Harry responded with a groan that was half laughter and half oath. "Silence, sweetheart. You must have a care, love."

"I am sorry, but I cannot seem to keep quiet when you touch me like that. It feels so very odd, Harry. I vow I have never felt anything like it."

"Damnation, woman. You do not have an inkling of what you are doing to me, do you?" Harry shifted, changing position quickly. He swung the greatcoat off his shoulders and spread it on the green cushions. Then he moved again, stretching Augusta out on the coat. Her knees were raised because of the close quarters.

When Augusta opened her eyes, Harry was crouched beside her. He bent over her, opening her shirt with feverish impatience to bare her breasts.

Augusta was just growing accustomed to the touch of his hand on her upper body when she became aware of the fact that Harry was jerking off her shoes and tugging her trousers down over her thighs.

"My lord? What are you doing?" She stirred restlessly on the cushion, half lost in the daze of sensual awareness that was enveloping her. Harry's warm hand cupped her softness with shocking intimacy and she trembled.

"Tell me again that you want me," he muttered against her breast.

"I want you. I have never wanted anything so much in my life." She arched against his hand and heard him groan. All thought of protest faded away once more, to be replaced by a spiraling need. She cried out again and Harry's mouth was suddenly back on hers, silencing her gently.

Augusta shuddered as she felt him shift position once again. He was on his knees between her legs now. She realized he was fumbling quickly with his breeches.

"Harry?"

"Hush, love. Hush."

She gasped as his weight came down on top of her, crushing her into the cushions. He had settled himself between her thighs before she fully realized what he intended.

His fingers slid down between their bodies, stroking her urgently, parting her. "Yes, love. That's it. Yes. Open yourself for me. Just like that. Lord, you are soft. Soft and moist for me. Let me feel you, darling."

The husky, coaxing words spilled over her. Augusta felt something hard and unyielding pushing slowly but steadily against her softness.

Panic flared for an instant. She should stop him, she thought vaguely. He would surely regret this in the morning, perhaps blame her again, just as he had last time. "Harry, I do not think we should do this. You will think me wanton."

"No, love. I will think you very sweet. Very soft."

"You will say I encouraged you." She gasped as he pressed harder. "You will say I made certain promises again."

"The promises have already been made and they will be kept. You belong to me, Augusta. We are engaged. You have nothing to fear by giving yourself to the man who will be your husband."

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely certain. Put your arms around me, love," Harry muttered against her mouth. "Hold me. Take me fully inside you. Show me that you truly want me."

"Oh, Harry, I do want you. And if you are certain you want me, if you will not think me sadly lacking in virtue—"

"I want you, Augusta. God knows I want you so badly I do not believe I will survive until morning if I do not have you tonight. Nothing has ever felt so right."

"Oh, Harry." He wanted her, Augusta thought, dazzled by the realization. He needed her desperately. And she longed to surrender herself to him; she ached to discover what it would feel like to be possessed by him.

Augusta 's arms tightened around his neck and she lifted herself tentatively into his strength.

It was all the encouragement Harry needed.

"God, yes, Augusta. Yes." His mouth fastened on hers as he thrust heavily into her.

Augusta, poised on the brink of a blazing sensual awareness, felt as if someone had suddenly tossed her into an icy cold pond. The shock of the intimate invasion roared through her. This was not what she had been expecting.

She gasped and cried out in surprise and dismay. The protest was no more than a muffled squeak, however, because Harry kept his mouth clamped savagely over hers. He swallowed her small exclamations, soothing her with his kiss. Neither of them moved.

Harry lifted his head cautiously after a moment. The soft light of the carriage lamp revealed the perspiration on his forehead and his tightly clenched jaw.

"Harry?"

"Easy, love, easy. 'Twill be all right in a moment or two. Forgive me, sweet, for rushing matters so." He dropped hot, urgent kisses along her cheeks and down her throat. His hands gripped her tightly. "You have made me drunk with desire and like any drunkard I have blundered about in a clumsy fashion when I should have used more grace and skill."

Augusta did not respond. She was too busy adjusting to the strange sensation of having Harry deep inside her.

For a timeless moment Harry continued to lay absolutely still on top of her. Augusta could feel the rigid tension in him as he held himself in check.

"Augusta?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are you all right, love?" he demanded through set teeth. He sounded as though he were exercising every ounce of self-control he possessed.

"Yes. I think so." Augusta frowned as her body slowly grew accustomed to the impossibly tight, impossibly stretched sensation. Nothing had ever felt like this.

At that moment the coach bounced mightily as a wheel struck a hole in the street. Harry was driven even more deeply inside Augusta by the unexpected motion. He groaned. Augusta gasped.

Harry muttered something under his breath and rested his forehead on Augusta's. "It will get better. I give you my word on that, Augusta. You are so sweet, so responsive. Look at me, sweetheart." He cradled her face between his palms. "Damn it, Augusta, open your eyes and look at me. Tell me you still want me. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you."

She obeyed, lifting her lashes to survey his stark face. She realized that even as he fought to hold himself in check, he was chastising himself for having caused her discomfort. She smiled gently, deeply touched by his tender consideration. No wonder she loved him, she thought suddenly.

"Do not fret yourself, Harry. It is not that bad, truly. I doubt any real damage has been done. Not all adventures go smoothly, as we both discovered this evening in Lovejoy's library."

"Good God, Augusta. Whatever am I going to do with you?" Harry buried his face in the curve of her throat and began to move inside her.

Augusta did not particularly care for the new sensation at first, but she was slowly starting to change her mind— was, in fact, even beginning to find it all quite tolerable—when it was suddenly over.

"Augusta." Harry surged into her one last time, arched his back, and went violently rigid. Augusta was fascinated by the taut strength of him and the feral expression of raw masculine power on his hard face. She realized he was gritting his teeth against a hoarse shout and then he groaned and collapsed heavily against her.

For a moment there was only the steady jostling of the carriage and the distant sounds out in the street. Augusta stroked Harry's back soothingly as she listened to him drawing in great, ragged gulps of air. She decided she liked the warm, heavy feel of him lying on top of her, even though he was crushing her into the cushions. She even liked the scent of him. There was something unmistakably and utterly masculine about it.

Most of all, she liked the strange intimacy of the situation. She felt almost a part of Harry now, she realized. It was as if they had both given something of themselves to each other and were now bound in some indefinable way that had nothing to do with the formalities of an engagement.

It took Augusta a few seconds to identify just what she was feeling and then she had it. It was a joyous sense of belonging. She and Harry were together now, as if tonight they had created the foundation of a new family. A family to which she could fully belong.