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can talk about this notion of yours—”
    “We’ll talk about it now,” Melissa broke in, and even though she was smiling, she was talking through her small,white teeth. She grasped Quinn’s hand and all but dragged him through the dining car.
    In the privacy of their quarters Melissa stood beside the bed, flung her arms out wide, and toppled over backward onto the mattress. “Let’s get started,” she said cheerfully.
    Quinn stared at her in absolute wonder for a few moments, and then he began to laugh. It started as a chuckle and quickly advanced to a roar that stole his wind and made his sides ache.
    And still Quinn could not stop laughing.
    Melissa was stunned, filled with shame. She’d offered herself to her husband, and he was laughing at her.
    She raised herself up on her elbows, too proud to cry, though she was sure she’d burst if she didn’t find a way to give vent to all the confusing emotions clamoring inside her.
    Quinn finally recovered himself, collapsing into the chair where he’d sat reading to her only the night before. “I’m—sorry,” he gasped out, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.
    Melissa knew full well that he was not sorry, that he’d had a good laugh at her expense, and she sighed. “Don’t you want me?” she asked.
    Quinn’s expression was instantly and completely serious. “Very much,” he said gruffly.
    “Well?”
    He brought one booted foot to rest on his knee, took a cheroot and a match from the pocket of his jacket, and commenced to smoke. After an excruciatingly long time had passed he said in a pensive tone, “You’re simply not ready.”
    “Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”
    “Not after the way you fell spread-eagle on that bed, I don’t.”
    Melissa was mortified. It wasn’t as if she didn’t understand what went on between a man and a woman, because she did. And she’d certainly sensed the strange electricity that arced between her brothers and their wives.
    Quinn reached out and collected Melissa’s novel from anearby table. “Tell me,” he began wryly. “Do you write from experience?”
    Melissa wanted to slap him. “I told you that I was a virgin,” she hissed.
    “I didn’t believe you,” he immediately answered. “Not until a few minutes ago, anyway.”
    Embarrassed anew, Melissa sat up very straight and smoothed her skirts. She could not have spoken for anything.
    “What made you decide to give yourself to me, Melissa?” Quinn asked gently, after a long time.
    She sniffled, unable to look at him. “I was remembering when we—when we kissed this morning. I developed all these strange feelings.”
    Quinn chuckled. “Then there is hope,” he said, so quietly that Melissa almost missed the words. Then, more loudly, he added, “Why don’t you lie down and rest until we arrive? You’re still not completely well, you know.”
    Melissa looked at him imploringly. “Will you lie down with me?”
    He was silent for a moment, and very, very still. But then, without a word, he came to the bed, and he and Melissa stretched out on it together.
    His body was long and hard, but his muscular shoulder pillowed Melissa’s head comfortably. She snuggled against him and wondered at the low groan this elicited. It came from the depths of his chest, like some subterranean rumble.
    “Melissa,” he muttered, and the word rang with despair and hope and reprimand.
    Melissa had hoped to be ravished; instead she awakened, sometime later, feeling rested and strong. Quinn had long since left the bed, apparently, for he was standing in front of the bureau mirror, wearing clean clothes and freshly shaven.
    He turned and grinned at Melissa as the train whistle shrilled. “Well, Mrs. Rafferty,” he said when the ear-piercing sound had died away, “we’re home.”
    Melissa felt a strange mingling of panic and brash eagerness. “So to speak,” she said primly. Now that she’d nappedand gathered her forces she was glad that her