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  After a moment’s silent thought, Travis came to her, lifted her chin in his hand, and studied her face. “You’ve been crying a lot,” he said quietly. “You didn’t think I was coming back, did you?”

  Jerking away from him, she walked to the head of the bed. “No, of course not. It’s just—”

  A soft chuckle from Travis made her turn. He was naked, standing like some god of old in a wealth of fragrant flowers, and she began to smile too. He had returned to her, and he’d gone to a great deal of trouble to give her what she wanted.

  Travis’s eyes, looking at her in the sheer gown, turned hot with desire. “Don’t I get a reward for all my work?” he whispered, opening his arms to her.

  With one giant leap, Regan flew at him, her arms going about his neck, her legs around his waist.

  Surprised for a moment, Travis caught her. “How could you think I’d leave you after all the trouble I’ve gone through to get you?” he murmured before fastening his lips to hers.

  The feel of his bare skin, cool and damp between her legs, made her shiver with pleasure as she tightened her legs about his middle until she threatened to sever him in half. Only the thin bit of silk between them kept their skin apart as she rubbed against him, her breasts nearly crushed by the hard mass of his chest.

  Her hands went to his hair, pulling on the wet thickness of it, her fingers disappearing into it as her lips made a hot trail across his mouth. He was here; he’d come back to her, and he was her husband, hers to do with as she wanted.

  In glee, feeling powerful, she bit his earlobe much too hard.

  Within an instant she found herself pulled from Travis and being flung through the air, landing in an explosion of flowers of hundreds of shades and hues and a swirl of delicate silk. Brushing four daffodils off her face, she smiled up at Travis as he stood over her, hands on hips, muscles bulging, manhood towering.

  “Now that’s the way a bride should look.”

  “Stop talking and come here,” she laughed, holding her arms up to him.

  But instead of going to her, he knelt and kissed her toes, one by one, his tongue teasing the soft pads. His hot mouth moved to the bottoms of her feet, and as he raked his teeth along the arch she jumped as a nerve inside her tightened, jolting her entire body.

  Travis laughed, a deep rumbling sound that touched her foot, traveled up her leg, and reverberated in the center of her being.

  “Travis,” she gasped, lifting herself and reaching for him. Flowers under her crackled and released their heady fragrance. But he ignored her as his lips moved upward to her knees, exploring, kissing, caressing.

  Regan, ready for him, actually eager for him, felt she would go insane as he toyed with her senses. His mouth tortured one leg, and as if that weren’t enough, his hand, so strong yet so sensitive, caressed the muscles of the other leg until she was weak with helplessness. Yet at the same time she felt like a tigress, wanting to claw and bite, wanting to tear at this man who threatened her sanity.

  When he reached the center of her with his hands and lips, she nearly screamed, rolling her head in agony at what he was doing.

  “Please, Travis, please,” she begged.

  Within seconds he came to her, his mouth hard on hers, but no harder than hers as she attempted to devour all of him. When he entered her, she arched high, completely off the bed, supporting him, needing him, using her hips to drive him onward.

  His passion was as great as hers and his need as violent. After only a few powerful, deep, filling thrusts, his body jerked, and he clutched her to him in a bone-crushing hug as spasms racked both their bodies.

  It was several moments before Regan realized she couldn’t breathe, that Travis seemed to be trying to pull her inside him, and that she wanted him to.

  As he relaxed his grip but still held her, his face buried in her neck, she opened her eyes and saw a long line of crushed flower petals clinging to his sweaty skin. Turning her head, breathing deeply of the lovely fragrance, she began to laugh as she put out her hand, grabbed some flowers, and playfully tossed them into the air.

  One eyebrow lifted, Travis moved to look at her. “And what is so amusing?” he asked.

  “Flowers for the bride!” she laughed gaily. “Oh Travis, I meant a bouquet, not a whole garden.”

  Leaning across her, he grabbed a handful, catching the flowers upside down and sideways, and he held out the funny bouquet. “I’m sure you could find what you wanted in this.”

  She moved out from under him, rolling in the flowers, tossing clumps into the air, and then began pelting him with them. “She wants flowers,” Regan laughed in a mock deep voice. “I’ll give her flowers. Oh Travis, everything you do is so…so big!” she laughed, trying for the right word. “Everything is so oversized, blown out of proportion, overpowering, domineering.” Sitting up, watching him, looking at that magnificent body reclining lazily on a bed of flowers, her heart seemed to turn somersaults.

  “Perhaps,” she said in a cat-soft voice, “not all of you is overpowering all the time.”

  After a sharp intake of breath, Travis grabbed her by a handful of silk, but a short, sharp scream from Regan stopped him.

  “Don’t you tear one more piece of my clothing,” she warned, but flung the silk gown off before he could disobey her.

  “Orders and taunts,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he lifted himself up onto all fours and began to stalk her like some great beast of prey.

  With a squeal of delight, Regan backed away from him, bombarding him with flowers as he slowly came toward her. When she was backed against the wall, she threw her hands up in surrender. “Oh, kind sir,” she said in mock fear. “Do what you will with me, but do not take my virtue.”

  Her skin alive, anticipating Travis’s delicious pounce, she was startled when he uttered a heartfelt “Damn!”

  Turning her head, she saw that he’d sat up, holding his knee. “How can you crawl around on these damned things without injury? Look at that! Have you ever seen a thorn that big?”

  Regan burst into laughter so hard her stomach threatened to split. Her knees drawn up, she rolled in laughter.

  Pulling the thorn from his knee and angrily tossing it onto the floor, he gave her a nasty glare. “I am glad I afford you some amusement.”

  “Oh Travis,” she cried. “You are so, so romantic.”

  He stiffened at her sarcasm, his mouth turning into a straight line. “Why the hell did I get you all these goddamn flowers if I wasn’t the very soul of romance?” he demanded seriously.

  This statement, and especially the way he said it, sent Regan into new spasms of laughter, and it took some minutes before she became aware that she was hurting his feelings. He really had tried, she admitted to herself. It wasn’t his fault if he didn’t understand that a bunch of violets was often more romantic than enough flowers to fill a wagon. She’d said she wanted flowers, and he had gotten them for her. And neither was it his fault that a thorn in his knee forced him to interrupt a lovely little romantic game.

  As he started to leave the bed, she put her hand on his shoulder and swallowed her laughter. “Travis, the flowers are lovely. I really do like them.” When he didn’t respond and she saw the muscles standing rigid on his neck, she really was sorry that she’d laughed. He’d done what he did to please her, and all she did was laugh.

  “I’ll wager I can make you stop being angry with me,” she whispered, nuzzling his ear, her teeth running along the cartilage edge, her tongue touching the lobe. “Maybe if I kiss your sore knee, it will stop hurting,” she murmured, running her lips down his arm.

  “It might,” Travis said, his voice especially deep. “I’d sure like to try it.”

  Regan, aware of how he’d tried to please her, wanted to please him. Pushing him gently, she found he was putty in her hands, and the look of wonder and pleasure on his face was intriguing. The strength of him surrendering to her was a powerful feeling.

  Beginning at his knee, her lips traveled upward,