"Chérie, stop," he demanded in a low voice. His hands circled her hips, calming her fidgeting hands at the edge of the bodice of her powder blue taffeta day dress. He thought his wife was dressed to perfection for a charity luncheon.

"Henri, they'll know," she whispered. "They'll talk."

"I don't care. Let them," Henri returned and covered the budding swell of her abdomen with his palm. He didn't believe her pregnancy was as noticeable as she imagined. "Cerise LeBlanc is sleeping with Clementine's fiancé. Delphine Landry was with child when she married Claude. Everybody knows, but no one cares. Now, close your eyes."

Her eyes widened at the information he'd shared. "Cerise is sl—"

He curtly nodded. "Kathleen, close your eyes."

"We'll be late."

Henri grumbled as she fretted with the bodice again. "Kathleen, stop. We won't be late. It won't take but a moment."

"What are we doing?" she asked as she stood at the desk in his office, gazing at the globe.

"Close your eyes."

"Henri," she protested.

"S'il vous plaît, mon amour," he whispered against her neck, gently squeezing her hips.

She shivered. His polite request in French made her weak in the knees.

"Spin, Chérie. Choose where we'll go on our honeymoon."

Her fingertips touched the sphere. She spun, waiting a few moments before settling her finger on a spot.

Henri clucked his tongue and patted her belly as she opened her eyes. "Well, well."

She gasped, spying her index finger on France.

"Our petit bébé puts Paris out of the running. No matter," he stated and released his wife, taking her hand and leading her to a map of the United States hanging on the wall. "Close your eyes again, Chérie."

Kitty stepped closer to the map and halfheartedly closed her eyes. She chewed her lip as her fingers roamed over the map, settling on New York.

Her mournful whimpering woke him. "Kathleen," he murmured, propping himself up on his elbow as she fretfully slumbered. Henri gingerly shook her shoulder. "Kathleen, mon amour, come back to me," he pleaded, hating the dreams that plagued her night after night.

A shot from a Colt Dragoon revolver pierced the humdrum of midday.

She bolted through the batwing doors, halting in her steps. She was frozen at the sight of him lying in the dust.

Doc hurriedly scrambled down the stairs, turning him over to assess the damage. The physician urgently yelled for her.

She ran as quickly as her pregnant body would allow, pushing through the horde of concerned townsfolk. Her knees hit the dirt.

Matt weakly pulled her to him. "Kitty," he uttered.

"I'm here, Cowboy. I'm here," she said, taking his hand. Her eyes filled with tears as blood poured from his chest. "Don't die on me, Matt. Don't."

"Honey, I'm sorry. Take care of our baby."

His hold slackened as his eyes shut. His breathing stopped.

She screamed, throwing her body onto his chest. "No! Doc! Do something! Doc!" she cried.

"Nothing I can do," Doc softly spoke, torture on his face.

Her eyes flew open. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she struggled to catch her breath. She heard his gentle susurrations while she adjusted to her surroundings in the darkened room. She wasn't on Front Street. Matt's blood wasn't all over her. She was in the luxurious stateroom of a private rail car. She felt his arms around her.

"Mon amour, you're safe. You're with me," he gently whispered, pulling her snugly against him, holding her while reclining against the ornate headboard. "Another cauchemar?" he asked, stroking her loose waves of auburn, feeling her nod against his chest. Henri resumed his comforting whispers as her body quivered against him. He wouldn't ask about the night terrors that harassed her. He knew if she'd wanted to tell him that she would.

"Henri, don't ever leave me," she murmured.

"Chérie, I'm here for you always," he replied, pressing his lips to her temple.

She nestled into the comfort of him. "You are," she spoke softly, closing her eyes. He was with her, living and breathing. She would never have to worry about a gunslinger striking him down in a cattle town.

Music and magic on spectacular rooftop gardens. Walks along the Brooklyn Bridge Promenade. Shopping to her heart's content at Lord and Taylor. Evenings of extravagant dinners and Broadway theatre. Horse carriage rides in Central Park. Late night soul baring conversations. No expense had been spared.

She wasn't sure when it happened, but she had fallen for the second time. Two men so very different from each other. One a lawman, the other a tycoon.

She had always believed Matt Dillon would be home in her heart. Admitting that he wasn't was difficult.

He sat in an easy chair, hoping not to wrinkle his tuxedo, dozing off as he waited. Her breathy exclamation of his name roused him. He swallowed hard at the sight of her. She was stunning and alluring in ruffled tulle and silk organza. The man whose manners rivaled his wealth uttered an unsophisticated word under his breath.

"Well?" she inquired as she twirled in her ballroom gown.

Henri slowly rose from the lounger and walked to her, standing in front of her. "Kathleen," he murmured. He yearned to touch her. His mind reeled at how much he'd have to restrain himself through the course of the evening.

She felt desire sweeping through her from the way he looked at her. His eyes scorched her décolletage. "Henri, touch me," she whispered, surprising herself. She hadn't been able to go through with making love to him on their wedding night. He understood she felt like she'd betray the marshal. He'd been unbelievably patient with her.

"Chérie, if your cœur won't be in —"

Kitty took a small step forward, pushing inside his coat to caress his side. "I want to make love to my husband," she declared, gazing up at him through her darkened lashes. "Make love to me, mon beau."

Her voice was a sultry whisper in his ear. His heart pounded harder in his chest from her term of affection. Her lips were against his. Her hands roamed his strong torso, smoothing her hands over his hard muscles.

He pulled her tightly against his body, kissing her with an intense fever.

She returned his greedy kisses, caressing, biting, and kissing to soothe the sting. She held onto him while he fumbled with the laces at her back.

His kisses traveled down.

Kitty leaned her head back in pleasure as he reached her heaving bosom. Her eyelids closed in a flutter of long lashes. She raked her fingers through his dark wavy hair.

His lips never left her flushed skin as he yanked and pulled the laces until he was successful. He ripped the bodice from her and set about loosening the corset. "Chérie," he growled as she tore open his shirt, buttons hitting the floor.

She moaned his name as he pressed himself desperately into her body. The feel of his manhood against her made her ache between her thighs. "Bedroom," she rasped.

Henri lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom, slamming the door shut with his foot. He delicately set her down and hurriedly worked on undressing himself. He stared at her, watching her slowly unlatch the first hook of her corset. He groaned at the unbearable pain in his trousers and stepped to her, noticing the shy, anxious expression on her beautiful face. "Mon amour," he murmured. "What's the matter?"

"Henri, I don't look the same as I did the last time we," she quieted as his finger rested upon her lips.

"Tu es belle," he told her, touching her cheek. His eyes drifted to her plentiful cleavage. Henri lowered his hand to the front of the corset, curving his fingers around hers, unhooking the closures with her. He was deliberate with each aspect of undressing her. His eyes darkened with lust and love while hers were half shut. He followed each lavish curve of her nude body. He wanted her breasts under his hands, and he needed to hear her call out his name. He removed his slacks, settling himself on top of the sheets. "Venez à moi, Kathleen."

She shuddered at his command. Kitty had never needed a man like she needed Henri Broussard – to touch her, to kiss her, to ravage her, to be inside her. She'd gone too long without a man's touch. She climbed onto him, sitting astride his hips with wide eyes, cursing her fuzzy memory concerning his impressive size. Kitty squeaked in surprise as Henri drew her down towards him, gripping her shoulders and rolling them over. She grinned at him, tipping her lips to his. "Impatient?" she asked against his mouth, running her fingers through his disheveled hair.

He broke the kiss, pulling back with a smile spreading over his mouth. "I'm a patient man, Kathleen," he whispered, kissing down her throat and across her collarbone. He let his lips skim over the swell of one breast, dragging his tongue over the peak, feeling her arch into his grazes. Her moans washed over him as her fingernails scraped his scalp. Henri dragged his lips down, agonizingly slow until she made a breathy, exasperated noise and spread her legs. He kissed her inner thigh, letting his teeth scrape the tender flesh. Her leg came to rest over his shoulder. He explored her, spreading her open with his tongue, laving and teasing, drowning in the taste of her.

"Don't…stop…don't," Kitty gasped as he flattened his tongue against her. She fisted his hair, mindlessly tugging and pulling, as desperate noises escaped her. She slightly lifted her hips to meet the flicks and swirls of his tongue.

Henri felt the tautness of her muscles, sucking with the pulse of her orgasm until her legs shook. He listened to her breathless pants, dragging his tongue across her one last time while she moaned. He kissed the juncture of her thigh, trailing his kisses back up her body. He sat back, appreciating his wife as she tumbled down from the height of pleasure, her heated skin shining in the soft light, nipples peaked, and still writhing.

She sat up, crooking her finger at him, pulling him into a deep kiss as soon as he came within reach. Kitty pushed him onto the mattress, settling herself onto his thighs, stroking him. Her touch hardened him more than she'd thought possible. She heard his grunts of pleasure, groaning at the clutch of his hands suddenly on her hips, guiding and steadying her as she sank onto him. Kitty began to rock against him, raising herself up and down slowly until he took control, rolling them once more.

He pulled out of her almost completely, driving into her, burying himself into the depths of her. His pace quickened as she bucked against him, meeting his every thrust. Henri kissed and sucked at her neck, subtly changing the angle of his powerful strokes. He closed his eyes as she grasped his shoulders, digging her heels into him. He heard himself cry out with her, bowing his head into her shoulder.

After several moments, Henri reluctantly withdrew from her, lying face to face with her. He held his wife, kissing her cheek tenderly, listening to her breathing soften and slow. His brow furrowed as she unexpectedly flopped onto her back, her breathing changing to sniffles. "Did I hurt you?" His deep voice lilted with fear as he propped himself on an elbow, resting his hand on the swell of her middle. "Did I hurt the baby?"

Kitty covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. "No," she sniveled.

"Chérie, why are you crying?"

"I don't know. Dammit," she mumbled into her hands. Kitty did know, but she felt silly for being overwhelmed by her emotions. She'd slept with a man other than Matt Dillon for the first time in fifteen years. She didn't feel how she'd expected herself to feel. She thought she'd feel remorse, but there was none. She didn't feel guilty at all. In fact, she'd enjoyed every minute. She sunk her teeth into her lip, staring at her husband as he tugged her hands away from her face.

Henri dabbed her cheeks with the back of his hand and lovingly kissed her forehead. "Let me hold you, mon amour," he implored.

As she stared into his gentle, kind brown eyes, Kitty realized she needed to admit what she'd been denying for weeks. She needed to say what she felt for him. "Je t'aime, mon beau," she whispered softly to him, curling into his embrace.