Ellie's eyes narrowed as she jerked out of his grasp. Her new spouse certainly did not have any difficulties relating to his self-esteem. She rather doubted he had ever heard the word, "No," uttered from female lips. She narrowed her eyes and asked, "You have seduced many women, haven't you?"
"I hardly think that is the sort of question one asks one's husband."
"I think it is exactly the sort of question one should be asking one's husband." She planted her hands firmly on her hips. "Women are nothing but a game to you."
Charles stared at her for a moment. Her statement was nothing if not astute. "Not a game, precisely," he said, stalling for time.
"Then what?"
"Well, at the very least, you are not a game."
"Oh? And what am I?"
"My wife," he bit off, losing patience with this line of conversation.
"You haven't any idea how to treat a wife."
"I know exactly how to treat a wife," he snapped. "I am not the problem."
Offended, Ellie lurched backward. "What, precisely are you attempting to say?" "
"You, madam, do not know how to be a wife."
"I have only been a wife for one day." she all but growled. "What do you expect?"
All of a sudden Charles felt the complete cad. He had promised her time to accustom herself to mar-riaee and here he was snapping at her like a dragon He let out a soft sigh of regret. "I am sorry, Elbe. I don't know what came over me."
She looked startled by his apology, and then her face softened. "Do not trouble yourself over it, my lord. It has been a stressful few days for us all."
"And what?" he prompted when she failed to complete her sentence.
She cleared her throat. "Nothing. Merely that I suppose you could not have been expecting to find me this morning with my head in an oven."
"It was something of a shock," he said mildly.
Ellie fell silent. After a few moments, she opened her mouth, then shut it.
One corner of Charles's mouth turned up." Did you want to say something?"
She shook her head. "No."
"You did."
"It wasn't important."
"Oh come now, Ellie. You wanted to defend your kitchen skills, or oven skills, or whatever you want to call them, didn't you?"
Her chin jutted out ever so slightly. "I can assure you that I have adjusted oven racks a million times before."
"You've hardly been alive long enough to have performed the task a million times."
She let out an outraged gasp. "Am I not allowed to speak in hyperbole?"
"Only," he said, a bit too smoothly, "if you are talking about me."
Ellie's face slid into a smirk. "Oh, Charles," she exclaimed, "I feel as if we have known each other for a million years." Her tone grew more ironic. "I am that weary of your company."
He chuckled. "My thoughts were more along the lines of, 'Oh, Charles, you are the kindest—' "
"Ha!"
"'—most dashing man to ever walk the planet. If I lived a thousand years, I—' "
"I hope I do live a thousand years," Ellie retorted. "Then I should be a wizened old crone whose only purpose in life is to annoy you."
"You should make a fetching old crone." He cocked his head and pretended to study her face. "I can see just where your wrinkles will settle. Right here by your eyes, and—"
She batted away his hand, which was tracing the path of her future wrinkles. "You are no gentleman."
He shrugged. "I am when it suits me."
"I cannot imagine when that is. So far I have seen you drunk—"
"I had quite a good reason for that particular bout of alcohol," he said with a wave of his hand. "Besides, my little drunken stupor brought me you, did it not?"
"That is not the point!"
"Pray do not work yourself into a snit," he said in a weary voice.
"I am not in a snit." She drew back and crossed her arms.
"You do a fine imitation of one, then."
Her eyes narrowed and her lips curved into a confident smile. "My snits are far more lethal than this. You would be well advised not to encourage one."
He sighed. "I suppose I will have to kiss you."
"Whaaaaat?"
Charles grabbed her arm and pulled her quickly up against him until the length of her body molded against his. "It seems the only way to shut you up."' he drawled.
"You—" But she couldn't finish her sentence, for his lips were on hers, and they were doing the most devilish things... They tickled the corner of her mouth, then caressed the line of her jaw, and Ellie felt as if she were melting. Yes, she thought wildly, that could be the only explanation, for her legs felt like butter, and she swayed into him, and she must be on fire, because she felt so very very hot, and the word, "Fire," echoed in her brain and—
Charles let go of her so suddenly that she tumbled into a chair. "Did you hear that?" he asked sharply.
Ellie was far too dazed to respond.
"Fire!" came the shouts.
"Good God!" Charles burst out, heading for the door.
"It's your Aunt Cordelia," Ellie managed to say. "Didn't you say she always shouts, 'Fire'?"
But Charles was already sprinting down the hall. Ellie stood and shrugged, not really believing there was any danger—not after her introduction to Cordelia the day before. Still, this was her new home, and if Charles thought there was something to worry about, she ought to investigate. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her skirts and ran down the hall after him.