“Go on.”
“Then she said that after the two of you made love, you never stayed the night. Also a habit of yours that I am familiar with.”
Hawk cocked his head. “Do you want me to?”
“Want you to what?”
“Stay the night.”
Caught off guard, she said stiffly, “That is hardly the point.”
“On the contrary. You are angry because you believe I treated you and my ex-mistress in the same fashion. The logical conclusion would be that you wish to be treated differently. Ergo, you want me to sleep with you.”
Devil take the man and his superior reasoning.
She took refuge in indignation. “I am your wife. I deserve respect.”
“Some ladies prefer privacy after coupling. My first wife was one of them. I did not stay the night with her out of respect for her wishes.”
The flatness of his tone gave Fi pause. “Truly?”
He gave a curt nod. “I wanted to show you the same respect.”
She bit her lip. “And that is also why you never stayed with Lady Ayles?”
“No. I never stayed with Lady Ayles because I had no desire to wake up next to her,” Hawk said bluntly. “I had no wish to extend my time with her beyond our specific arrangement which, by the by, was about slaking a need and not making love.”
Although Fi was cheered by the statement, she recalled what Hawk’s mistress had said about his appetite. “But she said that…that you couldn’t get enough of her.” She had to unclench her jaw to get the words out. “That she ended things because of it.”
“As a gentleman does not call a lady a liar, I can only say that Lady Ayles is a stranger to the truth,” Hawk said coolly.
Relief rolled through Fi. “I just cannot bear the thought of you and that…that woman.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Is that your best attempt at name-calling?”
“I don’t wish to stoop to her level,” she said primly.
“How magnanimous of you. But you could never, you know.”
“Never what?”
“Be at her level. Or rather, she could never be at yours.” Hawk cupped her cheek, his gaze as warm as his touch. “You are special to me, Fiona. Not only because you are my wife. I have never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
“Truly?” she whispered.
“Truly. And I cannot tell you how good it feels to be on the receiving end of your sweet, generous passion.”
His eyes were so intense that a part of her wanted to look away; the other part wanted to drown in those silver-grey depths.
“But I like being with you in more than just the Biblical sense, Fiona. I like talking and having supper and doing everyday things with you. I like how committed you are to your charity and your friends. I like that you want to know about my interests and that you ask intelligent questions. I like what you’ve done with the house and even how readily you spend my money.”
Her eyes threatened to overflow again. Her heart, too. No one had seen her this way before. No one had made her feel this wanted, this special, this…thisvaluedfor who she was.
Overwhelmed, she tried to pull herself together. To lighten the mood.
“It is my money too.” She adopted a cheeky tone. “I didn’t come to you a pauper.”
“No, you didn’t.” There was a tender look in his eyes, as if he knew what she was up to. “Just so you know, however, I have no need of your dowry. That money will go to the children I hope we will one day be blessed with. Sons and daughters with their mama’s incomparable spirit.”
