Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

SYD STIFLED HER laughter at the look of surprise on Octavian's face.

In the next moment, he rose, almost knocking over his chair in his haste. "Are you done, Syd?"

"Yes." She set aside her table linen and rose along with him. "Did I just shock you?"

"You delighted me. Care to go upstairs?"

She nodded and placed her arm in the crook of his elbow. "I'm ready."

In truth, she was ready in so many ways.

Ready to retire upstairs to their guest chamber.

Ready to shed her clothes.

Ready to be intimate with Octavian.

She was still scared beyond belief because he was too good to be true. How could he accept her with all her faults? He had none, that was for certain. In truth, it was terrifying because he was so perfect and she was so imperfect.

"Love, you are fretting again," he said, sparing her a glance as they walked to their room.

Love.

The endearment warmed her soul.

How did one go about making this feeling last and grow deeper over time? "Yes, I am not very good yet at handling happiness. It worries me."

He gave her cheek a light caress. "Trust me to show you the way."

Her heart was in palpitations as they entered their room.

Octavian closed the door and secured the latch.

However, Syd did not feel trapped with him. Despite his brawn and often stern demeanor, he was soft as pudding on the inside when it came to her. She did not understand why he was so kind and caring, or accepting of her prickly disposition when she so often riled him.

"Will you trust me, Syd?" he asked again, coming to her side to assist in unlacing the ties of her gown.

She raised her arm to give him easier access. "Yes, not a doubt."

He gave her a light, lingering kiss on the neck that completely shattered her resistance. Not that she had any intention of resisting. But with one kiss, he had turned her body liquid. When he planted another lingering kiss on her neck and wrapped her in his arms, her body turned to fire. "Octavian, I…oh, dear heaven. Do all the ladies respond like this?"

"Syd, it is just you and me. No one else matters."

"But I've never done anything like this before. You are the only man who has ever kissed me. For all my book learning, I am at a loss when it comes to real life experience. I suppose I spent too much time with cadavers instead of living, breathing men, just as you have often accused."

"No talk of dead people just now, all right?" he muttered with a chuckle.

She nodded. "Yes, I see your point. Forgive me. As you can see, I am quite the fluttering peahen just now. Especially since you have removed my gown and are starting to unpin my hair."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" She sighed. "Just ignore my rambling. I am very eager to do this, but you mustn't take that last step, Octavian. Not yet."

His hands stilled as they were gently sliding through her tumble of curls. "Exploration but no claiming the treasure?"

"For your sake, not mine. I have no doubts or concerns for myself."

He turned her to face him and tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. "Your concerns are for me? Syd, I do not want this to be a pretend marriage. I do not want you to leave me when you turn one and twenty. I want to be with you until you are one hundred and twenty. Why are you resisting?"

She tried not to tremble, for he would feel it in the cup of his hand as he held her delicately by the chin. "You mustn't be so quick to accept me," she tried to explain. Why was he being so thick about this? She was a Harcourt, which meant something was going to happen to disappoint him and have him running from their marriage. "Please, Octavian. Can we not take this slowly?"

He emitted a groaning laugh and gave her chin a light tweak before releasing her. "Of course, Syd. We'll go at your pace. I want to devour you. But, very well. I am not going to rush you."

"Oh, I've squashed your ardor, haven't I?" She cast him a worried glance.

His smile in response was affectionate. "If you are asking whether I still want to undress you and carry you to bed, the answer to that is…yes, I do. I'll just have to work a little harder to keep myself in control."

"And by demanding this, I am spoiling your pleasure." She silently kicked herself for saying anything to this wonderful man. But this was what she did best, ruin things. Isn't this what her mother had always said about her?

He took a moment to hang up his jacket on a peg by the hearth. "It's almost dry," he commented while feeling along the fabric. Next, he removed his shirt and came back toward her with his glorious muscles on full display. "The only way you would disappoint me is not to join me in that bed. With or without clothes. It is entirely your choice."

She cast him a determined look. "Without."

"And so it shall be." He sank onto their bed, smiling and chuckling as he began to remove his boots.

She watched him. "Will you help me out of my corset and shift?"

He nodded and came to her side. He had gotten as far as undoing one of the buttons of his falls before she had asked the question. There was something quite arousing about the way that one side of the fabric dipped down to almost reveal him.

His grin meant he knew the effect he was having on her.

By the time he stripped her out of her corset and shift, she was awash in intimate sensations, most of them hot enough to make a courtesan blush. He settled her on the bed and pressed on, now naked himself while positioning himself atop her on the soft mattress. His weight rested on his arms so as not to crush her, but she adored the feel of his body atop hers.

And deeply regretted insisting he keep to her wishes and not claim her maidenhead. But she soon found out there were other ways to claim her and Octavian appeared to have mastered them all.

He savored her breasts, licking and teasing the hardened buds. Then he moved between her legs and put his mouth there , suckling her and swirling his tongue until…oh, heavens. Powerful sensations washed over her, catching her up in a tidal wave of feelings. Unstoppable heat and pressure that kept building inside her until the pressure released and she was carried off to an unknown place.

She cried out Octavian's name.

Goodness, she loved his name.

It suited him so perfectly.

She cried out for him, repeating his name with ache and wonder.

"I have you, love," he whispered, stroking her body with exquisite gentleness as she soared and then soared even higher.

She held onto him when he wrapped his arms around her to hold her in his protective embrace. She held on as she tumbled over the edge of reason into the deep waters of indescribably passionate sensations.

All the while, Octavian soothed her and told her she was beautiful. "You are, Syd. So beautiful," he said and kissed her with searing heat and tender possession.

He made her feel cherished while he soothed her and held her until this storm of new sensations passed and she calmed.

She was still breathing heavily when he rolled onto his back and brought her along with him so that she was comfortably settled atop him.

"Syd," he said softly, "how do you feel?"

She wanted to cry because she felt so happy, but did not want to end this moment with tears, even if they were good tears. Instead, she smiled back at him and gazed into his gorgeous, gray eyes that still held the heat of smoldering embers. "I feel wonderful," she admitted. "And scared by these feelings you stirred in me. They are so potent, Octavian. Does this happen with all the women you take into your bed?"

"Do not compare yourself to anyone. Nor could I tell you truly how anyone else felt, for they never meant anything to me and I meant little to them. I know it sounds harsh, but it was reciprocal apathy. Those women were using me as much as I was using them. They could have been faking, for all I know."

"With you? No." She shook her head emphatically. "I do not think any woman could resist you."

He kissed her gently on the cheek. "That is because you genuinely like me. Indeed, you like me more than you are willing to admit. But these others ladies? I have no idea. Nor do I particularly care. Perhaps that does not speak well of me. I never sought out women of sterling character to satisfy my urges. The ones I bedded would lie to me through their teeth if they thought there was advantage to be had. Not you, though. You would always be honest with me."

"Even if I lied, you would see through me." Indeed, he would see straight into her heart because he understood her so well, her every gesture, her every nuance. Even if she were stone-faced, he could still tell what she was thinking.

"Syd, you do not have it in you to ever lie to me. Defy me, yes. Irritate me, constantly."

"Octavian!" She had remained atop him, warmed in the circle of his arms and the heat of his skin. But she laughed because this is what she was– defiant and stubborn– and there was no denying it. "You are a beast to say such things to me."

He gave a low growl and kissed her. "And you are also beautiful, smart, passionate, and my heart fills with elation whenever I am around you."

"I feel the same around you…and yet, I am still so scared it will all come undone. The Harcourt curse. I don't want to end up miserable like my parents."

"You won't, sweetheart. You are nothing like your parents. We are not going to repeat their mistakes."

She nodded against his chest. "I hope you are right. But I cannot shake this awful feeling that something will arise to put a rift between us."

He ran his fingers lightly through her hair. "You will be of age in less than nine months, Syd. If no disasters strike, will you make our marriage permanent? Do this for us, won't you? Give us a chance."

"Octavian, by the time I come of age, you will be eager to get rid of me."

He frowned. "I am not getting rid of you. Put it out of your mind and stop wishing for it to happen."

"Wishing for it?" She shook her head and let out a mirthless laugh. "I am desperately hoping it does not happen. Please, no more speaking of this tonight. Let us enjoy the moment. I'd rather fall asleep with a smile on my face."

"Fine," he said, obviously wondering how to deal with her dread. It was going to hang over her head like the sword of Damocles unless she learned to simply accept they could be happy together.

She was trying, but it was still so hard for her to do. "Can we try this again, Octavian? Soon?"

" This being my hands and lips all over you?"

She nodded. "I like the way you touch me."

"Yes, Syd. As often as you desire."

She nibbled her lip, suddenly finding another reason to fret.

Did he now think her too forward? She was setting rules, refusing to consider their arrangement permanent, and yet wanting this intimacy often. How often was too often? What was not often enough?

Since her head was still resting on his chest, she felt his rumble of laughter. "Octavian, why are you laughing?"

"Because you are fretting over nothing. Only you would be worried about the terms of our intimacy. I'm a man, Syd. If you want to get naked and give me your body, I am not going to refuse you. If you want me to get naked and allow you to explore my body, have at it."

"You would allow this? Even with my rules?"

"Even with your rules. There is no right or wrong number of times we engage in…giving each other pleasure or how we choose to do it," he said with that uncanny ability to read her mind. "How far we go is up to you. If you want limits, then there shall be limits. That's all there is to it."

"What if one of us wants to do more and the other one doesn't?"

"I am not going to force you to do anything you are not ready to do, Syd. We will figure it out at that time."

"You make it sound so easy," she grumbled, because if it really was as simple as he made it out to be, then why were her parents so horrible to each other?

"It is easy because we are sensible people who care about each other and have the wisdom to deal with their differences intelligently."

"You think I am sensible?"

His chest shook as another rumble of laughter escaped him. "Yes, Syd. I think you will come to the right decision…although it won't be without giving me a headache or two along the way, because that is you. In turn, I'm sure I will give you a headache or two because that is me. We are both obstinate when we want to be. But our marriage will be unbreakable as long as we are understanding and forgiving of each other."

"I would add another caveat, that it shall not be one of us always doing the taking and forcing the other to do all the forgiving."

"It won't happen, Syd. Stop fretting about it. I would not call either of us takers ."

"But I took everything tonight and gave you nothing in return."

He arched an eyebrow. "Are you referring to my neglected male parts? We'll address that next time or the time after. Whenever you are ready. Seeing you respond to my touch was pleasure enough for me tonight. You gave me that, and it is no small thing on your part."

"Because I trust you."

"I know."

Syd listened to the rain pelt their window.

She fell asleep to the pitter-patter against the panes and the steady rise and fall of Octavian's chest against her cheek. Her last memory before she dozed off was of the gentle stroke of his hand as he ran his fingers through her hair to caress her.

Let this be our life.

Please.

Please.

Don't take this away from me.

The sun was shining by the time Syd awoke the following morning. She sat up, noticed Octavian's side of the bed was empty, and hastily gathered the sheet around her body. Neither of them had bothered to put on nightclothes before falling asleep, and she was not used to sleeping naked. It helped to have Octavian's big, warm body beside her during the chill of the rainy night.

But their lack of clothing was still embarrassing.

She could have tossed on a shift or nightgown afterward.

She wiped the sleep from her eyes and then realized she must have slept quite soundly because Octavian was already washed, shaved, and dressed in his uniform.

He smiled at her. "Good morning."

She smiled back. "Good morning. You look rather marvelous this morning."

"So do you. That sheet is quite becoming on you. The height of fashion."

She playfully tossed the pillow at him.

He came to her side and gave her a scorching kiss on the lips. "I know I said I would walk you to the seamstress shop, but I did not have the heart to wake you. You were curled up like a kitten beside me and did not respond when I kissed you earlier. I thought it best to let you sleep, especially after last night's exertions."

Heat shot into her cheeks. "I did not exert myself."

He arched an eyebrow.

"I was merely engaged and curious. Mostly, I lay there and responded to your touch."

He laughed. "Is that all?"

"You were very manly," she said with a sigh, recalling last night's pleasure. "I was transported."

"Go on." He kissed her lightly on the nose.

She could not contain her smile. "It was most satisfying, as you well know. Just look at the smug grin on your face. But the fact remains, you did the lion's share of the work."

Oh, he did look so proud of himself.

"It was all pleasure on my part," he said. "Not a bit of work. And you were very responsive. I think you howled."

"Octavian! The very idea!"

He gave her cheek an affectionate caress. "The seamstress shop is just down the street. The innkeeper or anyone one on his staff can direct you. I'll be gone most of the day, but will return to collect you at six. Don't forget, we have that early supper with Commodore Wainright. Have the innkeeper send word to me if you need me to return sooner."

She shook her head. "I'll be all right on my own. I'm used to it. Don't worry about me. I won't bother you."

"You are never a bother," he said, casting her a hot, hungry look. "Gad, you're pretty."

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. "I am sure I look a mess."

"No, you are perfect." He kissed her again, claiming her mouth with a ravenous urgency. "I'll send up one of the maids to help you with your gown."

As soon as he left, Syd grabbed her shift and tossed it on. She then set about readying herself for the day. First stop would be the seamstress because she needed warmer garments. The light muslins she had taken from Adela's armoire were never going to protect her from this harsher, northern climate where the air cooled precipitously once the sun went down.

She decided that her first purchase ought to be a woolen shawl that she could use immediately since she intended to hike to the Campbell farm next to inspect the merino sheep for the Armstrongs.

Miss Granger was the local seamstress, a charming woman who appeared to be about forty years old, and had a crisp, efficient manner about her. "Och, Mrs. Thorne. Good morning," she said, bustling to the front of the shop to greet Syd. "Yer husband said to expect ye. I should have known ye were lovely by the sparkle in his eyes when he spoke of ye."

Syd smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger. What else did my husband say?"

The seamstress waved her hand lightly in the air. "Ah, men. He gave me explicit instructions you were to have the best of everything. No less than five gowns with all the trimmings and accessories."

"Five!" Syd shook her head in resignation. "I only thought to acquire two. We're only here for a fortnight."

"Well, it gets rather cool at night and often in the daytime as well. Ye'll freeze if ye go around wearing those thin clothes. Let's choose the fabrics and colors, and then I'll make up three gowns for everyday wear and something a little nicer for evening entertainments. Captain Thorne is soon to be promoted to admiral, and him already in the highest social circles means you and he will be invited to dine with all the best families in the area. Ye'll catch yer death if ye go out in that thin material, even if it is elegant. I have girls in town that I'll call in to help me get these new gowns sewn fast."

Syd spent more time than she intended in the shop, but she had fun chatting with Miss Granger as they selected the color and style for each gown. She also acquired stockings, shawls, and gloves, making certain at least one of the gowns and its accompanying shawl featured the Earl of Greenock's clan colors. Just as important, she relied on Miss Granger to alert her to the colors not to be chosen because they belonged to an enemy clan.

The bitter violence between these families had long since ended, but some lingering rivalries remained. Most were lighthearted disagreements and some were more serious, but she was not looking to inadvertently give insult no matter the reason.

Being measured and pinned took longer than Syd realized.

It was already past noon by the time she returned to the inn. The kindly innkeeper hustled toward her when she spotted him in the common room. "How long do you think it will take me to walk to Mr. Campbell's farm and back?"

"Och, no, Mrs. Thorne. Let me have one of my boys drive ye in our rig. Ye'll never make it there and back in time for supper with Commodore Wainright."

Did everybody know of their plans?

Well, it was a small town and Octavian was probably the most exciting outsider to visit this place in ages.

Goodness, he had looked so handsome in his uniform this morning. Dark hair, striking gray eyes as sharp as those of a jungle cat, broad shoulders, and trim, muscled torso. How could any woman ever resist him?

Well, she could have done so if he'd turned out to be a complete ass.

But he wasn't.

He was intelligent and kind.

His perfection still scared her to death.

The innkeeper's sister packed a lunch for her and had it ready when her nephew drove the rig around. "I'll be escorting ye, Mrs. Thorne. Let me help ye up," the young man called Ewan said. He hopped down and then held out a hand to give her a boost into the seat beside his. "My wife is one of the seamstresses who'll be helping Miss Granger with yer gowns."

"Oh, that is lovely."

"The town is abuzz over ye and the captain. He's a good man. Been here several times already."

"Yes, he's told me how much he loves the area."

"We're hoping he finds Greenock meets the navy's needs. Canno' lie to ye. We need the work."

Syd nodded soberly. "It is his wish, too."

The horse jogged along country roads and beautiful scenery for almost an hour before Ewan turned the rig inland down a small lane. A gray stone farmhouse with smoke wafting from its chimney came into view. The farmhouse looked to be small, perhaps containing only a common room and a small bedroom, but the barn was much larger and appeared to be very well maintained. Mr. Campbell obviously valued the comfort of his sheep more than his own.

A tall, lean man leaning heavily on a cane ambled toward them followed by four big dogs. By the look of them, Syd surmised two were border collies designed to herd sheep and the other two were just big and scary looking, designed to keep strangers such as the Armstrong reivers from stealing said sheep.

However, she doubted these lowland reivers ever ventured this far north to steal from their countrymen. It was quite all right to steal from the English, however. "Ewan, lad. What brings ye out here?" the old man asked the innkeeper's son, but stared directly at Syd.

"This here is Mrs. Thorne, wife of Captain Octavian Thorne. Do ye remember him, Mr. Campbell?"

"Och, aye. Big fellow."

Syd smiled. "Yes, that's him."

"Mrs. Thorne would like to purchase a few of yer sheep," Ewan said.

The smile on his sun-leathered face faded as his old eyes regarded her thoughtfully. "Ye've made the trip for nothing, Mrs. Thorne. My sheep are not for sale."

"Not at any price?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Looking to toss money at me?"

"Within reason," she said with a nod. "You see, my husband and I encountered a clan on our journey north a few days ago, fellow Scotsmen of yours who have fallen upon hard times. They need an industry to support their clan, so when I heard of your fine sheep, I–"

"Ye thought I'd sell some to ye for those lowland reivers?" He huffed in disgust. "So they sent a woman, a Sassenach, at that, to do their bidding?"

Syd tried not to bridle at the term commonly used to describe the English. Sassenach. Octavian had told her what it meant when Angus Armstrong had used the word to describe her. It was usually spoken in a dismissive tone that revealed it was not a compliment. Indeed, there was a long history of hatred for the English among the Scots, and perhaps she ought to have considered this fact before undertaking the journey to the Campbell farm.

However, she maintained her friendly smile rather than resort to usual form and toss back a cutting remark. The crotchety, old man was looking for any reason to kick her off his farm and she was not about to give him one.

Octavian would have been proud of her poise.

She was showing remarkable restraint. "They did not send me, Mr. Campbell," she patiently explained. "I expect they would be highly insulted if they knew what I was doing."

"Then why are ye doing it?"

"That is a fair question," she replied with a nod. "You Scots are too proud to accept help from anyone. In fact, you'd rather cut off your nose to spite your face."

Ewan chuckled. "Och, aye."

"But there are women and children to think about, not to mention injured soldiers whose wounds will never heal sufficiently to allow them back into military service. The sick and the elderly. What is to happen to them if we do not extend a hand to help? My husband and I are not offering charity, but only hoping to provide the means for them to survive. These are your countrymen. All I am asking for is ten sheep to get them started."

"And compete with my woolen prices?"

"You are a three day journey from the English border. Any wool produced by them would be sold no further north than Moffat. In all likelihood, they would go south to sell their wool in the English cities of Carlisle and Chester where they can command higher prices. They would not be competing with you at all. I understand you sell your wool in Glasgow and Aberdeen."

"Who told ye that?"

She shrugged. "One hears things."

He scowled. "Ye've been poking yer pert, little nose in my business and I dinna like it."

She cleared her throat. "And I would require another ten sheep for me."

Mr. Campbell emitted a bark of laughter. "For ye, lass? What use would ye have for my sheep?"

"I intend them as a gift to the Thorne family, in gratitude for all they have done for me."

He arched a thick, gray eyebrow. "And what is it they've done for ye, Mrs. Thorne?"

"Saved my life," she said with a wealth of feeling, surprising even herself when tears suddenly formed in her eyes. "Oh, dear."

She quickly wiped them away.

Ewan cast her a worried glance. "Yer driver, Mr. Henshaw, told my aunt what happened to ye. Ye were indeed brave, Mrs. Thorne."

"Her? Brave?" Mr. Campbell sighed. "Come in, lass. You too, Ewan. I'll put on some water for tea and ye'll tell me what happened to ye."

She understood that honesty was the only way to be with him, so she related a shortened account of Sir Henry's obsession with her, omitting mention of Mr. Douglas having shot the villain because it was sufficient to relate that he'd met a just end after his attempt to harm her. She also mentioned her worries about her missing father. However, she made no mention of her marriage to Octavian being a sham.

That was no one's business but hers and Octavian's.

In truth, she and Octavian cared for each other deeply. If not for this looming fear she had that something dreadful was going to happen to destroy their chance at happiness, she would have grabbed onto him with both hands and continued to hold onto him with all her heart and all her might until her dying breath.

"Others have suffered far worse than me," she said, bringing an end to the abbreviated tale. "But I do understand fear and despair. This is why my husband and I hope to provide help wherever we can. I am doing it with the purchase of sheep and my husband is doing it with the hope of bringing the navy shipbuilding contracts to Greenock."

Ewan grinned at the old man. "What do ye have to say to that?"

"Mind yer business, Ewan," he barked back. "I'll think about it, Mrs. Thorne. But dinna get yer hopes up. Those sheep are my livelihood. I canno' afford to give them away at any price."

Syd tried not to look disappointed as she thanked him for his time. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Campbell."

"And ye, Mrs. Thorne. Ye're all right for a Sassenach ."

Ewan turned to her once they were back on the road to Greenock. "Ye gave it yer best try. He hasn't parted with a single one of his flock since he stole them out of Spain decades ago."

Syd nodded and wrapped her newly purchased shawl tighter about her shoulders as the wind picked up and now had a decided chill to it. "Well, I got a cup of tea and shortbread out of the visit. Thank you for taking the time to escort me to his farm. Brrr, the weather turned nasty rather quickly." She glanced up at the darkening clouds in the sky. "Will we make it back to the inn before it rains?"

"Aye, just about make it." Ewan flicked the reins to get their horse moving at a trot.

The first raindrops fell just as Syd darted into the inn. "That was close!" she said with a laugh, greeting the innkeeper with a breathless smile.

"Och, aye. Yer husband was worried for ye."

Her eyes widened. "He's here?"

"Aye, Mrs. Thorne. Came back almost an hour ago and has been fretting over yer safe return ever since. I sent him into the common room for an ale because he was pacing back and forth in front of the door with a fearsome scowl on his face and chasing my customers away," he joked.

She hurried into the common room that was quite crowded, which proved even Octavian's fearsome scowl was not enough to scare a determined Scot away from his pint of ale. "Octavian!" she called to him from the doorway, but he had already seen her and was coming toward her with relief etched on his handsome features.

"You're back. I was so worried about you." He picked her up and gave her a quick twirl before kissing her and then setting her back on her feet with a quick hug. "Tell me all about your day."

Everyone had been watching them and grinning as Octavian behaved most improperly by kissing her in public.

Their smirks were good-natured, and she certainly did not mind Octavian kissing her. Even his briefest kisses were packed with steam and turned her insides liquid.

He led her back to his table and held out a chair for her. "We're to have supper in two hours with Commodore Wainright, but are you hungry now? Shall we order a little something to hold you over?"

She cast him an impish grin. "I always knew you were a mother hen at heart."

He laughed. "No, just a worried husband."

"A doting husband," she said warmly. "You're back early. Is everything all right?"

He nodded. "I accomplished all I could today. It took less time than I expected, so I returned here."

"Oh, I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"You couldn't have known. It's all right, although it felt like an eternity. I'm glad you had one of the MacLean boys as escort and did not walk all the way to the Campbell farm on your own."

"The fitting for my new gowns took much longer than expected since someone insisted that I acquire no less than five gowns," she teased. "I had a lovely time chatting with the seamstress."

He placed a hand over both of hers as they rested on the table. "I would have ordered an entire new wardrobe for you, but that would have made you angry."

"Not angry," she hastened to assure him. "Your generosity is much appreciated, but not necessary. Perhaps it will be needed when we return to London. My father will be angry and might not allow me to get my clothes out of the house, that is assuming he is still alive."

"I'm sure he is alive," Octavian said with a nod of certainty. "As for your wardrobe, don't think twice about it. We shall deal with the situation when the time comes. I'll have every modiste in town attend to you, if necessary. How did your sheep-purchasing jaunt go?"

She sighed. "It didn't. Mr. Campbell is a lovely fellow, but he is not going to part with any of his flock."

"Sorry, Syd. I know you had your heart set on those merino sheep. We'll come up with another plan."

"Seems we have no choice but to acquire local breeds. They won't turn as much of a profit for the Armstrongs, but it is better than their having no wool at all."

"You gave it your best. That counts for something."

"I don't know. He has over a hundred in his herd now. I wish he had agreed to sell me a few. He would not even negotiate."

"We'll be here for at least another week. Perhaps you'll wear him down."

She laughed. "Yes, irritating people is my specialty. Isn't it?"

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "Syd, after last night," he said with a delicious huskiness to his voice, "you can do no wrong in my eyes. I have no complaints about you."

She blushed.

Yes, last night.

She couldn't wait to leap into bed with Octavian again tonight.

His conquering grin revealed that he had read her thoughts.

"You have to stop doing that," she muttered.

He leaned back and held his hands out while casting her an innocent, but unmistakably smug, look. "Doing what?"

The man did not have an innocent bone in his body.

He was gorgeous and he knew it.

He also knew how to pleasure women.

The big ox knew he had left her well pleased.

"Reading my mind." Worst of all, he knew she had absolutely no resistence to his charms and would melt, moan, writhe, and do other embarrassing things the moment he got her back in bed. "You are a rogue and a scoundrel. You do know this, don't you?"

"I beg to differ. I am neither a rogue nor a scoundrel."

"Then what are you?"

He leaned closer and took her hands in his once again. "A husband who wants this marriage to be real. Who wants to wake up to find you beside him every morning of his life."

Did he not understand she was desperate for this, too?

"Octavian…" She struggled to breathe, for his words were a painful ache to her heart. What if she allowed him in and then lost him? She would never recover from that.

"Bollocks." He shook his head and sighed. "Never mind. Forget I said that. It was not my intention to pressure you into making a decision. Are you hungry, Syd? Want something to tide you over until supper? Mr. MacLean's come to take your order."

Yes, she was famished.

It wasn't for food but for the happiness Octavian offered her.

Why was her heart so filled with dread?

Why was she so certain their marriage would not work out?