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hand was braced beside her, and he smoothed back her hair with the other. His fingers shook a little. “Katherine,” he said thickly, “put your arms around my waist. I’ll do better next time, I swear it.”

He never called her Katherine. Uncertainly she did as he said. The muscles of his back were like iron. At her touch he ducked his head and kissed her, a deep, ravishing kiss that left her head spinning.

She felt the flex and strain of his muscles as he began to move in long, hard thrusts. She felt every inch of penetration as if it were the first time when his hips drove forward, although the discomfort faded quickly. He pushed himself up and took hold of the headboard; dimly she could hear it creak. The motion forced her hands down his back, until she was nearly cupping his bottom in her hands. He gripped her hip, holding her in place. Every surge of his body into hers rocked her whole form, curled as she was around him. It was overwhelming. The sensation was too much. She squeezed her eyes shut and clung to him, feeling as if she would burst from the pressure, the unbearable heat in her belly that grew harder and hotter with every stroke of his hips.

It broke like a shower of sparks against her skin, like nothing she had ever felt before. She clutched at him, her cry muffled against his chest. He thrust hard into her, then stayed there as she shook and convulsed around him. Dimly she heard him groan. Her head fell to the pillow, her neck too weak to hold it up. All her muscles felt soft and shaky, in fact.

“Kate.” Her name was a ragged breath against her temple as he kissed her. As her mind cleared, she realized she was clinging to him tightly, keeping him deep inside her. She would have to let go of him . . . in just a moment. That had been blissful. Wonderful. Everything she’d ever dreamed it might be, between a man and woman. She scrunched her eyes closed and listened to the pounding of his heart against her cheek.

“That’s what it should be like, my dear,” he said softly.

Chapter 12

Gerard woke in a fine mood. The sun was rising, light streaming through the gaps in the drapes when he slipped from the bed. Kate still slept, her hair a wild tangle across her bare shoulders and breasts, her face soft and young in sleep. He contemplated his bride for a moment. Howe must have been an idiot. Kate wasn’t a beauty, and her figure wasn’t lush, but she was exquisitely responsive, and her body . . . His blood surged at the memory of how tightly and wetly she sheathed him. And how pliantly she opened herself to him. His intention to be slow and gentle vanished, blown away by the single soft moan that slipped from her lips as he entered her, then he’d been lost to the driving need to bury himself in her again and again. And despite his lack of finesse, she still reached climax. His Kate was a more sensual being than expected. Yes, he was going to like being married.

Which only freed him up even more to pursue that bloody blackmailer. By day he could set himself on the hunt for his father’s tormenter, and by night he could lose himself in the pleasures of seducing his wife.

Bragg, already accustomed to Gerard’s army hours, had coffee waiting when he stepped into the dressing room. “What shall I do today, sir?”

“See that Lady Gerard is settled. Show her the house, and . . . anything else she wants.” He honestly had no idea what his wife would want to do. What did ladies do all day? “Find out where the library is. If she wants to attend the theater, take a box. A good one this time, Bragg.”

“Aye, sir.”

“And see to a carriage, or a chair.” Gerard slathered shaving soap over his chin. “She’ll want to go shopping and visiting, no doubt.”

When he was ready to go out, he peeked into the bedroom. Kate was still in bed, but awake, staring at the ceiling and twisting a lock of hair around her fingers. She looked so pensive, he paused. Had he been too rough last night? He opened the door. “Good morning, my dear.”

She lurched upright at his voice, then turned bright red as she jerked the covers up to her