"I'm celebrating because it's not my wedding day." Sacha's smile faded, and his eyes filled with morose tears as he touched her cheek with a gentle finger. "Poor little imp."

"She seems to be doing better than you are at the moment," Galen said as he caught up with them. He threw open the door. "Come on, I'll help you up the stairs."

"Not necessary." Sacha lurched through the door toward the staircase. "I'm perfectly able to—" His foot slipped on the second step, and he pitched forward.

"Perfectly able to fall flat on your face."

"I stumbled," Sacha said with dignity. "How do they expect a man to see to get up the stairs with only one candle left burning?"

"Strange that I have no trouble seeing." Galen helped Sacha to his feet and slipped his arm around his waist. "I've just finished nursing Selik, and have no intention of acquiring another patient."

"Are you comparing me to a horse?"

"Only when you're sober. When drunk, your intellect bears a distinct resemblance to that of a sun-addled camel."

"Insult upon insult."

"What else can you expect from a barbarian?" Galen started up the steps, bearing at least half of Sacha's weight.

Sacha began to sing beneath his breath.

"Shall I call his servant?" Tess asked.

"Sacha no longer travels with a servant." Galen paused to shift his hold and drape Sacha's arm about his neck. "Said takes care of both of us when we travel."

"Indeed?" Tess closed the front door and watched them climb. "How odd." The Sacha she had known had always traveled with a full entourage of servants ranging from cooks and valets to grooms.

"Not so odd. Servants get in the way when traveling in the desert." Galen had reached the top of the steps and looked down at her. "Go to your chamber. I'll join you shortly."

She felt the smile freeze on her lips as shock rippled through her. "You will?"

"Of course."

"Of course," Tess muttered. What else could she have expected? This was her wedding night, wasn't it? A child was part of the bargain, and she was no ninny, ignorant of how one was conceived. Yet he had said he would give her time, and she had thought—

"Tess," Galen said softly over his shoulder. "Go to your chamber."

Tess nodded jerkily and flew up the staircase, edging around him and Sacha to get to her chamber. She should not feel so disappointed by Galen. She knew that few men kept their word to the women of their households. She slammed the door behind her and pressed back against the panels, her heart pounding wildly, her cheeks fever-hot. It would not be so terrible once she got used to it. Pauline had actually liked being mounted. Tess had often heard her beg for it.

But Tess was not Pauline.

Still, she had made a bargain and must keep her part of it.

Undress. She knew that was part of it. To ready herself for the act, she must shed her clothing. She should be unclothed when Galen came to her.

Tess drew a deep breath and pushed away from the door. Her fingers went to the delicate pearl buttons marching down the back of her spring-green gown.

Five minutes later she was completely nude and lying beneath the covers. The room was warm. There was no reason for her to be shivering. Everything would be fine. Pauline liked it, and the woman at the cafe had not seemed to mind when the sailor fondled her bre—

The door opened. Galen stopped just inside the door and lifted the candle he carried. He saw Tess huddled against the oak headboard and his lips tightened with displeasure. "How delightful to have such an accommodating bride. I admit I didn't expect to find you so compliant."

"I don't feel compliant." Her voice was trembling, and she forced herself to steady it. "I have no liking for this."

The grimness faded from his expression. "Then why are you being so meek?"

"It's not meekness. It's honor. We clearly cannot have a babe if I do not accept you into my body."

"I see." He closed the door behind him. "But I believe I told you I could wait for consummation."

"But you said—" Relief surged through her. "I thought you'd changed your mind."

"I keep my promises. You'll be the first to know when I change my mind." He set the pewter candle-holder down on the closest table, removed his coat, and laid it across a chair. "I have no intention of forcing you."

"It wouldn't be force. A bargain is a bargain."

"It's a quirk of mine that I prefer enthusiasm to forbearance." He untied his striped cravat and pulled it off. "You may not conceive a child at once, and I dislike the idea of you gritting your teeth every time I touch you."

"I cannot promise you enthusiasm." Her hand clutched more tightly to the blanket. "I don't think I'll care for it. Though I admit I'm a little confused by it all. Pauline likes it, but I have seen mares mounted by stallions that don't look as if they're very… "—she paused, searching for the correct word—"comfortable."

"Comfortable?" He smiled. "No, there's little comfort in it. And I can't promise you there will be no pain, but I believe you'll find it interesting." He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. "When I show you the way of it."

She stared at his powerful muscles. They ridged his shoulders, grew large on his upper arms, and chest. Her gaze followed the black triangle of hair on his chest to where it disappeared into the waistband of his black trousers. His flesh looked like burnished bronze. A queer fluttery feeling started in the pit of her stomach. "If you aren't going to fornicate with me, why are you removing your clothes?"

"I'm going to bed."

"With me? Why? You have a chamber of your own."

His lips twisted. "Unlike the nobility of Tamrovia, in Zalandan husbands and wives not only sleep in the same chamber but the same bed."

"How peculiar. I should think the lack of privacy must be something of an imposition." She shrugged. "Oh well, I suppose I'll become accustomed to it."

"I trust so. Lower the cover."

She stiffened, her eyes widening. "What?"

"Sit up and drop the cover. I want to look at you."

Her cheeks began to sting. "I see no purpose in looking if you're not going to do anything."

"There's a purpose. Lower the blanket."

She forced herself to release her grasp, and the cover fell to her waist. She felt as if her flesh were ablaze as she lifted her chin defiantly to glare at him. "What rhyme or reason is there in exposing myself? I'm no beauty like Lady Camilla. You'll get no pleasure from staring at me."

"No, you're no Camilla." His gaze lingered on her shoulders before traveling down to her breasts. "But sometimes the smaller jewel has the most beautiful facets."

"And sometimes the facets are so small you can't tell whether they're beautiful or not." She couldn't breathe. Her breasts felt tight, yet they were swelling under his gaze. "May I pull up the blanket now, my lord?"

He slowly shook his head, his gaze never leaving her breasts. "I think not. I believe we're making progress."

"Toward what end?"

He smiled. "Why, to the end of becoming accustomed to each other. From now on you will sleep naked in my bed, and I will fondle and caress you whenever I am moved to do so." He sat down in the chair by the door, pulled off his left boot, and dropped it on the floor. "Kneel on the bed, facing me."