him over the edge before he even began, and it was only with great control that he saved himself from spilling his seed so easily.