“I want to be king, Charlotte, king in my own house. Please, darling, please let me be king and you be queen. Nothing you could possibly do when we make love could ever disgust me. It was just rage speaking, not my genuine feelings.”

Charlotte’s lips quivered. “But what if you get angry at me again?” She drew in a shaky breath. “I know you’re right; I don’t behave like a lady. And I would rather not risk your rage again.”

Alex rolled over to lie on his back. This was a facer. He had ruined everything. He hadn’t trusted her; well, now she would never trust him. And that was the end of his dream of an erotic marital union, born of the encounter in the garden years ago, and nurtured stubbornly even during the awful years with Maria. It was over. He stared up at the stone ceiling, his mind hollow.

Then he felt a warm naked body press against his side, and a tousled curly head pressed against his chin.

“Shall we try again?” At first he didn’t understand her whisper, and then he remembered his question. He had asked it only an hour or so ago, but it felt like a century. He turned his head slowly. His wife was looking at him, her beautiful dark eyes no longer brimming with tears.

Charlotte pressed her fingers against his mouth. “If you promise to trust me,” she said shakily, but oh so sweetly, “I promise to trust you. If you believe me, I will believe you about this. I will never sleep with any man other than you in my life, as God’s my witness, and if you will promise never to reproach me with my behavior when we make love … well, I will simply resign myself to behaving like a harlot—at times.”

The gleam of amusement in her eyes evaporated as her husband rolled over, grabbing her in his arms and entering her with one swift, almost brutal stroke. Charlotte spontaneously cried out, her body throbbing with joy, her hands clutching his shoulders.

The night was very long. Alex left the bed only to pile more wood on the fire. They made love and slept; Charlotte woke up to find that a burgeoning presence was demanding to enter her body. Her immediate welcome made Alex’s breath catch and he buried his face in her throat, hoarsely stating that he didn’t deserve her. But when his wife started to tickle him in unusual places … well, his mind couldn’t concentrate on its well-deserved self-reproach. He retaliated, and they finally went back to sleep, replete.