When he came into her, still not entirely awake, she pulled him close, felt all of him deep inside her, closed her eyes, felt his whiskers against her cheek, and thanked God for sending her to Lyon’s Gate that particular day two months before.

Once again, early the next morning, Hallie lay on her back, panting for breath after the cataclysm, her eyes nearly crossed. She felt she could sink through the bed, perhaps sink through the floor as well. What room was beneath the bedchamber? She didn’t want to move. Her eyes jerked open at Jason’s appalled voice. “My God, it looks like I killed you!”

“Wha-what?”

“Oh God, how many times did I take you?”

“What a strange way to say it. Take me-like I didn’t have any say in it.”

“Hallie, it doesn’t mean anything. Wake up.”

“I don’t want to wake up right now, Jason. My brain isn’t working well, only my mouth. I certainly remember the last time you, ah, took me-just five minutes ago. How can you even talk?”

“Hallie, are you all right?” He sat down beside her, grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

Her head fell back against the pillow, and she moaned. “I feel like my bones have faded out of me. Let me lie here in endless bliss, Jason. I’m all right, I must be since I did speak to you.”

“Yes, but you looked ridiculous while you spoke, grinning like a loon with no sense.”

She giggled. He looked harassed. She watched him rake his fingers through his hair, stroke his whiskered chin. She realized he was now looking down at her belly, perhaps even lower, and somehow the covers were gone. She yelped, trying to pull the covers over herself. He stayed her hand. “Ah, damn me and damn my randy self. Forgive me, sweetheart, I had no idea, I mean, I know that virgins bleed the first time, but-oh God, blink your eyes at least three times at me if you’re really awake and not just grinning like that because you’ve fallen back asleep and are dreaming.”

“I’m awake now, Jason. What are you doing? Don’t look at me. Please, it’s very embarrassing. What do you mean, bleed?”

“Nonsense, I’m your husband. Don’t move. I’m going to clean you up. It’s just a bit of blood, nothing to worry about. I’m sorry about waking you up that third time, Hallie.”

“It was the fourth.”

“That’s right, you woke me up the third time. I’m innocent of that one. Hmm. The second time as well if I remember rightly. Four times? Well, that’s nice now, isn’t it?” He looked immensely pleased with himself, looked at the blood smeared on her thighs again and paled.

“Oh yes,” she said. “I did. Don’t worry, I’m all right. I am, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” he said and prayed he was right. He’d never heard of a bride bleeding to death from her wedding night.

When he went to fetch a cloth and the basin of water on the commode, she jerked up, pulled up the sheet, and said, “You really don’t need to do this. I’m fine, at least I think I am.” She tented the white sheet over her head and looked down at herself. “Oh dear, perhaps I am a bit of a mess. But I don’t think I’m dying. I feel wonderful. You said I was supposed to bleed?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, all right. Hand me that cloth.”

He watched her hand slide out from beneath the sheet and placed the damp cloth on her palm. He heard her talking to herself, probably discussing both sides of this problem, although he couldn’t imagine how there could be a second side. He wished he could make out her words. He had a feeling that if he could, he’d be howling with laughter.

“You won’t leave the house ever again, will you, Jason?”

“Oh no,” he said. “Oh no.” And because he was worried, he pulled the sheet off her and made certain she was all right himself.

Hallie sent a blinding smile out to the table at large as she said to her father-in-law, “You wish to know about the Isle of Wight, sir? Hmm. Well, yes, I have it-Ventnor is quite picturesque. It lies on the southeastern coast, I believe. I have sent the duke and duchess of Portsmouth a watercolor of Dunsmore House to thank them.”

Corrie said, “I didn’t know you did watercolors, Hallie.”

“Well, I do, actually, but I didn’t do this one. There simply wasn’t enough time. I commissioned it from a young man we found painting on the beach.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t have time?” Hallie’s father asked, his fork still over his plate, an eyebrow up. “I found two weeks more than ample time for me to do everything I wished in London.”

“You forget, Alec,” Douglas said. He snapped his fingers. “At certain times in life, time goes by that fast.”

Baron Sherard said, grimmer than any reaper, “Not when we’re speaking of my daughter, it doesn’t. Whenever I thought about her with your damned son, knowing what damned sons are like, since I was one once, my belly cramped.” Alec sent a look of acute dislike to his new son-in-law.

Lady Lydia announced, “I never had a honeymoon worth speaking of.”

“I don’t speak of mine either,” Angela said.

“When we finally had a honeymoon,” Alex said, beaming at her husband, “I believe we spoke French the whole time.”

The earl rolled his eyes.

Lady Lydia snorted. “Always after my boy, you were-still are-don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing when I was visiting on Wednesday, laughing behind the estate room door. It’s a disgrace.”

Hallie sat forward, all earnest, her eyes on her father’s face. “Two weeks on the Isle of Wight is nothing like two weeks in London, Papa. There was so much to do-”

“Like what?” her father asked.

“Well, like eating and sleeping now and again, and watching the sun rise, not to mention the sunsets.”

Douglas caught his wife’s eye, then smiled at his new daughter-in-law. She looked glorious, she glowed, her eyes were bright, she sparkled, she was complacent. And she couldn’t seem to stop laughing. What she was, Douglas thought, was a pleased woman. As for his son, Douglas realized Jason looked content, perhaps he even looked at peace. He wondered if Hallie was pregnant yet. He wouldn’t be surprised.

Corrie, far more innocent than she’d ever believe, said, “I visited the Isle of Wight only once, as a child. Uncle Simon got vilely seasick, so he swore he wouldn’t ever leave his dinner in The Solent again. You remember, Hallie, The Solent is what they call the strait in the English Channel between Southampton and the Isle of Wight.”

“Of course I remember. Hmm. We didn’t leave from Southampton, did we, Jason?”

“No, we left from Worthing.”

Corrie said, “Is the bright red house still on the hill overlooking the harbor?”

“Red house, you say? Jason, do you remember a red house? On a hill overlooking the harbor?”

Jason looked perfectly blank.

His twin said, “That’s all right, Jase. What’s a red house in the big scheme of things? What did you do besides visit Ventnor?”

Jason continued to look perfectly blank.

“We went down on the beach,” Hallie said, and raked her fork along the tablecloth just like she was raking sand. She paused and her hand trembled. Jason knew exactly what she was thinking.

He cleared his throat, couldn’t think of a single word to say. His mother obligingly said, “Oh, you mean the beach off the right side of the promontory, not fifty yards from Dunsmore House? Did you swim?”

“Yes,” Hallie said. “we were there most nights, except when it was raining.”

“Nights?” Lady Lydia asked. “My dear child, you and your precious new husband went swimming in the evenings?”

“Oh yes,” Hallie said, beaming. “There was no one about after the sun went down so we-oh dear, never mind that. Fact is, we did plan to swim one day after we’d eaten a lovely picnic lunch on the beach beneath a lovely tree, but then-” In a flash of inspiration, Hallie said, beaming at her mother-in-law, “We were invited to Lord and Lady Lindley’s house twice. Very charming people. Weren’t they, Jason?”