"Pick of the litter?" she gasped. "What a horrendous thing to say. Have you no respect for women?"
"When was the last time you went to London and took a whirl on the social scene?"
"You know I've never—"
"Exactly my point. Trust me, if you had a chance to meet most of the debutantes, you would know of what I speak. I found only one last year with more than half a brain in her head, and she was already in love with someone else."
"Clearly a testament to the fact that she possessed more than half a brain."
Charles allowed her her little dig. "Ellie," he said in a soft, encouraging tone, "what reason could there possibly be for us not to make ours a true marriage?"
Ellie opened her mouth, but she couldn't figure out what to say. Everything she could think of sounded rather weak and lame. How was she to explain to him that she didn't think she was ready to be intimate because it was a feeling she had? She had no rational arguments, no sound and well thought out reasons, just a feeling.
And even if she could somehow convey this feeling, she suspected that she wouldn't be terribly convincing. Not when his constant sensual onslaught was wearing her down, making her want him.
"Ellie," he said. "Someday you're going to have to face the fact that you want me."
She looked up in surprise. Had he somehow read her mind?
"Shall I prove my point?" he murmured. Charles rose to his feet and advanced upon her. "What do you feel when I do"—he reached out and brushed his fingertips lightly across her cheek—"this?"
"Nothing," she whispered, suddenly quite rooted to the spot.
"Really?" His smile was slow and lazy. "I feel a great deal."
"Charles ..."
"Shhhh. What do you feel when I do"—he leaned forward and captured her earlobe between his teeth— "this?"
Ellie swallowed, trying to ignore the way his hot breath caressed her skin.
He let one of his arms snake behind her, pulling her closer to the raw heat of his body. "What about"—he cupped her backside and squeezed— "this?"
"Charles," she gasped.
"Charles, yes," he murmured, "or Charles, no?"
She didn't say anything, couldn't have made a sound if her life depended upon it.
He chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."
His lips claimed hers in a hungry movement, and Ellie found herself clinging to him for support. She hated the way he could do this to her, hated herself for loving these feelings so. He was the worst sort of womanizer and had all but admitted that he planned to carry on affairs throughout their marriage, but he only had to touch her and she melted faster than butter.
It was, she supposed, why he had been so successful at womanizing. He had told her that he wanted to be faithful, but how could she believe him? Women must fall into his bed like dominoes—she herself was a perfect example. How could he resist them all?
"You taste like honey," he said hoarsely, nipping at the corner of her mouth. "You taste like nothing else, like no other."
Ellie felt herself tumbling to the bed, then felt his hard body upon hers. He was more than aroused; he was wild for her, and her feminine heart soared with the knowledge and power of it. Tentatively, she reached out and laid her hand against the strong cords of his neck. His muscles leaped under her fingers and she moved away.
"No," he gasped, pulling her hand back to him. "More."
She touched him again, marveling at the heat of his skin. "Charles," she whispered, "I shouldn't be ..."
"You should," he said fervently. "You definitely should."
"But—"
He silenced her with another kiss, and Ellie let him. If she couldn't speak, she couldn't protest, and dimly she realized that she didn't want to protest. She arched her back, instinctively moving toward his warmth, and gasped when she felt her breasts flatten against him.
He spoke her name, murmuring it over and over. She was losing herself, losing her ability to think. There was nothing but this man, and the things he was making her feel, and ...
Ellie's ears pricked up.
... and a sound at the door.
"Charles," she whispered. "I think—"
"Don't think."
The knocking grew louder.
"Someone is at the door."
"No one would be that cruel," he murmured, his words disappearing into her neck. "Or that stupid."
"Ellie!" they both heard, and it was immediately apparent that the voice belonged to Judith.
"Damn," Charles swore, rolling off of Ellie. For no one else would he have been able to hold his desire in check. But little Judith's voice was enough to convince him that he couldn't put his own needs first just then. He sat up and buttoned his shirt. When he looked over at Ellie, he saw that she was hurrying to the door, righting her appearance as she moved. He had to smile at her attempts to smooth her hair. He'd certainly done a rather nice job mussing it up.
Ellie pulled open the door to reveal Judith, whose lower lip was trembling. She immediately crouched down. "Judith, whatever is the matter?" she asked. "Why are you so sad?"
"I'm not sad. I'm mad!"
Both Ellie and Charles had to smile at that.
"Won't you come in?" Ellie said, keeping her voice appropriately grave.
Judith nodded like a queen and entered. "Oh, good evening, Charles."
"Good evening to you, too, Judith. It's fine to see you. I should have thought you'd be getting ready for bed."