"No," she bit out, her words dripping acid, "we merely married each other."
"I allow that our nuptials were somewhat hasty, but we had good reason to act quickly."
"You had good reason," she retorted.
"Don't try to act as if I have taken advantage of you," he replied, his voice growing impatient. "You needed this marriage every bit as much as I did."
"I didn't get as much out of it, though."
"You have no idea what you're getting out of it! You are a countess now. You have more wealth than you have ever dreamed of." He stared at her. Hard. "Don't insult me by playing the victim."
"I have a title. And I have wealth. And I also have a husband to whom I must answer. A husband who does not seem to see anything wrong with treating me like chattel."
"Eleanor, you're growing unreasonable. I don't want to argue with you."
"Have you noticed that you only call me Eleanor when you are speaking to me like a child?"
Charles counted to three and then said, "Ton marriages are based on the premise that both parties are mature enough to respect each other's choices."
She stared at him, openmouthed. "Do you have any idea what you just said?"
"Ellie..."
"I think what you just said is that I may also be unfaithful if I so choose."
"Don't be silly."
"After the heir and the spare, of course, as you so eloquently spelled out." She sat down on an ottoman, clearly lost in thought. "Freedom to live my life as I choose, with whom I choose. It's intriguing."
As Charles stood there, watching her contemplate adultery, his previous views on marriage suddenly sounded as appealing as mud. "You can't do anything about it now," he said. "It's considered very bad form to have an affair before you produce an heir."
She started to laugh. "Item number four suddenly takes on new meaning."
He looked at her with a blank expression.
"You wanted someone who could move about your social milieu with ease. Clearly I am going to have to master the intricacies of what is bad form and what is not. Let's see ..." She began to tap her forefinger against her jawbone, and Charles had the urge to yank her hand away, just to wipe that sarcastic expression from her face. "It is bad form to carry on an affair too soon in the marriage," she continued, "but is it bad form to have more than one lover at once? I shall have to investigate that."
Charles felt his face growing quite hot, and a muscle was pounding furiously in his temple.
"It is probably bad form to have an affair with one of your friends, but is it bad form to have one with a distant cousin?"
He was starring to see everything through a strange red haze.
"I am almost certain it would be bad form to entertain a lover here in our home," she continued, "but I'm not sure where—"
A strangled, hoarse, half-shout-half-grunt erupted from his throat and he launched himself at her. "Stop!" he yelled. "Just stop."
"Charles!" She squirmed frantically beneath him, which only served to make him crazier.
"Not another word," he rasped, his eyes burning hot holes into her skin. "If you utter one more word, so help me God, I will not be responsible for what I do."
"But I—"
At the sound of her voice, his fingers bit into her shoulders. His muscles shook, and his eyes grew wild, as if he no longer knew or cared what he did next.
Ellie stared up at him, suddenly quite wary. "Charles," she whispered, "maybe you shouldn't..."
"Maybe I should."
She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could make a sound he devoured her with a fiery kiss. It felt as if his mouth were everywhere—on her cheeks, on her neck, on her lips. His hands roved up and down her body, pausing to squeeze the curve of her hips and the fullness of her breasts.
Ellie could feel the passion rising within him, and she felt it within herself as well. He ground his hips into hers. She could feel his arousal as he pressed her deeper into the ottoman, and it took several seconds for her to realize that she was meeting his thrusts with her own.
He was seducing her in anger, and she was responding. The mere thought of it was enough to douse her passion cold, and she shoved her hands against his shoulders, squirming out from under him. She made it across the room before he was on his feet.
"How dare you," she breathed. "How dare you."
Charles lifted one shoulder in an insolent shrug. "It was either kiss you or kill you. I thought I made the right choice." He strode to the connecting door and put his hand on the knob. "Don't prove me wrong."
Chapter 10
Charles awoke the next morning with a thundering headache. His new wife seemed to have the ability to make him feel hideously hungover without his having imbibed a drop.
There was no doubt about it. Marriage was not good for one's health.
After washing and dressing, he decided that he ought to seek Ellie out and see how she was faring. He hadn't the least idea what he should say to her, but it did seem as if he ought to say something.
What he wanted to say was, "Your apology is accepted," but that required that she actually apologize for her scandalous talk the night before, and he doubted she was going to do that.
He rapped on the connecting door and waited for an answer. When none came, he opened the door a crack and called out her name. There was still no response, so he pushed the door open a little wider and poked his head in.
"Ellie?" He glanced at her bed and was surprised to see it neatly made. The servants hadn't come to clean yet that morning. He could be certain of this because he had instructed them to leave fresh flowers on his wife's vanity table every morning, and yesterday's violets were still in evidence.