Eleanor gaped after him. She was, admittedly, not an expert in male desire, or the ways in which it manifested, but she knew something about herself, and she most certainly recognized the look in his eye when he had spoken about dreaming of kissing her. And she could not ignore the eager press of his fingers against her waist.
Perhaps he did not want to like her—perhaps he did not like her at all—but no one could deny that hewantedher. The lie filled the silence left in his wake.
The only question was how she could convince him to admit such a thing to her, or to himself.
Sebastian rested his forehead against the wall. Bloody hell, but he had not been prepared for her to ask such a direct question. What happened to the timid mouse he had married? And where had she acquired that delicious gown from? He had never seen her look so… alluring, and the flush on her cheeks had only added to the impression.
You pose no challenge for me as my wife. You are mine; I can have you whenever I want. And thus, I no longer want you.
What folly. A lie for the sake of cruelty—but worse, he did not know if she believed it. He had left before he could see her reaction. He needed her to hate him, but he could not stop himself from thinking about what would happen if he kissed her again. Whether she would respond the way she had when she had thought him nothing more than a stranger. What noises would she make? Would she wrap her arms around his neck?
He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he needed to keep his distance from her, or he would find out preciselywhatshe would be like to kiss as his wife.
Such knowledge would be dangerous. Particularly when he sensed other things about her. How submissive she was; how very easily she would give in to every one of his desires—and he had many. He had not been lying when he had mentioned dreaming about her. He had fantasies galore, and all of them involved her. So many, it would take him half a lifetime to explore them all.
He shook his head to clear it and strode out to the stables. By the time he came back, hopefully she would have gone somewhere else and he could return to ignoring her existence in his life.
He ought to have known that would be far too much to hope for.
When he returned to the house, sweaty after a good, hard ride, he found his new wife in the dining room, balancing on a chair, holding a swathe of material up to the curtains.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” he exploded from the doorway.
She glanced up, wobbling and losing her balance on the chair. Without thinking, he dived forward, managing to catch her before she landed on the ground. Blinking, she stared up at him, delicate in his arms, her body pressed against his.
His body, inevitably, reacted instantly, and he put her down so abruptly she almost lost her balance all over again.
“You ought to watch your language,” she reproved, turning her attention back to the curtains.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Well, I am your wife now.” She held up the two swathes of material. One was a cool blue; the other a red and white floral design.
“You being my wife explains nothing.”
“I believe it is customary for the mistress of the house to redecorate where appropriate,” she said, still not regarding him.
“There is no need to redecorate this room. Or any room in the house. If I wished for them to be changed, I would have given the order myself.”
As though she had not heard him, she pursed her lips. “I think the red, don’t you?”
“Eleanor. Are you not listening to me?”
“Iamlistening,” she said absently, “but all you are doing is saying the same things. You may not think this room is in need of sprucing up, but I disagree, and I am the mistress of the house. You are in the habit of changing the servants frequently, so I cannot rely on a housekeeper to make any such changes. But no matter!” She waved the material so it fluttered in the air. “I prefer doing this myself. And it is hardly as though I amunaccustomed to putting the work in. In fact,” she added, still not paying him any attention, “I prefer having some occupation. Having nothing to do is infuriating.”
He took hold of her wrist, fingers wrapping around the delicate bone. She was so small; he could crush her so easily. Hurt her so easily. “And if I asked you to do nothing?”
Her large gray eyes met his. “Does the notion of new curtains offend you so very much?”
“I prefer to be the person to make the changes in my home.”
“Is it not my home too?”
“No.” He said the word as bluntly as possible. “You are a guest in my house.”
“Then you are remarkably rude to your guests.”
“You are especially forward.”
