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over the tension and anxiety he saw on her face. He moved closer and tipped her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him. ‘Am I to understand you did not enjoy what I did to you that night, Laura?’
    ‘I— No, I didn’t like it—and you made me feel less than worthy of your attentions,’ she told him bluntly, with a trace of accusation. ‘I found the whole thing painful and undignified, and I can very well live without it. I made up my mind not to repeat it in a hurry.’ When he removed his finger from her chin and stepped back, unable to meet his steady gaze any longer she looked away in sheer embarrassment, her cheeks as pink as the roses that clambered in profusion over the walls at Roslyn.
    Lucas looked at her intently, as if he were seeing her for the first time. The things he had done to her on that one night they had lain together as man and wife paraded across his mind, bringing pain and regret. In his prison cell he had often found himself lost in that memory, and afterwards he was left with a lingering feeling of failure.
    There had been no tenderness or regard in his treatment of her. His mind had been so preoccupied with the importance of his mission to France the following day that he had given little thought to the fears of his young wife. She had surrendered her virtue without a struggle, and he had coldly and deliberately taken her innocence as his due. He realised now that he must have scared the hell out of her.
    She was standing an arm’s length away from him, and she looked flushed, extremely lovely, and terrified half to death. He was surprised that it gave him intense pleasure to contemplate taking her to bed and guiding her gently, tenderly, along the paths of love until she was moaning with rapture in his arms.
    ‘Laura, this marriage might not have been of our choosing, but it was done and we will have to find a way to live in harmony with it. I did you a great wrong on the night I took your virtue, and nothing I can say or do will change that,’ he said, speaking with great gentleness, firstly because he was dealing with an anxious and bewildered young woman, and secondly because he genuinely wished to make amends for any pain he had caused her.
    ‘I should have exercised more care and consideration for your youth and inexperience. I hurt you, and for that I implore your forgiveness. I promise not to treat you like that again. Please believe me when I tell you that the next time I make love to you it will be different from before.’ She looked so relieved that he smiled crookedly. ‘You needn’twork yourself up into a fevered anguish. You are reprieved—for now, at least.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I would be grateful if you would allow me a little time. I’m so glad you understand.’ Fixing his gaze on her lips, he smiled, a slow, lazy smile that made her heart leap. ‘Now what are you thinking?’
    ‘That the reprieve I grant you will be harder for me to bear than it will for you—so do not take too long.’ He lifted a brow in tender mockery. ‘I’m not cut out to be a monk.’
    ‘No?’ She laughed lightly, teasingly. ‘My mother always used to say restraint is good for the soul.’
    ‘I doubt your mother was referring to our making love,’ he countered, his gaze caressing her smiling face. The radiance of her smile heartened him.
    ‘No,’ she replied, pink-cheeked. ‘I don’t suppose she was.’
    His eyes glowed warm and he grinned roguishly. ‘You are blushing—that’s charming. I don’t intend to spare your blushes. We know so little about each other, Laura, that we will find it interesting to discover more—and we have all the time in the world to make those discoveries.’
    Picking his jacket off the bed, which Laura foolishly realised had been his true reason for crossing to the bed in the first place, and not because he’d had any designs on sharing it with her, he took two objects from the pocket and handed them to her—her