He laid aside his plane, dusted wood shavings from his trousers, then strode in the front door. He met Mòrag, returning to the kitchen with a basket of turnips.

"Where's my wife?"

She shrugged. "Saw English in the north wing last. Said she was going to wax the floors."

He nodded and grabbed an apple from a bowl, then dropped it as he caught an unmistakable scent.

The girl sniffed. "What the hell has she done now?"

"Paraffin, Mòrag," he barked over his shoulder as he took off at a run. "Think about it."

Mòrag gasped and dropped her basket to follow.

Paraffin wax was for floors.

And was easily confused with paraffin oil—another term for…kerosene.

He burst through the closed door and swallowed at the sight. Jane had coated thirsty mahogany wood with jugs of kerosene.

She tottered to her feet. "I wanted to surprise you and have this all finished." She rubbed her nose delicately with the back of her hand. "But I feel quite foxed." Shrugging, she picked up a chunk of sandstone and said, "I was just going to sand the dried area—"

"No!" he and Mòrag shouted at the same time.One spark…

Heart in his throat, he lunged for her just as Mòrag cried, "Are ye daft, English?"

Jane blinked, sputtering as he hauled her outside to the well. "I assume I did something wrong?" she said as he quickly stripped her of everything but her shift.

"Aye. I'm agreeing with Mòrag on this." He pumped a continuous stream of water all over her wee hands and arms, scrubbing the oil away. "You've taken on far too much for one person with this project. And that oil is flammable and usually used by"—lanterns—"by professionals. If one drop of candle tallow hit your skirt just then, you'd have gone up in a blaze."

"Oh." Jane bit her bottom lip. "You're angry."

"Concerned."

"Hugh, be patient with me."

"God knows I try, lass."

When he spied Mòrag preparing to leave for the night, he ordered Jane, "Scrub your legs and feet. I'll be right back," then strode to the stable to catch the girl. "Mòrag, I want you to keep my wife away from any and all dangerous and flammable substances that might be on this property. Lock them away if you have to. And I'll triple your wages if you can keep her out of the north wing till I can replace the boards."

Hugh turned back to Jane to bark, "Scrub!" and Jane jumped with fright, then dutifully scrubbed.

Mòrag made a disgusted sound. "You're no' going to scold English worse? After ruining the room like that?"

Hugh shrugged. "From now on, I'll make sure she understands some things are dangerous around here, but, no, she'll no' know she damaged an entire mahogany floor."

"I'd have been tarred." But then Hugh knew Jane had started growing on the girl when Mòrag glowered and threw her hands up. "English is no'stoopid —you ken we'll have to bluidy age the new floor, too?"

"It's time you told me why're you've been working so hard, lass," Hugh said when he returned.

She was feeling tipsy and cold, and yet delightfully shivery as Hugh's rough hands rubbed up and down her arms, checking for oil residue. She grinned drunkenly. "I'm endeavoring to impress you. So you'll keep me. And let me live in your seashore house."

When he gave up a shadow of a grin, she said, "Actually, that wasn't a joke."

His face creased into a scowl. "You bring marriage up? Again? You're as stubborn as a Scot! Do you know that?"

"I could make you happy," she insisted. "And you're in a position to take a wife."

"Damn it, lass, you would no' like being married to me."

"How would it differ from what we've been doing?"

When he'd agreed to this marriage, he'd anticipated her wanting out at the first opportunity. That was supposed to be the one constant. He'd never imagined he would be grasping for arguments againsthimself , as he stared at Jane's shift getting soaked with cool well water and clinging to her plump breasts. His hands on her arms began to move more leisurely.

He hadn't been concentrating well anyway, but how could he be expected to formulate an argument when faced with her little nipples stiffening under every spurt of water that hit them? He was in a bad way. He remembered that last time he'd kissed them, he'dfelt them throb beneath his tongue….

He broke away, removing his hands completely from her body. "Jane, forget this plan of yours. I'm no' a good man. And I would no' make a good husband."

"This makes sense to me. It's a logical move for us. We're already married, and we've done the formalities." She lowered her voice to say, "All you have to do is make love to me."

"Logical? You want this because it's logical? That's the one bloody thing it is no'."

Her brows drew together as she gazed up at him. "Hugh, what is so wrong with me?"

He'd never imagined a woman like her could fear herself lacking. He couldn't allow her to think that in any way. Which meant telling her the truth. At least, part of it.

"It's no' you. It'sme ."

Whatever he'd said had evidently been the worst he could have. Her face grew cold in an instant. "Do you have any idea how many men I've told that to spare their feelings?" She crossed her arms and eased away from him. "Oh, how the worm has turned. Now I'm the unwanted, unhappy recipient of platitudes."

"Jane, no." He reached out and laid a hand on her hip, tugging her closer. "You are everything a man could ever want in a wife." He caught her eyes. "The truth is…the truth is that if I were ever planning to marry, I'd have you or none at all."

She tilted her head. "None at all?"

"None. It truly is my problem. I have…difficulties that prevent me from marrying."

"Tell meone reason you don't want to marry."

"That will merely invite more of your questions. As I said before, you doona seem to be happy unless everything's laid bare."

"Hugh, this involves me, and I deserve to know more. I'm just asking you to be fair."

"Aye, I know. Believe me, I ken that. But you need to get inside and dry off."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me one reason."

Finally, after a long hesitation, he bit out, "I canna…give you bairns."

Chapter Thirty-eight

"Oh," Jane said, letting out a breath she hadn't known she held. "Why not?"

"Just never have."

He was right. Now she wanted to ask a slew of questions. "I suppose you purposely tried," she said, struggling to disguise the hurt she felt. The thought of him wanting a child with another woman scalded her inside.

"Christ, no, I have no' tried."

She frowned. "Then how can you know?"

"My brothers canna either."

Her eyes widened a touch. A childhood illness. It would have to be. Her eyes widened even more—was this why he'd never wanted to marry at all? Never wanted to marryher ?

It would explain everything! She swayed, and Hugh's grip on her hip tightened. Hugh wouldn't want to deny her children. He was always selfless like that. This made sense—this was the reason she'd wracked her mind for! She wasn't daunted by this in the least. If she had her Scot, she could go without children. After all, her cousins would continue to spawn at an accelerating rate, inundating Jane with children to play with.

If her heart had turned like a cart's wheel at the sight of her wedding ring, then this latest revelation made her feel like someone had lit the cart on fire and sent it careening down a mountain.

Her first impulse was to tackle him to the ground and kiss him, but she stifled that impulse, realizing almost immediately that it had been a Bad Idea. Surely he would be vulnerable after his admission, and she didn't want to appear pleased over what he considered a loss. Her second impulse was to scoff at what he erroneously thought was a major obstacle, but to scoff would mean she didn't respect his beliefs on the subject.