"Pray, do not start sniveling, Emily."

She blew her nose on a hankie she found in the pocket of her loose wrapper. "She cried often, you know. But almost never around my father. She loved him, you see, in spite of his ways. She used to tell me it was no use blaming him for his excessive gaming. It was in the blood, she would say."

"Emily, your emotions are overset. You had better go to bed."

"Oh, do stop being so bloody condescending, my lord." Emily sniffed back the last of the tears and stuffed the hankie into her pocket. "When my mother and brothers realized I could keep the family afloat financially, they told me it was my duty to do so. I shall never forget that on her deathbed my mother took my hand and told me I must look after my father and brothers. Without me they would all soon find themselves under the hatches, she said, and poor Papa could not live without plenty of money."

"I really do not wish to hear any more of this nonsense, Emily."

"It is not nonsense. It is reality. The reality you told me I never face. Well, you may rest assured I have faced it all my life, my lord. And I bloody hell do not like it. But it will not go away, so I shall continue to confront it when I must."

"Including the reality of our marriage?" he drawled in a dangerous voice.

"Our marriage is a different matter altogether. It is a pure and noble union of souls, even if you do not yet see it that way."

"No, Emily, it is not pure and noble. It is damn real. Just as real as your father's profligate ways and my vengeance. Perhaps it is time I made you confront that fact."

She frowned at the strange tone in his last words. "What are you talking about, my lord?"

"I am talking about teaching you to face the truth about why I married you. I am no hero, Emily."

"Yes, my lord, you are. You simply resist seeing yourself in that light. Probably because you fear it will make you appear weak to yourself or to others."

"Good God, woman, you are incredible. I know of no other female who can concoct such fancies," Simon said between his teeth. "You really do need a lesson." There was a deliberate pause and then he spoke again, his voice lower and harsher than ever. "Come here, Emily."

She did not move. Her own emotions were in a turmoil.

"Come here to me now, madam. I am in no mood to humor any of your romantic notions tonight."

She turned very slowly to confront him. She was suddenly, deeply wary. "What do you want of me, my lord?"

His hard mouth curved in a cold, taunting smile. "What do you think I want, wife? I told you the reasons I married you."

"So you did, my lord. I believe you said it amused you to marry me. And it suited your notions of vengeance."

"There was another reason, if you will recall. You are as yet rather unschooled in the delights of the boudoir, but you are learning fast. And you show such enthusiasm for the task, my dear. I would like you to demonstrate a bit of that enthusiasm now, if you please. Come here and apply yourself to your wifely duties."

The iciness of the command was alarming. There was no warmth or passion in Simon's face, only a savagely controlled fury.

"You are truly enraged with me because I prevailed upon you to rescue Charles," Emily whispered. "I did not realize it would make you so angry, my lord. Such fury can only stem from the fact that you think you have shown great weakness in obliging me. Please, Simon, do not view your rescue of Charles in such a light, I beg you."

"As much as I enjoy having you beg occasionally, you may do so some other time, madam. Right now, I want to bed you."

Simon stripped off his dressing gown and stalked across the bedchamber to the massive, four-poster bed. He was completely naked and the candlelight flickered on his skin, emphasizing the smoothly sculpted muscles of his back, his flat, taut stomach, and his hard buttocks. The soft light also revealed his aroused manhood.

Even as Emily watched uneasily out of the corner of her eye, his shaft swelled and hardened further. She clutched the lapels of her wrapper in one hand and looked away.

"You see the effect you have on me?" Simon asked as he slid into the bed. "You should be pleased, madam. It is a form of power, is it not, to be able to make a man react so instantly to your charms?"

"Not everyone thinks in terms of power and manipulation, my lord."

"You are wrong, Emily. Just as you are wrong about so many other things. Come here."

Emily hesitated and then very slowly she obeyed. She approached the bed with great caution, still clutching her wrapper tightly. She realized suddenly that she was dealing with a wounded dragon tonight. They were old wounds, true enough, but they had been freshly opened. The pain could cause even a man of Simon's nobility and character to slash at any hand that came within reach.

But she also knew that the dragon needed warmth and love tonight. He needed her. And while he might scorch her a bit with a few stray flames, he would not really hurt her.

Simon would never hurt her, never in a million years. She remembered the promise he had made to her on their wedding night: I vow I will always protect you, Emily. Whatever else happens, know that I will always take care of you.

Emily let the wrapper slide to the floor as she came to a halt beside the bed. She saw Simon's eyes go to the outline of her hips revealed through the fine lawn of her gown. That heated gaze traveled slowly, deliberately upward to where her nipples were pushing against the delicate fabric.

Emily felt exposed. She was accustomed to seeing controlled passion in Simon's expression but not this laconic, taunting look. She quickly got into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She waited nervously for him to touch her. She was certain that once he did, all would be well.

Simon made no move. He folded his arms behind his head and studied her with mocking amusement. "Well, madam? How do you expect to ensnare me with your excessive passions from under that pile of blankets?"

Emily blinked. "You are waiting for me to… to do something?"

"I am waiting for you to show me what you have learned thus far as a wife."

"Oh." Emily absorbed the implications. He wanted her to make love to him. The notion intrigued her greatly. She could explore him to her heart's content if she were in charge of the lovemaking. She could indulge herself, learn the feel of him, show him how much she loved him.

Emily turned on her side to face Simon. Tentatively she put out a hand and touched his shoulder. He did not move. She edged closer under the covers and kissed his bare chest. The scent of him stirred her senses.

Emily twisted her fingers gently in the crisp hair. She moved still closer and kissed one flat, masculine nipple. Simon drew a deep breath.

"You appear to learn quickly, madam wife," he muttered.

Emily paid no attention to the cutting edge of his tongue. "I love to touch you, Simon. You are so hard and sleek and strong. Like one of your beautiful, jeweled dragons come to life."

"You are not afraid I will rend you to pieces?"

She smiled faintly, bent her head, and touched the tip of her tongue to his chest. "You would not do that."

"You are very confident of your power, are you not? Perhaps a little too confident."

"It is not a matter of power, Simon. It is a matter of love."

Growing bolder now, she began to stroke him slowly, lingeringly. She felt the tension in the muscles of his thighs and realized with surprise that he was having to exert enormous control over himself.

"Relax, my lord." She squeezed the taut muscles slowly. "You are far too tense. I expect it is a result of all your efforts on behalf of my brother."

"You think me tense?"

"Very. Here, I will see if I can help you grow calm." Emily threw off the last of the covers and knelt beside Simon. Ignoring the blatantly thrust shaft of his manhood, she began to gently, firmly squeeze and stroke the long muscles of his thighs and calves.