“Scully,” she whimpered.

He shed his own things, kicking off his boots first, then getting out of the clean shirt and trousers June-bug had provided from Jacob’s wardrobe, Scully’s own clothes being too dirty to be married in. By the thin light of the lamp, he looked like some fabled warrior, a conqueror, ready to claim the spoils of war. “This is gonna take a while,” he warned, and drew her close, so that their bodies touched, flesh to flesh.

She didn’t know precisely what to expect, in the way of her own reactions, at least, but whatever was about to happen, she wanted it. And soon. She whimpered again, surrendering. There was nothing quick about this, nothing furtive and secret. Scully obviously meant to take his sweet time, for him, for them both, it was a celebration.

He chuckled and kissed his way down one of her shoulders, at the same time cupping the opposite breast in his hand. When he bent and kissed her nipple, then took it full into his mouth, she gasped with pleasure and rose onto her tiptoes, as if to offer herself more fully. The sensation was wholly new, reckless and sharp.

He lifted her up into his arms, still suckling gently at her breast, and carried her to the bed. Evangeline felt every pulse in her body as a separate drumbeat and, despite the open window and the distinct chill of a spring night, such heat surged through her that she buckled when Scully laid her down, curling up like a dry leaf in a fire.

Her husband stretched out beside her, kissed her thoroughly, and took his pleasure at her other breast, all the while soothing and arousing her with long strokes of his right hand. He was greedy and languorous by turns, and by the time he began moving down along her breastbone and her belly, Evangeline was half frantic.

“Shh,” he said, making a feather-light circle around her navel with the tip of his tongue. “Not yet, darlin’.”

“Dear God, Scully—” she pleaded once, though for precisely what she did not know. What were these wild, frenzied feelings he stirred within her? Wasn’t he going to lie on top of her, like Charles had done, and enter her?

Then suddenly he was there, there in that secret place that clamored for him even as Evangeline tossed from side to side on the mattress, as wild and uninhibited as any she-wolf mating in the timbered hills under that wide, cold moon. He reached up and took a gentle hold on one of her well-suckled breasts, which only made the fire in her lower belly burn hotter. When he parted her, and took that hidden nubbin of flesh into his mouth, she cried out, consumed.

He was relentless, driving her deeper and deeper into the flames, until finally, with her back curved high off the bed, she exploded in a series of delicious, convulsive jerks. Scully, his hands firm under her buttocks, lowered her tenderly to the sheets, though only when she was utterly spent, and stretched himself out over her, careful not to give her his whole weight.