Flawless by Carrie Lofty Page A

than a man should possess. “Stand up.”
    Viv flinched. “Really, Miles? You’re going to play this now? I haven’t bathed, for God’s sake!”
    “And you’re probably exhausted.”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “Which is why I thought you might need help removing your dress.” He said it so matter-of-factly, as if seduction weren’t his aim. “Now, do you want out of that corset or not?”
    Miles waited. He should have felt conspicuous or ashamed of his imposition. But he didn’t. At the end of a long and strenuous day, Viv was exactly what he needed.
    Not that he expected to bed her that evening. She was filthy, as was he. His collarbone throbbed. And he doubted his wife’s ability to do more than lie on that deliciously white duvet and accept his body’s unwelcome invasion.
    Yes, Miles wanted to win big. Their deal had been for her enthusiasm. Lovemaking on this, their first night together in the contradictory wilds of Kimberley, would result in more resignation than vigor. Her posture practically shouted, “Have done and leave me be.”
    Too bad. Twenty months awaited her slow but certain capitulation.
    Not that he expected to wait that long. God above, to live in close proximity to her for that many months, weeks, days—nights. He hadn’t come to Cape Colony to go mad.
    “How does Chloe fare?” he asked.
    A flash of surprise broke through her wariness. Then it was gone, leaving only the silvery memory of it, like the burn of a lightning strike on the back of one’s eye.
    Miles took note. Flies to honey and all that. Another technique to save for the future. But merciful Christ, did she find concern from him so unlikely? Probably. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d inquired after her well-being without ulterior motives. Like now. He flicked his wedding ring with the pad of his thumb but forced himself to stop.
    “She’s resting,” Viv said. “I found an empty tray of food outside her door, so she must have eaten.”
    “Good, good. And you don’t want to wake her up, do you?”
    “No.”
    “I thought not. Up, then.”
    With the hesitancy of an invalid standing for the first time in years, she arose from the settee. “You don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice catching.
    “Does that mean you want me to leave?”
    “Yes.”
    He trailed his index finger up her forearm. Goose bumps followed his progress. “That wasn’t our agreement.”
    Her eyes rolled closed. Desire slid straight to Miles’sgroin. But her expression had nothing to do with succumbing to passion. Hypnosis or an out-of-body experience appeared to be her aim—anything to escape that moment, standing there, being touched by her husband.
    Miles watched, fascinated, as the side of her neck fluttered with a fervent pulse. She seemed so outwardly calm. He remembered her first introduction to his parents, the Earl and Countess of Bettenford, at their ancestral home in Hampshire. Regal had been the only word his stuttering brain had summoned. That Viv’s astonishing beauty had swayed his father was no surprise. That her tranquil grace and immaculate poise had even managed to charm his mother remained one of the seven modern wonders.
    That Miles had wanted her as much as his parents coveted her dowry . . . Trouble.
    How often did she confront the world that way, with her body and her words so perfectly composed, yet her insides churning in revolt? Perhaps he should’ve been pleased that he merited such an effort, but Miles wanted to shake her until she cracked open and spilled out all that was ugly and true.
    “What’s so amusing?” she asked.
    “I was just thinking of . . . true things.”
    “We can do this if you wish, but my enthusiasm will be sorely lacking.”
    “Not to worry. I have decided not to bed you, Viv. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. I’d like to say that I’ll wait until you want it as much as I do, but I despair for delaying that long.”
    “Ah.”
    What an odd noise. Perhaps it was a sign of