Of their own accord, his feet stopped before the door to her bedchamber. He found himself holding his breath, listening for sounds from the room. A powerful wave of desire washed over him as he stood gripped with indecision, wanting nothing so much as to fling open the door and spend the rest of the night making his wife happy. His lips twisted wryly as he eased the tight material of his breeches across the proof of his arousal. Just the thought of her so close, so tantalizingly near left his heart pounding with the effort to keep his needs under control, his whole body straining for release at the image of her awaiting him in bed, warm, welcoming, loving…

He grimaced at the last word. That was the problem, she didn’t love him. Hell, he doubted if she even liked him. She was physically attracted to him, but so were a good many other women, and while he had no complaints with a purely physical relationship based on mutual satisfaction, that was not what he wanted from a wife. A wife was different.

Not that he had wanted a wife, he pointed out to himself as he turned away from her door. But he had one now, and it was up to both of them to make the best of it. He wanted Charlotte to be a friend, a partner, someone who desired to share his life, not just his bed.

Dare hissed an oath as he strode down the hall to his small dressing room, cursing his foolish pride, cursing his need for something more than a lover. Why couldn’t he be like other men and take what was offered without looking to engage her affections? He stripped off his breeches and boots, throwing them heedlessly in a corner before washing the dust and grime off his torso. Towel in hand, he glared down at himself. Despite the cold water he was still hot and hard and in desperate need of relief.

“Traitor,” he growled to his arousal before stalking to the window, looking out at the empty moonlit streets, trying to ignore the demands of his body that swept all else from his mind. Certainly looking at a street would be safe. There was nothing out there to remind him of the warm, supple woman lying in the room next to his. No, there was just a street out there, a common, everyday sight. True, the crescent curve of the street reminded him of the sweet curve of her hips, but that was the merest of coincidences. And that the silvered light glinting off a puddle of water was just as bright as the sunlight striking her golden curls was of no account. Of course, there was the deep indigo of a shadowed doorway that mimicked her eyes as they darkened in passion when he took possession of her sweet, alluring mouth…

“Dammit!” he snarled, dropping the drape and whirling away from the window. His arousal was throbbing now, actually throbbing with want and need and desire. He considered easing himself just so he could sleep, but grimly told himself he wasn’t that desperate.