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considered escaping and running for the hills, but before the idea had time to blossom she plucked it ruthlessly by the roots and tossed it away. Why shouldn’t she indulge in a bit of passion? She was a married woman, for heaven sakes. And still a virgin , a little voice mockingly reminded her.
    “Oh, do shut up,” she snapped.
    “What?” Henry asked, frowning down at her.
    “Not you.” Belatedly realizing that did not clear up the confusion whatsoever, Margaret gave a frustrated shake of her head. “I was just recalling that I was a… oh, never mind!”
    Henry captured a long curl of her fiery hair and twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. Staring at it in rapt fascination, he said in a voice so husky it sent shivers racing through her, “A kiss shall restore my bruised pride, I think. Yes, a kiss should do it. Nothing more, nothing less.”
    “Nothing more?” Margaret said before she could stop herself. Chagrined, she pinched her eyes shut as her cheeks suffused with color. “Forget I said that,” she muttered.
    Henry chuckled. Releasing her hair, he traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertips as his other hand dipped lower to span her waist. Everywhere he touched her she felt her skin grow hot, even through her clothing. Part of her wished he would hurry up and kiss her already… but the other part, the new, exciting part, yearned for him to draw out this moment into eternity. She opened her eyes and her breath caught when she saw the intense concentration on the Duke’s face. His jaw was clenched, his mouth tightly set. If she didn’t know better she would think he was in pain.    
    “I believe I have changed my mind,” he said.
    “A-about the k-kiss?” she asked shakily.
    “No, not the kiss. I have changed my mind about your choice of dress. I now find your attire to be quite…” He paused. The hand encompassing her waist shifted down. Margaret forgot to breathe. Clever fingers tugged her shirt free from the waistband of her breeches and pulled it up, stopping just shy of her breasts. She squeezed her eyes shut again. The mattress squeaked as he shifted, moving lower. “Delectable,” he murmured against the smooth skin of her stomach.
    “Oh,” she sighed. “Oh, I feel quite faint. Do that again.”
    Another chuckle, this one as wicked as they came. Henry nibbled, licked, and kissed his way across her ribcage. Margaret mewled like a kitten. He ended above her belly button and when his tongue swirled inside the tiny crevice she couldn’t help but buck her hips off the bed and clutch his thick, luxurious hair in her hands.
    With a low growl he shot up the length of her body. His hands framed her face and for an instant she was caught in the depths of his brilliant green eyes before he lowered his head and his mouth sought hers in a possessive kiss that robbed the very breath from her lungs.
    Margaret had never been kissed so rashly. So dominantly. So… so utterly wickedly . His tongue forced her lips apart and slipped into the dark recesses of her mouth, boldly stroking. On a gasp he broke away only to suckle at her jaw, the curve of her neck, the delicate skin of her earlobe.
    Helpless, Margaret clung to his broad shoulders and let him do as he wished. If this was to be her penance for hurting his pride then she would gladly fight with him every day of the week and twice on Sundays.
    Henry sought her mouth again and she relinquished it readily, arching into his kiss with a desperate need that surprised them both. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to illicit a purr from the depths of her throat. She raked her nails down his back and he groaned, trembling beneath her touch. She wanted… more. Something she could not name. In quiet desperation her hands swept lower, to the hard curve of Henry’s hips. And then as suddenly as the kiss had begun it ended when Henry pulled away from her and sat back, his eyes pinched tightly shut and his breathing