Page 17 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

"Through truth," he countered. "About what you're denying yourself. About what we could be together, if you'd only let yourself feel."

"And what if I told you," Elizabeth said, forcing steel into her voice, "that I have no interest in feeling anything with you? That our arrangement suits me perfectly well as it is?"

Cecil's laugh was soft and dangerous. "Then I would say you vastly underestimate the effect a man can have on his wife." He moved closer, his presence overwhelming yet still honoring his word not to touch her. "Tell me, Elizabeth, do you pleasure yourself at night? Or are you as proper in your private chambers as you pretend to be in my presence?"

"You are absolutely depraved," she managed, though her voice emerged mortifyingly breathy. "To speak of such...such things..."

"Are you scandalized, wife?" His lips ghosted near her ear, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. "I'm merely being a considerate husband, ensuring my wife's needs are met since she claims to want nothing from me. Though I must say, the way you're trembling suggests you might want quite a bit."

Elizabeth tried to step back but found herself against his desk. "You know nothing of what I want."

"On the contrary." His hand came to rest on the desk beside her hip, caging her in without touching. "I know exactly what you want. You want me to break my word. To grab you by that delectable waist, bend you over this desk, and make you forget every proper thought in that clever head of yours. To make you scream my name so loudly the servants will blush at breakfast."

"You are utterly?—"

"Wicked? Indeed." His other hand traced the air above her collarbone, following her scar's path downward. "And you're fascinated by it. Since you're so certain of your victory in our little challenge, perhaps you should practice finding your own pleasure in the meantime. After all, three months is a very long time to deny yourself...especially when you'll be thinking of me every time you touch yourself in the dark."

Elizabeth felt her face flame scarlet, equal parts scandalized and inflamed by his vulgar suggestions. "You are without doubt the most insufferable man I have ever met."

"And you," he murmured, finally stepping back with that infuriating smirk, "are the most enticing woman I've ever had the pleasure of watching blush. Sweet dreams, wife. Do try to think of me when you're alone in your bed tonight."

She stopped at the threshold, her hand gripping the doorframe. "You are absolutely depraved."

"Depraved?" She could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm merely being a considerate husband, offering suggestions for your...comfort. Since you've made it clear you don't want my direct assistance."

Elizabeth didn't trust herself to respond. She fled down the corridor to her chambers, her heart pounding and her skin burning where he'd almost—but hadn't quite—touched her.

Once safely behind her locked door, she pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. The nerve of that man! To suggest such...such scandalous things. To make her body respond so treacherously to his mere proximity. To challenge her in ways that made her question everything she thought she knew about desire.

Her eyes fell on her bed, and Cecil's wicked suggestions flooded back unbidden.Do try to think of me when you're alone...

"Absolutely not," she muttered, though her fingers tingled with forbidden temptation. She would not give him the satisfaction, even in the privacy of her own chambers.

But as she lay in bed later, sleep proved elusive. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Cecil's knowing smile, felt the phantom trace of his almost-touches along her skin. His words echoed in her mind:Once you discover what real pleasure feels like, you won't be able to stop craving it.

Elizabeth rolled over, punching her pillow in frustration. She would prove him wrong. She had to. Because if she didn't—if she gave in to this maddening attraction—she would lose far more than their little challenge.

She would lose her heart to a man who had already declared he had no interest in keeping it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The morning sun streamed through the windows of Stonefield Manor's drawing room as Elizabeth sat with her closest friend, Dinah Barnes, who had arrived unexpectedly with Baron Trowbridge in tow. Elizabeth couldn't help but notice how her father had positioned himself as far from her as propriety allowed, his disapproving gaze sweeping over the changes she'd already implemented in her new home.

"The earl has been most generous," Luke announced, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "The debt has been settled completely, though heaven knows I didn't expect such swift resolution given the...circumstances."

Elizabeth's fingers tightened around her teacup. "How fortunate that my hasty marriage proved so convenient for your finances, Father."

Luke's expression hardened. "Mind your tone, daughter. Just because you wear a countess's coronet now doesn't mean you can forget your duty to show proper respect."

"And what of your duty?" The words slipped out before she could stop them. "Have you even asked how I fare in my new position?"

"Your position," Luke replied coldly, "is to be an obedient wife to the earl. Nothing more, nothing less. You would do well to remember that, considering your...limitations." His eyes flickered to her scar.

Dinah reached over to squeeze Elizabeth's hand, her quiet support worth more than any words could express. At twenty-one, Dinah had been Elizabeth's only true friend through countless London seasons, never once flinching from her scar or treating her as anything less than whole.

"Tell me," Luke continued, his tone growing more instructional, "have you been ensuring the earl's comfort? Managing his household properly? A man of his standing expects certain standards?—"

"I assure you," Elizabeth cut in, her voice steady despite her rising anger, "I am quite capable of managing an estate. I've had ample practice, after all."

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