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“Is something the matter?”

“Does it look as if there is?”

He frowned with concern. “I am not sure. If there is, you know you can tell me. I like to think that by now, you trust me enough to tell me.”

She almost told him the truth. She almost said that she wanted more than the theatrics, more than the performance.

Only… no. Fear held her back. And it was this fear that led her to travel down a path that was wholly predictable and, most importantly, safe.

“I simply forgot how much you love the sound of your own voice, is all,” she said simply. “I had thought that once my mother left, you would return to being that sullen, moody gentleman I married, and that I might get some peace and quiet, but alas…” She shrugged. “It is not to be.”

That was all it took.

Benedict’s eyes flashed with annoyance, and he clenched his jaw. “Excuse me?”

“I think you heard me.” She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to come for her. “Or should I say it again? I had forgotten how slow you could be.”

His fists clenched on the table. “I would watch what I say if I were you.”

“Is that right? And what are you going to do about it?”

Excitement next. He knew why she was saying such things, and he played into it perfectly. Slowly, he rose to his feet. Then he flattened his palms against the table as he leaned over her, baring his teeth and growling in a way that made the hair at the back of her neck stand on end.

Oh yes, it excited her too. There was no doubt about that. She had not been with Benedict for three nights and days now, and the sight of him bearing down on her was enough to make her blood simmer. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Only… she also wanted more.

“Do I need to remind you who it is that you are married to?” he growled, his eyes flashing with lust.

“If you think you can,” she shot back, meeting his eyes so that he could see how much she wanted it.

He grinned and then rounded the table. She jumped to her feet and jutted her chin as he swept into her. His hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to his hulking body, and soon they were engaged in a passionate, ravenous kiss that was only the beginning of their night.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Benedict stood in the doorway as he watched his wife admire herself in the mirror. She did not know that he was there, which was why she felt free to act as she wished.

Her dress was a dark canary yellow, trimmed with golden ribbon and lace. The underskirt was a lighter yellow, while her jewelry was made of emeralds and rubies. It was a tightly fitted gown, strapless and sleeveless with a neckline that sat well below her collarbone. This showed off most of her back and shoulders, while her arms were bare, save for the white gloves that came up to her elbows.

Has there ever been a more beautiful woman than the one standing before me? Somehow, I very much doubt it.

“I am tempted to stand here all night and stare at you,” Benedict said as he continued to linger in the doorway. “But then we would be late, and I know how much you hate tardiness.”

Selina jumped in shock, spun about, and rolled her eyes at him. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

“Long enough for what?”

He smiled as he sauntered into the room. She stood facing him, but when he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and turned her back to look into the mirror. Then he gazed at her reflection, his arms still around her waist, her body pressed tightly against his own.

“Long enough to realize that I have the most beautiful wife in all of London.”

“Now you go too far.” She giggled.

“Not far enough.”

“Careful, Benedict…” She tilted her head to the side, and he began to kiss down her neck. “Save some of the romancing for when we are in public. I would hate for you to waste it all in private.”

Benedict chuckled at the comment, even though it unnerved him slightly.