She crossed her arms and shrugged, refusing to let him see the way his simple words made her shiver.
"Are you wondering why I haven't kissed you, or why I haven't slipped my hand beneath your skirts just to see if you're already wet for me?"
Her chin stiffened with the effort to stay silent.
"Are you, wife? Are you wet for me?"
"I. . ." When she licked her tingling lips, he chuckled again. The sound sent spiraling tremors down her legs. All the moisture had left her mouth, but there was plenty of it elsewhere, just as he suspected. Alex squirmed.
"You could tempt a saint, Mrs. Blackburn, and I'll not pretend I'm not aching to sink inside you, but it's your wedding day—the only one you'll have, I hope—and we'll not consummate it in a carriage."
"Please?"
He laughed outright then and ran a shaking hand through his hair; the sight of it cheered her a little. "By God, I'd like to. I'd like to set you on your knees and—" He broke off to clear his throat. "But you're mine now, Alex, and I can stand to wait until I have you in a proper bed."
Her insides clenched and clenched again, but if he could stand to wait, she supposed she could too. His reasoning escaped her though. Really, what more romantic place to consummate their marriage than on the drive away from the wedding breakfast? Perhaps he simply didn't understand romance. Too bad he had such a thorough understanding of control. It was almost a character flaw.
"Fine. I am not a slave to my lust. What shall we do to pass the time?"
"A slave to your lust," Collin laughed, irritating her further. "I suppose I wouldn't mind if you were."
"Well, I'm not. Now what?"
Who could have known the man grinned so much? She told herself not to kick him. Really, that was not the story she wanted to tell her grandchildren. Well, not much of this story could be told at any rate, but the wedding had gone off smoothly. There had been no shouted objections in the church. Her breasts had not popped from her bodice at any time. And she had not once been discovered in a compromising position, primarily because Collin refused to indulge her. Propriety. Control. What had she gotten herself into?
"Have I told you how lovely you are today?"
Alex started, surprised from her brooding thoughts. Collin's eyes glowed with warmth as they swept over the daffodil-yellow length of her dress. Her irritation melted away.
"And you are the most handsome man I've ever married."
"Really?"
"Truly."
"Witch."
She tossed her head, pleased with her small revenge. "Since you refuse to do your husbandly duty, I suppose we must talk."
"I suppose."
"Will you tell me about my new home? About your family?"
"Hmm." His brow furrowed and he glanced out the window to the cloudy skies above. Alex was rather surprised to realize that he was truly thinking what to tell her. "Westmore is very old. It's large and the lands are lovely, but it's a wild place. Not what you're used to at all."
"I shall love it, I'm sure."
His mouth flattened. "We'll see. As to family . . . I have none, really. My mother has lived in Dundee these five years. She's married now and I see her rarely, though I'm certain she will be curious to come meet you."
"Have you told her?"
"I wrote her immediately, to tell her I'd found a bride. She'll be pleased."
"But did you tell her I'm English?"
"Aye." His mouth relaxed, and Alex felt some anxiety leave her shoulders when his eyes touched hers. "She will not mind, caitein. She encouraged me to embrace my father's blood. We had many fights about that over the years."
"Why?"