Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
She looked at the great many figures upon the tabletop and shrugged. “I don’t know. I find raptors interesting. They’re so fierce and majestic.”
He turned it over in his hand, tracing the bird’s tiny, pointed beak. “I started this hawk in Wales, Elizabeth. The evening after we walked in the woods, and you saw the fires no one else saw. The night you came to me in such distress.”
She remembered that night, and what he’d done to her bottom with the switch. Not that she hadn’t wanted it, as much as it hurt her. “Oh. I didn’t notice it then.”
“I had put it away by the time you arrived.”
She glanced up at him, a sideways look. “What do you wish to say? That I’m using my ‘powers’ again? I did not single out this hawk for any esoteric reason.” She took it back from him and placed it among the others. “And I wasn’t reading your mind last night. Honestly, I can’t do that. I was reading your expression. You look that way when you think about her. You always have.”
“Because I’m in love with her?”
“I… I don’t know.”
His gaze darkened. “Perhaps I was thinking about loving you.” He picked up the purple-clad princess she’d noted earlier, the one beside the stately knight. “This could be Felicity,” he said, showing it to her. “Or it could be you. You both have black hair.”
“Are we that interchangeable?” she murmured.
His laugh did not sound amused.
“I will never be as Felicity was to you,” she told him. “I understand that.”
“You understand nothing,” he said in a clipped voice, “for someone reputed to be so perceptive. Anyway, it’s neither of you. It’s just a woman I carved. The tragic Guinevere of Arthur’s tale, or your mother Guinevere. Why don’t you choose, for I don’t care.”
“You pretend you don’t care.”
“I’m too unrefined to be skilled at pretending. You must know that.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are we having a fight, my lord?”
“Again, you’re the perceptive one. What do you think?”
“I think you’re being very prickly, perhaps because I’ve invaded your personal hideaway without invitation. I’m happy to leave.” She turned on her heel and made for the door. She should not have intruded to begin with.
But before she could reach the door, he caught her and turned her toward him. The kiss he imparted felt harsh, an assault rather than affection. She pushed at him, but he held her close until she ceased to resist. His embrace gentled then, a slight bit. It still did not feel comfortable. When he released her, she felt out of breath.
“What do you perceive of that?” he asked.
“Stop speaking of my perceptions.” She stamped her foot, though it made little noise in her soft-soled slipper. “I’ve no doubt it irritates me as much as you are irritated by talk of Felicity.”
“If you know it irritates me, why do you persist in bringing her up?”
“Because… Because I…” She thought, and realized there was no good reason for it, except for her insecurities. “I’ll try to stop doing it.”
“If you don’t, I shall spank you for it. An unpleasant spanking, not the fun sort.” She stared at his lips as he gestured between them. “There are two of us in this marriage, you and me. That’s it. Felicity is not a part of it. Not in any way. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Perfectly. If that’s what you say.”
Again, she made to leave. Again, he stopped her.
“I’ll show you tonight that it’s just between us, Elizabeth. Whatever it takes, I’ll show you.”
“Very well, my lord.” She could not hold his hot gaze for very long. This was an August she didn’t know well, as much as she’d intentionally piqued his temper. “For now, I shall have a walk outdoors, if you’ll grant me leave.”
He released her, giving tacit assent.
“Oh, but I must inconvenience your servants to accompany me. What a bother.” She wondered how far she could push him. His expression showed she was close to the line.
“My servants are at your command,” he replied curtly, “and I’ve explained my preference in the matter. I’m certain you will comply. You are an intelligent woman, darling.”
She left, wondering if that was true.
Intelligent? Perhaps, but not always wise.
*
August knew he should not visit her that night. His feelings toward her—his sexual feelings—felt jagged and hot as lightning, particularly after their tussle that afternoon. And making love to her the night before had whetted an appetite he’d pretended was dull.
But it was not dull. His attraction to her was avid, emphatic, and perpetual. His fantasies grew more lurid each time she smiled at him or tossed her dark hair. The real problem was, she would deny him nothing he wished for, and he knew it.
The reserve must rest in him, and it was not there.
He should not go to her this night.