Ellie turned beet red. “He…ah…I…ah…”

Charles didn't even bother trying to explain.

Helen smiled. “I see your point exactly. Come along, Cordelia. I believe our newlyweds desire some privacy.”

“Newlyweds, hmph!” Cordelia barked. “They're acting like a couple of deranged birds, if you ask me.”

Ellie watched as the old lady marched out of the hall, Helen right on her heels. “Well, at least she isn't yelling ‘fire’ at every opportunity anymore.”

Charles blinked. “You're right. I think our myriad accidents in the kitchen may have scared the fire right out of her.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, depending on your viewpoint, it has not done the same for me.”

“I'm afraid I don't see your point.”

“What I mean,” he fairly growled, “is that I am on fire.”

Ellie's eyes and her mouth made three perfect O's.

“So get that little body of yours upstairs and into the bedroom before I ravish you here on the stairs.”

She smiled slyly. “You'd do that?”

He leaned forward, suddenly looking every inch the rake he was reputed to be. “I wouldn't issue any dares, my lady, unless you're prepared to face the consequences.”

Ellie scrambled to her feet and started to run. Charles followed, grateful that she'd decided to travel on both of her feet.

Several hours later, Ellie and Charles lounged in bed, propped up against their pillows as they ate the gourmet dinner they'd had delivered to their room. Neither had been in any state to make an appearance downstairs.

“Quail?” Charles asked, holding up a piece.

Ellie ate it right from his fingers. “Mmmm. Delicious.”

“Asparagus?”

“I'm going to get dreadfully fat.”

“You'd still be delightful.” He popped the asparagus tip between her lips.

Ellie chewed and sighed with contentment. “Monsieur Belmont is a genius.”

“That's why I hired him. Here, try a bit of this roast duck. I promise you'll adore it.”

“No, no, stop. I couldn't possibly eat another bite.”

“Ah, ye weak of heart,” Charles teased, holding up a dish and a spoon. “You can't possibly stop now. I'm trying to make a complete wanton of you. Besides, Monsieur Belmont will throw a tantrum if you do not eat the custard. It's his masterwork.”

“I didn't realize chefs had masterworks.”

He smiled seductively. “Trust me on this.”

“Very well, I concede. I'll try a small bite.” Ellie opened her mouth and let Charles spoon in some custard. “Good heaven!” she cried. “That is divine.”

“I gather you would like some more.”

“If you don't give me another bite of that custard I shall have to kill you.”

“Said with a straight face,” he said with admiration.

She shot him a sideways glance. “I'm not joking.”

“Here, have the entire pot. I hate to come between a woman and her food.”

Ellie paused in her quest to devour every last speck of custard to say, “Normally I would take offense at that remark, but I'm in far too sublime a state to do so at this moment.”