“No, Greg—”
His always adorable wife caught too late the teasing light he allowed to shine through.
Her face crumpled.
“No!” He edged up onto an elbow. A sharp hiss exploded from between his teeth.
Daria rushed to his side, launching her slender frame onto the bed with a force that sent the mattress bouncing and his side burning.
She helped him back down. “It was Diggory,” she said. “Lord Kilburn received a note. I was meant to live—he was sending a message. Anyone who has dealings with you, your patrons, they risk his wrath.” Like a proper nursemaid, Daria fluffed one of his pillows.
Argyll caught her hand. “Look at me.”
His wife did so without hesitation.
“I was negligent,”
She made a sound of protest.
“It is a mistake I won’t make again. Me, Kilburn, DuMond, we are prepared for this war.” He dragged her wrist to his mouth. Ignoring a searing pain that burned from the site of his wound, Argyll pressed a kiss to where her pulse beat. “My club issecondary. You are first.” From over the top of her hand, Argyll held her luminous eyes. “You areeverything.”
A whispery sigh spilled from her lips.
He sank back into the pillows. Before his astute wife could remark on his pain, he hooded his lashes. “Do I daresay, this former rake, finally managed to woo his enchanting wife?”
“You have,” she said, her body arced over him, and his stirred in response.
As Daria lowered her mouth to Argyll’s, his unceasing hunger for this woman—and this woman only—kept pain an afterthought.
Daria stopped with her lips a hair away; the warm sough of her breath brushed his frown. “Yourenchanting wifealso knows when you’re using your rake’s charm to distract me.”
His gaze charted a path over her beloved face. “How have I been so fortunate, that you should choose me?” he asked quietly to himself.
Daria’s features went even softer. “This question from a man who built a fortune on the whole premise of chance.” She picked up a pillow and shook it several times.
“You need to rest,” his wife said, all business as she slapped the feather article. “The doctor insists you stay as still as possible. Your wound was not deep. It pierced your left side. Any h-higher and—” She sank her teeth into her lip. “Yes, well, I’m going to care for you.”
When she returned the pillow under his head, he followed the gentle up and down sway of her breasts.
“I would very much enjoy a game of nurse and patient, love,” he purred.
“We needn’t make a game of it, Gregory.” He eyed her as she worked, devotedly attending him. “We are very much serving in those respective roles.”
“Someday, love,” he said silkily. “I’m going to show you what kind of fun I’m talking about.”
She narrowed her eyes “Fun?”
Recognizing his mistake, Argyll sighed. “You are cross, again.”
“I’m no longer cross.”
He perked up. “That is—”
“I am livid, Gregory.”
“Because I lived?”
“Stop!” Daria cried, and the sight of her ravaged face hurt more viciously than the way his skull split under her yell.
