“I am certain I do not know what you are talking about.”

He let go of her hair and let his fingers trail down the side of her neck. “I am certain you don't,” he murmured. “But you will. And then you will be satisfied.”

Ellie's eyes narrowed as she jerked out of his grasp. Her new spouse certainly did not have any difficulties relating to his self-esteem. She rather doubted he had ever heard the word, “No,” uttered from female lips. She narrowed her eyes and asked, “You have seduced many women, haven't you?”

“I hardly think that is the sort of question one asks one's husband.”

“I think it is exactly the sort of question one should be asking one's husband.” She planted her hands firmly on her hips. “Women are nothing but a game to you.”

Charles stared at her for a moment. Her statement was nothing if not astute. “Not a game, precisely,” he said, stalling for time.

“Then what?”

“Well, at the very least, you are not a game.”

“Oh? And what am I?”

“My wife,” he bit off, losing patience with this line of conversation.

“You haven't any idea how to treat a wife.”

“I know exactly how to treat a wife,” he snapped. “I am not the problem.”

Offended, Ellie lurched backward. “What, precisely, are you attempting to say?”

“You, madam, do not know how to be a wife.”

“I have only been a wife for one day,” she all but growled. “What do you expect?”

All of a sudden Charles felt the complete cad. He had promised her time to accustom herself to marriage, and here he was snapping at her like a dragon. He let out a soft sigh of regret. “I am sorry, Ellie. I don't know what came over me.”

She looked startled by his apology, and then her face softened. “Do not trouble yourself over it, my lord. It has been a stressful few days for us all. And…”

“And what?” he prompted when she failed to complete her sentence.

She cleared her throat. “Nothing. Merely that I suppose you could not have been expecting to find me this morning with my head in an oven.”

“It was something of a shock,” he said mildly.

Ellie fell silent. After a few moments, she opened her mouth, then shut it.

One corner of Charles's mouth turned up. “Did you want to say something?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“You did.”

“It wasn't important.”

“Oh, come now, Ellie. You wanted to defend your kitchen skills, or oven skills, or whatever you want to call them, didn't you?”

Her chin jutted out ever so slightly. “I can assure you that I have adjusted oven racks a million times before.”

“You've hardly been alive long enough to have performed the task a million times.”

She let out an outraged gasp. “Am I not allowed to speak in hyperbole?”

“Only,” he said, a bit too smoothly, “if you are talking about me.”

Ellie's face slid into a smirk. “Oh, Charles,” she exclaimed, “I feel as if we have known each other for a million years.” Her tone grew more ironic. “I am that weary of your company.”