“Of course I have,” she said crossly. “And I have to admit, I’m not sure it’s worth the bother, given that I am going to be in pain and you are going to suffer a three-day headache as a result!”

“I’ll ask you tomorrow whether it was worth it, shall I?”

“If you are correct, you’ll be lying in a dark room tomorrow,” she snapped.

“Hmmm,” Quill said. He didn’t want to think about that. “You know, Gabby, you’re absolutely right. Let’s proceed rationally.”

She noticed that his wicked grin was firmly back in place. He stood up as well, and his hands went to his waist. She stilled, and her heart started pounding in her throat again.

Quill took off his pantaloons and started unbuttoning his smalls.

He pushed the white linen down his hips casually, as if he were alone. But in fact his hands were shaking and his negligent attitude was deceptive. Gabby hadn’t looked at him yet. He waited, watching as her eyes slid down his body.

He heard her gasp.

He turned away and walked over to the fireplace. He lit two more candles that were standing on the mantelpiece and carried them over to the bed. Twilight was drawing in and the room was growing shadowy.

Gabby’s eyes raced down the tight line of his buttocks as Quill crouched to light the fire already laid in the hearth.

“Quill,” she said, despising the weakness of her own voice.

“Yes?” He stood up and turned around, and oh, he was just as magnificent as she had thought.

Quill walked over and said, “Time to remove your chemise, darling.”

Gabby gulped and unwrapped her arms, which were tightly crossed on her chest again. Quill undid the ties at her waist, and strong masculine hands pulled up the soft pleats of her chemise. There was a moment of airy blindness and then Gabby found herself standing naked before her husband.

He didn’t touch her. For a second he couldn’t breathe. A dark flame surged through his body at the sight of his wife. She was so beautiful, her skin like milky cream, smooth expanses blooming into full breasts. It was torture not to touch her, not to brush her shining strands of hair behind her shoulders, not to run his hands over her generous curves.

In the fireplace, a log caught in a crackle of sparks. Fireglow leapt across the room, danced over creamy female hips and powerful male legs.

“Here we are,” he said gently. “As God made us, Gabby.” His throat was tight with lust, but he steadied himself. He couldn’t frighten her—he had to get this right or the rest of their married life would be plagued by her idiot father and his nasty ideas.