"DON'T TALK, JUSTIN," SHE CHIDED SOFTLY. "KISS ME. PLEASE."

Even the knowledge that he would be damned for all time couldn't have kept Justin from obeying. His mouth took hers hungrily, but even under the sudden onslaught of possession he was careful not to hurt her. Megan reveled in the hot passion of his mouth, in the steely strength of his arms.. She was shaking by the time he lifted his mouth from hers.

"I love you," she whispered, reaching up to stroke the bristly line of his jaw. He sucked in his breath sharply, his eyes darkening with passion.

"My darling," he said, and bent his head to kiss her again.

Megan could feel the unsteadiness in his fingers. The knowledge that she, so young and ignorant in the ways of men, could have such an effect on this man whom she loved was intoxicating. Fiercely she longed for him to finish what he had started, to touch her breasts and the rest of her. She wanted him to love her until she died of it.

"Hell and damnation!"

Justin Brant, sixth Earl of Weston, swore furiously as a stream of icy rainwater rolled off the already saturated brim of his slouch hat to find its way with devilish accuracy to the bare skin at the back of his neck. He clenched his teeth as the freezing water trickled down his spine. Damn the ungrateful little minx to hell, he thought angrily. When he caught up with her-as he would, and before too many more hours had passed-he was willing to wager anything one liked that he would soon cure her of her disobedient tricks once and for all!

The many-caped driving coat he wore was not intended for riding down an Irish excuse for a road in inclement weather. It left altogether too much of him exposed to the rain and wind that had been nowhere in evidence when he had left Galway that morning. With the predictable unpredictability of all things Irish, the downpour had descended upon him without warning; within five minutes, he had been drenched to the skin. His usually gleaming Hessians, the pride of Manning, his valet, were all but unrecognizable, and he was reasonably certain that both his dove gray pantaloons and once snowy neck cloth were ruined past saving.