She smiled, snuggling up close to him, glad that she was feeling just intoxicated enough not to feel self-conscious about it. Anthony was sipping champagne himself, staring thoughtfully out the window. The silence was companionable, the champagne she had already consumed making her drowsy.

She wasn't sure why they weren't staying the night at Silverley, as she had assumed they would. Anthony had said something about not wanting to worry about the noise, and his own bed, and starting things out right. It had sounded rather ominous at the time, the part about the noise, but she couldn't remember why now. Probably only bride's jitters. After all, she had just signed away her independence, giving herself into the hands of a man she barely knew, and one who was full of surprises, least of which was that he wanted to marry her.

She had every right to be nervous before and after the fact. Hadn't he surprised her twice today, first by arguing about her conditions, and second by signing the marriage contract without having read it first?

Nicholas, who was witnessing the signing, had protested. She had herself, for that matter. But even after signing the damn thing, Anthony had still refused to read it. And now he was taking her back to London, the last thing she'd expected for tonight.

Frankly, she would have felt a lot more secure staying with the Edens this first night of her marriage. But she had made enough demands for one day and so hadn't protested when Anthony cut the celebrating short to leave. Granted, they'd had an early dinner, and the wedding ceremony had taken no time at all. It wasn't that late in the evening, though it would probably be midnight before they arrived at Anthony's town house.

She supposed she ought to take advantage of the ride and get some sleep while she could. She smiled again, for her first thoughts on seeing the blankets and pillows piled on the seats hadn't been about sleep.

She had been appalled to think they would be having their wedding night in the coach. After all, Nettie had been relegated to a smaller carriage to follow at a slower pace. They were alone, just the two of

them, in a coach that was certainly roomy enough to accommodate them for anything they might have in mind. The yellow glow of the coach lamp gave off a soft, romantic light. But no, Anthony had only suggested she nap for the return ride to London. He hadn't even taken advantage of their solitude to kiss her, just pulled her close and settled her against him.

She could blame the champagne for making her think her wedding night was going to start early. She wasn't even sure she was going to have a wedding night. After the fuss Anthony had made over her conditions, even if he did agree to them, she wouldn't be surprised if he just dropped her off and went on to visit one of his many women. And what could she say about it? In his own words, she had pushed him out the door.

Anthony heard his wife's sigh and wondered what she was thinking. Probably devising more ways to keep herself detached from this marriage. It was laughable, it really was, but of course he hadn't thought so earlier. Here he was taking a wife for the first time in his life, and she wanted to be no more than a mistress, and not even a possessive one. Did she feel nothing for him that she could blithely let him go from her arms to those of another woman? If he had wanted to continue to tomcat about town, he could have remained a bachelor.

It was perhaps a half hour later that the pistol shot shattered the quiet of the late hour and the coach came to a jostling halt. Roslynn jerked upright, blinking her eyes awake, in time to hear Anthony's soft curse.

"Have we arrived?" she asked, confused, as she glanced out the window to see nothing but pitch black.

"Not quite, my dear."

"Then—"

"I believe we're about to be robbed."

Her eyes swung to his. "Highwaymen? Then why are you just sitting there, mon? Are you no' going to do something?"

"My dear girl, this is England, and robbery is such a common occurrence that you come to think of it as donations to the needy. No one in his right mind travels these roads at night with anything of real value.

We empty our pockets and go on our way, with no real harm done. It will be over in a matter of moments."

She stared at him, aghast. "Just like that? And what if I dinna want to be robbed?"

He sighed. "I assume this is your first time?"

"Of course it is! And I'm amazed that you can sit there calmly doing nothing."

"And what would you suggest I do when I haven't a weapon at my disposal?"

"I have one.''

He caught her wrist as she reached for her boot and the concealed dirk. "Don't even think about it," he warned.

"But—"

"No!"

She sat back in a huff, glaring at him. "A fine thing when a husband willna protect his wife from brigands."

"Give over. Roslynn," he replied impatiently. "It's only a few pounds and trinkets."

"And a fortune in jewels in my portmanteau."

He gave her a level look, glanced at the bag on the seat opposite them, the same damn bag she had carelessly left in the hired hack last night, and snarled, "Bloody hell! Youwouldcart about a fortune, wouldn't you? Very well." A quick examination of the interior inspired no strategy. His eyes came back to settle on Roslynn speculatively. "Toss your cloak back over your shoulders… yes." The deep scoop of her decolletage revealed the upper swell of her breasts, but the neckline was rather demure actually, in comparison to some others in this day and age. "Now, lower your dress a little—"

"Anthony!"

"This is no time for offended modesty," he explained wearily as he moved to the seat across from her.

"You're to be a distraction."

"Och, well, in that case."

"That's quite low enough, my dear." He frowned at her. "Youmight not care if any number of women view my body in the nude, but I'm not quite so generous when it comes to other men and your charms."

"I was only trying to help," Roslynn retorted, annoyed with the reminder of the bargain she had insisted on.

"Commendable, but we want the chap to ogle you, not bust his breeches."

"Bust his breeches? Whatever are you talking about?"

He finally smiled. "I will be delighted to demonstrate at another time."

Anthony might have said more, but the highwayman made his appearance just then, yanking the door open and thrusting his head inside. Roslynn gave a little start. It was one thing to talk about being robbed even when you were about to be robbed, but quite another thing to meet the robber face-to-face.

The coach was high enough off the ground that only the man's upper torso was framed in the doorway, but it was a huge torso, great-brawny shoulders in a too-tight jacket, dark, scraggly hair on a large head wrapped in a dirty scarf. Fat fingers gripped an old, rusty pistol, also thrust into the coach and pointed directly at Anthony.

Roslynn could do nothing but stare at the pistol, her heart beginning a drumroll. This was not how she had imagined it… well, she hadn't really imagined anything. Not knowing any highwaymen personally, how was she to know how very dangerous they could be? But she had goaded Anthony into doing something, so it would be her fault if he got shot. And for what? Some stupid jewels that were replaceable?

She glanced at Anthony, wondering how she could tell him to forget it, when the highwayman spoke up.

"Evenin", m'lord," he said congenially enough, his voice muffled behind the scarf. "Good o' ye't' sit tight and await me, it was. 'Ad a bit o' trouble wi' me 'orse after lettin' yer driver know what's what. But I'll be relievin' ye o' yer—cor!"

It was at this point that the chap caught sight of Roslynn in the dim light. It took only a moment more for Anthony to grab hold of his wrist and jerk it forward, which brought the fellow's face slamming into Anthony's fist.

It happened so fast it was over with before Roslynn had time to be alarmed that it was the hand holding the pistol that Anthony had grabbed. The highwayman, unsuspecting lout, was out cold, facedown on the floor. And as calmly as you please, Anthony placed a foot on his back to keep him from sliding out the door while he pried the pistol loose.

"Be a good girl and stay put while I see if he rode alone or has chums lurking about."

Before Roslynn could say a word, Anthony was out the door, the highwayman slid out the other one, and she was left in the empty coach, the words dying on her lips. She had never been so frightened in her life, not even for herself. Anthony in danger was a revelation. She found she couldn't stand the suspense, waiting to hear more shots fired.

Fortunately, it was only a matter of moments before he was back, smiling now. "According to our very shaken driver—it seems this was his first robbery too—the chap was alone."

Roslynn's relief came out in an explosive "What the devil do you mean, scaring me to death like that?

You could've been killed!"

Both brows shot up in amazement at her vehemence. "My dear girl, what did you expect me to do when you demanded Idosomething?''

"I didna mean for you to get yourself killed!"

"Glad to hear it," was his dry reply. "But it's done now, so enough."

"Dinna be telling me—"

He yanked her across his lap and smothered her words with a very forceful kiss. A moment later it became soft nibbles, and finally he grinned at her.

"That's better. Now you have something else to think about, and you can be sure we'll continue this later.'' He set her gently back on the seat beside him and reached for the bottle of champagne. "But right now I could use another drink, and you can go back to sleep."

"As if I could," Roslynn retorted, but the steam had gone out of her anger.

"You'd best try, sweetheart, because I promise you, you won't have much opportunity to sleep later."

She said nothing to that but waited until he sat back with glass in hand and settled herself against him again. Her heart rate had returned to normal, although she could have done without the experience. This was her wedding night, for God's sake. Things like this just didn't happen on one's wedding night.

Peevish now that she had gotten so frightened for nothing, she said, "Next time pay me no mind and don't be so heroic. The jewels weren'tthatimportant."

"Perhaps, but it would have fallen to me as your husband to replace them, and I would rather not so dent my pocket.''

"So youdidmarry me for my money?"

"Why else?"

With such irony in his tone, she glanced at him to see his eyes fixed on the bodice of her gown, which she had yet to raise. She nearly laughed. Why else indeed! The man was a rake through and through, but she had known that, knew too that there was no hope of changing him.

She sighed, briefly wondering if she ought to tell him that if he had married her for her money, he would be pleasantly surprised. Her marriage contract dealt very generously with him. And even though Anthony was obviously well-to-do enough not to have to work for a living, he was still a fourth son and couldn't possibly be rich enough to scorn what she had brought him through the marriage.

She would have to tell him, but not now. The excitement of the attempted robbery had drained her.

Within moments, she was fast asleep again.

Chapter Twenty-two

Anthony shook Roslynn awake as they turned off the King's Road onto Grosvenor Place. They were nearing Piccadilly now, where his town house was located across from Green Park. He hoped that James would still be out for the evening and Jeremy would be in bed, because, as late as it was, the last thing he wanted to do was tender explanations. Besides, he had spent the whole of the ride home, less the short interruption by the highwayman, contemplating the delights of his bed. He didn't think he could wait much longer.

Roslynn couldn't have cared less at the moment. She had slept soundly this second time and couldn't seem to rouse herself sufficiently to appreciate that they had finally arrived. She just wanted to continue sleeping. Thoughts of her wedding night, of her new husband, of anything, were far removed. And yet someone continued to shake her.

Anthony was nonplussed when all Roslynn did was sigh an irritated moan and slap his hand away, refusing to open her eyes. Women didn't usually sleep in his presence, so he was unaccustomed to dealing with one who wouldn't wake up. He had suggested a nap to refresh her, not to put her out for the night, for God's sake.

He tried once more. "Come on, my girl, or have you forgotten what day this is?"

"Mmm?"

"Do wedding bells bring anything to mind? Or a husband thinking about you slipping into something sheer and sexy for his delectation?"

She yawned, but did manage to sit up, blinking her eyes several times before rubbing the sleep from them in a very childlike way. "I don't travel with anything likethat. "

He grinned to himself. At least her mind was finally working, even if it was a bit slow in realizing he was only teasing her.

"Not to worry, my dear. I sent for your things this morning."

That certainly woke her up. "You didn't! That was a fool thing to do when you didn't even know yet if I'd marry you or not. Geordie could have been watching and waiting for just that so he could follow and find out where I've gone."

Anthony certainly hoped so. That was just why he'd done it. And with any luck, the man he'd set to follow the "followees" would have an address for him tomorrow. But as to her concern, he chuckled.

"I know it's not every day that you become a bride, sweetheart, but it's a bit disconcerting, not to mention a blow to the ego, that you keep forgetting your changed status. You're married now. The sooner your cousin knows it, the sooner he'll trouble you no more."