He looked at her with concern in his eyes. “I'm not sure you're up to it.”

“Nonsense.” She waggled her head from side to side and gave him a jaunty smile. “I'm up for anything.”

Now he was puzzled. He blinked a few times, picked up the bottle of laudanum, and regarded it curiously. “I thought this was supposed to make one sleepy.”

“I don't know about sleepy,” she countered, “but I certainly feel better.”

He looked at her, looked back at the bottle, and sniffed it cautiously. “Perhaps I ought to have a nip.”

“I could nip you.” She giggled.

“Now I know you've had too much laudanum.”

“I want to hear number seven.”

Charles crossed his arms and watched her yawn. She was beginning to worry him. She'd seemed to be doing so well, and then she'd practically been in tears, and now…Well, if he didn't know better, he'd think she was out to seduce him.

Which worked rather well with what he'd written down for number seven, actually, although he suddenly wasn't too keen on revealing his amorous intentions while she was in such a strange state.

“Number seven, if you please,” she persisted.

“Perhaps tomorrow…”

She pouted. “You did say you wanted to entertain me. I assure you I shan't be entertained unless I know the last item on your list.”

Charles never would have believed it of himself, but he just couldn't read the words aloud. Not when she was acting so strangely. He simply couldn't take advantage of her in this condition. “Here,” he said, appalled by the embarrassment he heard in his voice and growing a touch angry with her for making him feel like such a…such a…Good God, what was happening to him? He was positively domesticated. He scowled. “You can read it yourself.”

He placed the paper in front of her and watched while her eyes scanned his words. “Oh, my,” she squeaked. “Is that possible?”

“I assure you it is.”

“Even in my condition?” She held up her hands. “Oh. I suppose that's why you specifically mention…”

He did feel a teeny bit smug when she colored beet red. “Can't say it, darling?”

“I didn't know one could do such things with one's mouth,” she mumbled.

Charles's lips spread into a slow grin as the rake within woke up. It felt good. More like himself. “Actually, there's a lot more—”

“You can tell me about it later,” she said quickly.

His gaze grew heavy-lidded. “Or perhaps I'll show you.”

If he didn't know better, he could have sworn she steeled her shoulders when she said—or rather, gulped—“All right.”

Or maybe it was more of a squeak than a gulp. Either way, she was plainly terrified.

And then she yawned, and he realized that it didn't much matter if she was terrified or not. The extra dose of laudanum was taking effect, and she was about to…

Let out a loud snore.

He sighed and pulled back, wondering how long it was going to be before he could actually make love to his wife. Then he wondered if he could possibly live that long.