"There are going to be no silent partners in this marriage,
"
he told her, torn between amusement and ecstasy. "Just pretend you
'
re starting on a new business venture and be your usual, thorough self.
"
His eyes held hers. Relentlessly, he stroked her fingers over every pleasure point in his body, compelling her to an intimacy he had never demanded from or allowed to any other woman. Under his careful tutoring, she gained confidence.
"Yes, like that,
"
he groaned. "You
'
re going to know every inch of me the way I know you.
"
This time he had himself well in hand when he pushed her into the depths of the mattress. He allowed her no modesty, but unveiled each cherished treasure first to his gaze, then to the caress of his hands and finally to the touch of his mouth. With infinite patience, he overcame each involuntary protest, every reluctance to permit him the freedom of her body. He savored her soft cries of pleasure as she writhed beneath the slow seduction of her senses. Only when she was mindless with need, calling out to him for release, did he yield to her pleading. But when he brought himself fully into her body, he taught her a new form of torment. His slow, measured strokes, denying her the fulfillment she craved, brought a torrent of anguished protest. He silenced her with a kiss.
He had never felt more of a man, never experienced so keenly the full depth of his masculine drive to possess. He wanted to enslave her, dominate her, control her, and at the same time, protect her from all harm. He would kill anyone who threatened a hair of her head. He did not think that so tepid a word as "love
"
could possibly express the ferocity of the emotions this woman aroused in him. Nor would he dare reveal such thoughts to Annabelle. She would be scandalized by his masculine arrogance. But what he could not reveal in words, he demonstrated by bringing her to the point where she could deny him nothing.
And yet, strangely, when he finally allowed the crisis to overtake them, as he thrust into her, hoarsely repeating her name, over and over, like a lover
'
s litany, he felt the pull of
her
possession in every cell of his body. He could not give her enough of himself; could not deny the power she wielded over him, nor even want to. Possessor and possessed, one flesh, indistinguishable.
At the very moment that their passion spent itself, the sky outside their window blazed with light as thousands of fireworks were ignited over Lewes.
"What was that?
"
asked Annabelle, startled. She was still panting softly as her body recovered from the surge of sensations which had just swept through her.
Dalmar laughed and showered her with moist, tender kisses. "I think we started something,
"
he said. "When we go on our honeymoon, remind me to give Vesuvius a wide berth. Though the volcano has not erupted in years, there
'
s no sense taking chances.
"
With an answering smile, she responded, "Armageddon!
"
"What?
"
He pulled back slightly to look at her.
She lowered her lashes. "The first time this
…
you know what I mean
…
happened to me in your bed, I thought the end of the world was upon us.
"
A delicate pink suffused her cheeks.
Dalmar stared at her for a long moment then threw back his head and laughed.
"I don
'
t see the joke,
"
she said, pouting.
"Armageddon? The end of the world?
"
"You don
'
t know your Bible very well, Dalmar.
"
"That
'
s where you
'
re wrong. I know exactly what you are getting at. I
'
d just never thought of it that way before.
"
"I thought I was dying.
"
"And now?
"
His eyes were very soft, his voice low and caressing.
She flashed him a mischievous smile. "Oh, now I know I
'
ve died and gone to heaven.
"
He smothered her in a bear hug.
A
s the effigy of Guy Fawkes went up in a roar of flames, Amy looked about her with terrified eyes. She saw where refuge was to be found and made a beeline for the man who was
standing beside her beloved Aunt Bertie.
Throwing her arms around Ransome
'
s legs, she sobbed, "I want to go home.
"
"She
'
s overtired and overcome with excitement,
"
he told Bertie, and he lifted Amy high against his chest. Her arms stole around his neck and she buried her head against his shoulder.
"They threw a man on the fire,
"
she whispered brokenly in his ear.
Soothingly, he comforted her, explaining that the "guy
"
was not a real man, but only a suit of old clothes stuffed with straw. He had finally quieted the sobbing child when scores of fireworks were let off simultaneously. Her frightened sobs began anew.
"Amy, you
'
re missing the fireworks display,
"
said Bertie, trying to distract the weeping child. "Oh, look at the rockets. And the Catherine wheels. You
'
ve never seen anything quite like this before.
"
She touched her hand to Amy
'
s shoulder.
"I want to go home,
"
wailed Amy, shaking off the comforting hand.
"Richard doesn
'
t want to go home,
"
said Bertie hopefully.
"Well
we
are going home.
"
Ransome spoke in a voice that would brook no argument.
Hoisting Amy more securely in his arms, he turned on his heel and made his way to the edge of the spectators.
"Where do you think you
'
re going,
"
demanded Bertie, running to keep up with him. "I have not given you permission to take Amy away. She is my responsibility, not yours. Put her down this instant, d
'
you hear?
"
Ransome stopped dead in his tracks, and Bertie stumbled against him. His expression was livid as he turned to face her. In a furious undertone, he said, "If she
'
s not my responsibility, I know whom I have to thank for that! And say one more word to me in that vein, madam, and you
'
ll rue the day that you were born.
"
Scandalized at being addressed in such terms, and even more shaken as the full significance of his words registered, Bertie could only stand and stare.
Ransome did not so much as spare her a backward glance. He pushed his way through the throng with Amy sheltered against
his powerful chest. Bertie picked up her skirts and went racing after him.
"I know what you
'
re thinking and you
'
re wrong,
"
she said, gasping more from fear than exertion. "Amy is my niece, d
'
you hear, my
niece!
"
He did not slow in his stride as he began the descent which led to the bridge into Lewes. "I might ask,
"
he said, a sneer coating his voice, "why Amy should be the spitting image of my mother. There
'
s a miniature of her in my possession. Remind me some time to show it to you.
"
"It
'
s not possible,
"
said Bertie, her voice low and lacking conviction even to her own ears.
"Oh, I
'
ll allow that her eyes are yours,
"
he said. "But in everything else, she is a Montague through and through. I should have suspected as much when you were so diligent in keeping her away from me for the duration of this houseparty. I
'
m surprised you allowed her to come to Rosedale in the first place. Why did you?
"
With more honesty than caution, she blurted out, "I didn
'
t know you were invited.
"
"Ah,
"
he said, a wealth of meaning conveyed in the short reply.
Her uneasiness growing with each passing second, quickly, sharply, Bertie cried out, "This changes nothing. Surely you see that?
"
"I beg to differ.
"
His voice was as soft as silk. "My dear, this changes everything. D
'
you suppose I
'
ll allow my own flesh and blood to be raised by strangers? Think again,
Mrs. Pendleton.
"
She lambasted him with a furious oath.
"Keep your voice down,
"
he bit out.
"Aunt Bertie, you
'
re angry.
"
Amy lifted her sleepy head, and glanced from one white face to the other.
Ransome
'
s hand closed around the small head and pushed it back to
the
comfort of his shoulder. "There, there, pet. We
'
ll soon have you home,
"
he soothed.
The rest of the way to the Bull was made without one word being exchanged between the two of them, though, from time to time, each addressed a few words to Amy.
Ransome lost no time in hiring a chaise for the return trip
to Rosedale.
"We should wait here for the others,
"
Bertie pointed out.
He shrugged indifferently. "Suit yourself. I promised Amy I would take her home and that
'
s what I intend to do.
"
Rosedale was not "home
"
to Amy, but Bertie wisely refrained from telling him so. She could see that in his present mood, Ransome wasn
'
t prepared to wait for time nor tide. He barely allowed her enough time to scribble a message for the others, giving them their direction, before he climbed into the chaise. Fearing that he would leave without her, she thrust the note at the landlord with some garbled instructions and went hastening after him.
In the carriage, though he might have laid Amy on one of the banquettes, Ransome chose instead to cradle her in his arms. The child was asleep but that did not stop him crooning soft words of comfort against her hair.
Torn between apprehension for the future, and a terrible regret for what might have been, Bertie finally said, "Paul, please, Amy is my sister
'
s child. She
'
s happy there. It doesn
'
t matter who her natural parents are. Can
'
t you understand that?
"
In voice she scarcely recognized, he said, "I presume your sister has a husband?
"
"Yes, but…
"
"I
'
ll talk to him. I have no doubt this thing can be settled amicably between gentlemen.
"
"No,
"
she whispered.
"What do you care?
"
he baited. "It will make little difference to you. No demands will be made upon your time. You can see Amy as little as you do at present, if that
'
s what you wish.
"
Each word pierced her like a poisonous barb. Her first instinct was to retaliate with all the fury of her wounded pride. She swallowed the senseless, accusatory words, and stared out the window.
His voice reached out to her in the darkness. "You must hate me very much.
"
She thought of the terrible heartache she had suffered at this man
'
s hands.
"Bertie?
"
"I had good reason,
"
she answered at length.
"You never gave me a chance to explain.
"
She laughed softly, derisively. "Tell me, Colonel Ransome, how does a man explain away a wife?
"
"I never lied to you!
"
"No, but you let me think you were unattached. She came to see me. Did you know that?
"
"She told me. And afterwards, I could not find you.
"
A pleading note crept into his voice. "Bertie, I would have taken good care of you if only I had known; if only you had given me a chance.
"