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proven how easily she would succumb to him, how fast he could bring her body to the point where she actually craved him.
    “Your bedchamber is part of the master’s chamber,” Graeme said. “I thought of putting you elsewhere, but decided it wouldna look right for the laird’s wife to sleep away from her husband.”
    Relief spread through Blair. “You dinna intend to . . . to . . .”
    “Consummate our marriage? Your father is dead. I see no reason to do something you obviously find abhorrent.”
    “But I thought ’twas necessary.” God’s nightgown, she sounded as if she were begging!
    Graeme shrugged. “Only if you want it. ’Twas your decision to keep our marriage free of intimacy, not mine.”
    He paused before an open door and ushered her inside. “You should be comfortable here.”
    More than comfortable, Blair thought as she surveyed her surroundings. The chamber, softened by candlelight, had obviously been intended for a lady. Feminine colors decorated the bed hangings and two long windows, and the walls were hung with colorful tapestries, keeping drafts at bay. Besides an intricately carved bed that rested on a dais, there were a dainty writing desk, dressing table, wardrobe, rocking chair, and several benches placed before the hearth.
    “The chamber is lovely,” Blair commented. “I shall be quite content here.”
    “If there is anything you desire, just ask Jamie.”
    “Is there a stillroom where I can dry my herbs and mix my salves and simples?”
    “Aye, beyond the kitchen garden.” He sent her a probing look. “I meant what I said, Blair. There will be no casting of spells at Stonehaven.”
    She whirled away from him and walked to the window. “Do you fear me, Graeme Campbell?”
    “I fear no woman, lass, witch or nay.” He reached her in three long strides and turned her to face him. Raising her chin with one long finger, he stared into the turbulent depths of her violet eyes. “Say the word and I will make you my wife in more than name. Right here, right now.”
    She lowered her lids, unable to look at him without feeling guilt over her decision. “I thought you understood why I canna give my body to you.”
    “Perhaps I would understand if you explained it to me again.”
    “The Prophecy says the Faery Woman who loves in vain will lose her powers.”
    “I have heard the Prophecy. It says the Faery Woman must undergo ordeals of fire, water and stone, but it says naught about refusing her husband his marital rights.”
    “I am afraid.” The admission trembled from her lips.
    “Afraid of what? That I will hurt you?”
    “You could hurt me, but not in the way you think. My father did you no favor by asking you to marry me. You deserve a wife who would love you.”
    Graeme frowned. “Are you saying you canna love me?”
    “You yourself admitted that you loved another. I could lose my powers if I were to love you and you didna return my love. You say you have heard the Prophecy, yet you dinna believe in it.”
    “You’re right. I dinna believe in Faery Women or spirits. The Prophecy is a cruel joke one of your ancestors thought up in a moment of madness.” His gaze intensified, and his hands dropped to her shoulders. “I could make you want me, Blair. You dinna have to love me. I wouldna ask that of you.”
    His hands curved around her narrow shoulders and he brought her against him. Heaven help her! His body was hard, and the heat emanating from him was melting her from within. Then he lowered his head and took her mouth, kissing her slowly, with rising passion. The pulse in her throat beat erratically and moisture gathered between her legs, hot and liquid, and she moaned into his mouth.
    Without volition her hands slid over his back, fingers grazing tense muscles. He deepened the kiss, using his tongue to acquaint himself with her taste as her hands moved up to curl around his neck and tangle in his dark hair.
    Oh, no, what was she doing? As if from a great distance she