Ellie felt positively naked, and she gratefully donned the matching peignoir. She shivered—partly because there was a chill in the night air, and partly because she could hear Charles moving about in his room. He usually came in to bid her goodnight, but Ellie thought she might develop a case of mad nerves if she sat around and waited for him. She'd never been very patient.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she lifted her hand and knocked on the connecting door.

Charles froze in the act of removing his cravat. Ellie never knocked on the connecting door. He always visited her in her room, and besides that, were her hands healed enough to be knocking on wood? He didn't think she'd suffered any burns on her knuckles, but still…

He pulled the cravat the rest of the way off, tossed it onto an ottoman, and strode across the room to the door. He didn't want her turning the knob, so instead of calling out, “Come in,” he simply pulled the door open.

And nearly fainted.

“Ellie?” he said, or rather, choked.

She only smiled.

“What are you wearing?”

“I…ah…it's part of my trousseau.”

“You don't have a trousseau.”

“I thought I might be able to use one.”

Charles pondered the ramifications of this statement and felt his skin grow quite warm.

“May I come in?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” He stepped aside and allowed her to enter, his mouth dropping open as she passed by. Whatever she was wearing was cinched at the waist, and the silk clung to every curve.

She turned around. “I suppose you're wondering why I'm here.”

He reminded himself to close his mouth.

“I'm wondering myself,” she said, laughing nervously.

“Ellie, I—”

She shrugged off the peignoir.

“Oh, God,” he croaked. His eyes rolled heavenward. “I'm being tested. That's it, isn't it? I'm being tested.”

“Charles?”

“Put that back on,” he said frantically, grabbing the peignoir off the floor. It was still warm from her skin. He dropped it and reached for a woolen blanket. “No, better yet, put this on.”

“Charles, stop!” She raised her arms to push away the blanket, and he saw that her eyes were filling with tears.

“Don't cry,” he blurted out. “Why are you crying?”

“Don't you…? Don't you…?”

“Don't I what?”

“Don't you want me?” she whispered. “Even a little bit? You did last week, but I wasn't dressed like this, and—”

“Are you mad?” he fairly shouted. “I want you so much I'm liable to perish on the spot. So cover yourself up, because otherwise you're going to kill me.”

Ellie planted her hands on her hips, growing just a little irritated with the direction of the conversation.

“Watch out for your hands!” he yelled.

“My hands are fine,” she snapped.

“They are?”

“As long as I don't run ungloved through a rosebush.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

For a split second he didn't move. Then he came at her with a force that knocked the breath clear out of her. One minute Ellie was standing, and the next she was on her back, on the bed, with Charles on top of her.