“You just wrote in your other list that you wanted a sophisticated, worldly marriage, one in which you would be free to stray.”

“That was before I met you,” he said jovially.

She planted her hands on her hips. “I have already told you that argument won't wash.”

“But it's true. To be frank, it had never occurred to me that I might find a wife to whom I wanted to be faithful. I won't tell you that I'm in love with you—”

Ellie's heart surprised her and sank.

“—but I think I might learn to love you, given time and proper encouragement.”

She crossed her arms. “You will say anything to seduce a woman, won't you?”

Charles winced. His words had sounded a lot worse than he'd intended. “This isn't coming out right,” he muttered.

She raised a brow, gifting him with an expression that was eerily reminiscent of his late nanny's—when she had been really annoyed with him. Charles suddenly felt rather like a scolded child—a most unpleasant sensation for a man of his stature.

“Hell, Ellie,” he burst out, jumping off the bed and onto his feet, “I want to make love to my wife. Is that such a crime?”

“It is when you don't care about her.”

“I do care about you!” He raked his hand through his hair, and his expression grew decidedly exasperated. “I like you better than any female I've ever met. Why the hell do you think I married you?”

“Because without me, your entire fortune would have gone to your odious cousin Cecil.”

“Phillip,” he corrected automatically, “and I could have married anybody to save my fortune. Believe me, I had my pick of the litter in London.”

“Pick of the litter?” she gasped. “What a horrendous thing to say. Have you no respect for women?”

“When was the last time you went to London and took a whirl on the social scene?”

“You know I've never—”

“Exactly my point. Trust me, if you had a chance to meet most of the debutantes, you would know of what I speak. I found only one last year with more than half a brain in her head, and she was already in love with someone else.”

“Clearly a testament to the fact that she possessed more than half a brain.”

Charles allowed her her little dig. “Ellie,” he said in a soft, encouraging tone, “what reason could there possibly be for us not to make ours a true marriage?”

Ellie opened her mouth, but she couldn't figure out what to say. Everything she could think of sounded rather weak and lame. How was she to explain to him that she didn't think she was ready to be intimate because it was a feeling she had? She had no rational arguments, no sound and well thought out reasons, just a feeling.

And even if she could somehow convey this feeling, she suspected that she wouldn't be terribly convincing. Not when his constant sensual onslaught was wearing her down, making her want him.