Sin was tired of waiting.
He wanted his wife back.
He wanted the woman he loved. It had taken her leaving him to force the realization that he was not justfallingin love with Callie. He had fallen a long bloody time ago. Perhaps even the moment she had smashed that worthless piece of pottery over his head back at Helston Hall. When she had demonstrated all her stubborn fire and fearlessness. He could not choose the exact second the balance had shifted. Nor how it had happened. All he did know was that he loved her. And like the sun rising each morning, that love was constant and true.
“I am not leaving until I see her,” he countered evenly.
Westmorland raised a brow. “Then I suggest you enjoy bedding down on the carpets like the mongrel you are.”
His brother-in-law did not like him. Whilst Sin was pleased Callie’s brother was so loyal and protective, he would have preferred a bit less unadulterated hatred being directed toward him. He could admit it was not entirely undeserved.
“All I want is to see her, speak with her, and to give her some things that belong to her,” he said simply, unwavering.
“I will see him, Benny.”
Callie’s voice cut through the thick mutual enmity inhabiting the salon. Sin turned to find her standing on the threshold. A jolt of awareness went through him when their stares met and held. He wanted to run to her, to take her in his arms, to beg her never to leave him alone for another night again.
But he remained where he was, tempering himself. The manuscript in his hands rendered such an action impossible anyway.
Instead, he bowed. “Callie.”
My love. My beautiful, stubborn, delicious woman.
“You do not have to see him,” Westmorland addressed his sister. “If you are not comfortable with this, Callie, I will send him on his way.”
“No.” She shook her head, her gaze still lingering upon Sin. “Thank you, Benny, but I want to speak with my husband. Alone.”
“I am not sure that is wise,” the duke countered, his voice stern.
“What do you think I am going to do to her, Westmorland?” he demanded, nettled.
“Please, Benny,” Callie said, her voice gentling. “I promise you, I will be fine.”
Westmorland sent Sin a vicious glare. “If you hurt her in any fashion, I will break off both your arms and beat you with them. And then I will cut off your ballocks and stuff them down your throat.”
“Gruesome bastard, aren’t you?” Sin muttered.
His brother-in-law merely raised a brow. “Try me, Sinclair.”
“Benny,” Callie said pointedly.
Thankfully, the duke at long last took his leave, but not before sending one more threatening glance in Sin’s direction. When he was gone, Sin and Callie stood alone, facing each other.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked on a rush. “Any dizziness? You have not swooned again, have you? Perhaps we ought to sit. Are you too warm? Too cool? Have you eaten enough?”
As the last question fled him, he understood how foolish he sounded. But it could not be helped.
“I am as well as can be expected,” she answered, her voice taut.Controlled.Distinctly unlike his fiery countess. “And I do not need to sit. I am perfectly capable of standing. I am not so fragile.”
He nodded, drinking in the sight of her. She was bloody ravishing. Her dark eyes were doing the same to him, he realized. But her expression remained guarded. They were eying each other like two prize-fighters attempting to determine which of them would land the first blow.
“You look well,” he observed, deciding it would be him. “Indeed, you look better than well. You are so damned beautiful, it hurts to look at you.”
Her cheeks went pink. She caught her berry-red lower lip in her teeth. “Thank you. I could say the same of you.”
He did not believe that for a moment. He looked like a man who had scarcely slept the night before. Who had paced the freshly replaced Axminster in his chamber, searching his mind for ways he could make amends with the woman he loved.
He itched to touch her, but there was still the matter of the manuscript in his hands. He thrust it toward her. “This is for you.”
