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the library at Seadrift when that jackass rubbed your belly and declared he wished the babe was his? Might that not have a tad to do with it, as well?"
    "It might."
    Conar snorted. "It had everything to do with it, woman. If he lays another hand to you, he'll draw it back as a stump."
    Liza started to laugh, but her husband lifted her face so he could stare into her eyes. She sobered when she saw his stern expression.
    "Of all the men in all the world I do not want you near, Brelan Saur is at the top of the list. Do you understand, Anya Elizabeth?"
    When he used her full name, she knew he was being deadly serious. "Aye, Milord, I understand."
    "I don't want you to see him. I don't want you to correspond with him. I do not want you to have anything to do with him. Is that understood?"
    His fingers were hurting her, but she did not protest. "Aye, Conar."
    He relaxed and threaded his hands through her hair to bring her face to his. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, then placed a feather-soft kiss upon her lips. When he lifted his head, he smiled softly, then swept her up in his arms, heading toward the huts.
    "Conar!" she protested, laughing.
    "I intend to love you well and truly, Liza McGregor," he said as he started down the trail.
    "Distraction that I am?" she asked, lowering her head to his shoulder.
    He chuckled. "You are a distraction I have learned to enjoy."
    Sentian looked up as his Overlord kicked open the door to the hut. The warrior stood, grabbed the mending he'd been doing and darted past the prince and his lady. "Have fun," he said over his shoulder as he closed the door.
    "I intend to," Conar called and grinned when he heard Sentian's answering laugh.
    With infinite care, he laid his wife on the bed and sat beside her. His gentle smile was filled with peace and pride in the lovely woman who belonged to him.
    Liza lifted her arms to him; he stretched out beside her. She drew him to her, molding his long body to hers and pulled his head to her breast.
    "I have one request," she said.
    Conar looked up from unlacing her gown's bodice. "That being?"
    "No more tantrums."
    He craned his neck. "I've had none since we've been here, despite Thom annoying me with…"
    "I don't know what caused such ill temper, Milord, but I'll have no more of it." She sternly looked at him. "And no more drinking, McGregor. You can not handle it."
    He drew in a long breath—his fingers stilled at her bosom—then nodded as he slowly exhaled. "No more liquor." When she arched a black brow, he crossed his heart. "I swear it!"
    "And no more dallying where you ought not to be dallying, else I'll relieve you of the ability to dally with that tallywhacker of yours."
    Conar's face turned crimson at her use of the vulgar word, but he understood her command.
    "Now," she said. "Show me how well this man loves his woman, Milord Conar."
    He eased apart the laces of her bodice and slipped his hand inside. Her quick intake of breath as he molded his hand around her breast caused his manhood to leap in anticipation. He pressed her hand to the juncture of his thighs.
    "This man loves his woman more than any man has ever loved a woman in the history of time," he whispered.
    "You make it hard for me not to appreciate that." She giggled.
    Conar laughed and lowered his lips to her breast. "I will," he said, capturing the turgid peak between his teeth and speaking around the sweet obstruction, "make it harder still, Milady."
    Liza reveled in her husband's touch as he undressed her. A cool breeze drifted in from the window. For a moment, she worried about a passerby looking in, but as Conar's urgency increased, all thoughts vanished from her mind save the expert ministrations of her husband's sure hands.
    There was still sadness in his eyes, she thought as he smiled at her before molding his hard body over hers and nudging apart her thighs. She realized the tragic death of their son had humbled this proud man more than anything that had happened to him