Page 52 of Bound By her Earl

She felt sure that she’d missed some words in there, but it was hard to imagine what they should have been. Puddles, after all, were not known for their oratory skills.

And besides, the low chuckle that left her husband’s mouth at her garbled nonsense made her feel warm and cozy inside.

So she just lay there, limp as a rag doll, as Benedict slipped off her shoes and unlaced the back of her gown and corset, already drifting off into sleep as he left her in chemise and stockings, a blanket draped carefully over her form.

It was no doubt, she knew, far too early to head to bed, but between the fuzziness of her mind and the heaviness of her limbs, she felt it impossible to worry about that overmuch. It had been, after all, a dreadfully long day, what with waking up as Miss Emily Rutley and going to bed as Emily Hoskins, the deliciously debauched Countess of Moore.

Surely tomorrow was soon enough to become responsible again, she thought sleepily. And perhaps Benedict would help her. That would be nice.

The thought brought a smile to her face as she slipped into slumber, too far gone to realize that her husband was leaving the room and closing the door behind him with a decisive, ominous click.

CHAPTER 14

Benedict sat, scowl firmly in place, at his breakfast table, not even able to enjoy the peace of knowing his mother was living elsewhere and therefore unable to barge in and disturb his peace with her squawking.

It was hard to enjoy things, after all, when one had made such an absolute, hideous, shuddering mess of things the way he had the evening prior.

He’d been up half the night, chastising himself over it.

Or rather, most of it had been self-denigration. Other parts had been…other self-inflicted torment, brought about by the memories of the way his wife had gasped for him, the way she’d trembled as she’d unraveled, the way her eyes had gone soft and hooded as he’d gripped her by the hair…

He stopped that line of thinking before it went too far.

He was very glad about this in short order as it was only a moment or two later that his new wife entered the room, looking proper, pristine, and a far cry from the well-pleasured jumble he’d tucked into her bed the night before.

Not that he was thinking of that, of course. The conversation they needed to have was not one for which he wished to be aroused. Especially since his furious arousal had caused this bloody problem in the first place.

“Good morning,” she said with a polite smile that held just enough brightness to make him cringe. There was hope in that smile. Expectation. Exactly the things he did not need to see from her.

His return smile was the barest twitch of the lips.

“Good morning, Emily. Please sit.” He nodded to the chair to his right.

Her expression flickered, just a bit, confusion taking momentary control of her face, and he swore inwardly. This was what happened when he was derelict in his duties, what happened when he let hispassions—the word sounded fouler in his head than any of the epithets he’d just imagined—take control of his sense.

She sat with an easy elegance, and he admitted that, for all the nonsense that had led to their union and the uncomfortable conversation they were due to have, shewouldmake a good countess.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, only polite concern in her tone. This was, he knew, complete shite. He could see through her all too easily now. She was trying to puzzle him out, and her confusion was quickly turning to worry.

“Of course,” he said tersely. Better to get this over with, after all. “I merely thought, now that we are officially wed that we might have a frank and honest discussion about the terms of our marriage.”

She blinked—just once. “The terms…?” she echoed. It was an opening, a generous one.

He wanted to go back in time to the day prior and kick his own arse for not having this conversationbeforehe’d dragged her to bed. He’d meant to. It had been, in fact, very high on his list of priorities. But then his mother had, as usual, caused a disturbance, and then Emily had disappeared, and when he’d found her again, it justhappenedto be adjacent to their bedchambers.

He was only a man, after all. How could he resist, especially when she’d given him those wide, innocent looks, when she’d tried to show him that missish façade that covered up a vixen…

He cleared his throat. He was meant to be speaking, not…remembering.

“Indeed,” he said crisply. “I have always found that clear rules?—”

“Rules?”she interjected, apparently startled out of her propriety.

“—expectations,” he amended seamlessly with a nod. “I have always found that clear expectations at the outset of an endeavor help matters go more smoothly for everyone involved.”

She didn’t respond right away, instead taking a long moment to gaze at him with wary, assessing eyes.

“Very well,” she said eventually.

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