“I don't know why I'm dreading this,” he muttered. “Well, in fact I do know. It could have something to do with the fire in my kitchen. Or the odd smells emanating from my orangery. Or perhaps the stew—”

“None of that was my fault,” she snapped, stamping her feet on the ground and bringing the swing to a halt. “And if you thought about it for more than half a second, you'd realize that I speak the truth.”

Charles decided he'd made a tactical error by bringing up her recent domestic disasters during what was supposed to be an afternoon of seduction. “Ellie,” he said in his most conciliatory voice.

She jumped down from the swing and planted her hands on her hips. “Someone is sabotaging me, and I plan to find out why. And whom,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Perhaps you're right,” he murmured, not really meaning it. He just wanted to placate her. But as the words slipped from his mouth, they suddenly rang true. It didn't make sense that Ellie, who seemed so supremely capable in every way, would have set a kitchen on fire, singlehandedly killed every plant in the orangery, and mistaken salt for God only knew what else when she was preparing the beef stew. Even the sorriest dullard couldn't have accomplished quite so much in only a fortnight.

But he didn't want to think of sabotage, nor of fiendish plots nor dead plants. Not today, when he needed to concentrate all of his energies on seducing his wife. “Can we discuss this another day?” he inquired, picking up the picnic basket. “I promise I will look into your allegations, but this is too fine a day to worry over such matters.”

Ellie made no reaction for a moment and then nodded. “I don't want to spoil our lovely picnic.” Then her eyes crinkled mischievously, and she added, “Monsieur Belmont didn't sneak in any of the leftover beef stew, did he?”

Charles recognized her peace offering and took it. “No, I think you dumped every last bit of it out this morning.”

“Ah yes,” she murmured. “As I recall, even the pigs wouldn't touch it.”

His heart warmed as he watched her. So few people had the ability to laugh at their own foibles. With every passing day, he was developing a deeper appreciation for his wife. He had chosen quickly, but he had chosen well.

Now, he thought with a sigh, if he could only man age to develop an even deeper appreciation for her before he exploded.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“You sighed.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

He sighed again.

“There it is again,” she exclaimed.

“I know. It's simply that…”

She blinked, a waiting expression on her face, and then finally she prodded him with, “Yes?”

“It's going to have to be number six,” he growled, dropping the picnic basket and engulfing her with his arms. “I can't wait another second.”

Before Ellie even had a chance to remember what number six entailed, his lips were on hers, kissing her with a fierce possessiveness that was achingly tender. His mouth grew more and more passionate, and his skin turned hot. Without realizing it, he backed her up against a tree, using its sturdy frame to press his body intimately against hers.