The Earl Claims His Wife by Cathy Maxwell

of us can sleep in the covers and the other on the outside.”
    She didn’t say anything. If he thought she trusted him enough to lie next to him in bed, he was wrong.
    “Don’t be this way, Gillian. You’re tired. Come along. It is possible for a man and woman to be in such quarters and not kiss or ravage each other.”
    “I’m well aware of that,” she responded primly, focusing as much as she could on the floorboards and not on him.
    He gave a heavy sigh. “I’m attempting to be accommodating here, Gillian,” he pointed out.
    “I realize that.” She also realized he was mocking her. She couldn’t wait to be rid of him. He seemed to know exactly the right thing to do to goad her—
    Her complaints broke off as he lifted the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head.
    Gillian’s first instinct was to look away, but she didn’t. Their wedding night came roaring back to her.
    There had been no light in the room then. Not a candle or even a fire in the grate like there was now because they’d married in summer. It had been pitch black, or had she closed her eyes?
    She remembered the sound of him entering her room, crossing to the bed, and then disrobing. She could still recall the give of the bed as he’d joined her and her sense of anticipation in discovering he was naked beneath the sheets. Her heart must have beat double time that night.
    Modesty had made her shy, but curiosity had made her bold. She’d been raised in the country and had six siblings all much younger than herself. She understood where babies came from and had a vague notion of how.
    But she’d not seen her husband naked that night because by the time morning came, he was gone from her bed.
    Now, she almost had to look. She’d always wondered what the only man she’d ever bedded looked like. She’d had imaginings but never confirmation.
    Pretending to try to be comfortable in her chair, she let her gaze drift toward him—and then stared.
    His chest was all flat planes. There was no pudge to him at all, even over the waist of his breeches.
    No wonder he moved with such grace. His muscles were lean and long, his bone structure strong.
    Not even the Greeks could have sculpted such a perfect man—
    “Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
    Gillian blinked, heat flooding her cheeks at having been caught staring.
    He laughed, again. She didn’t know if she’d ever become accustomed to the sound. It defied the picture she’d spent years building of him. It made him human.
    “Gillian, don’t be so embarrassed. You have a right to look. If you started undressing, I’d stare.”
    The heated image such a statement conjured in her mind brought her to her feet in a mixture of outrage and yearning. “You are deliberately provoking me.”
    “No, I’m teasing you, or attempting to do so. I know you are uncomfortable, but, Gillian, be reasonable. I won’t ravage you or even offer a peck on the cheek. I’m tired. You’ve worn me thin.” He climbed under the covers, stretching out. “Come to bed, Gillian. You will only make yourself angrier with lack of sleep.”
    But Gillian wasn’t ready to give up her anger, not when he looked so good in that bed. Instead, she girded herself with impotent rage. It was the only defense left to her.
    “Have it your way then,” he said with equanimity and rolled over, giving her his back.
    Gillian stood ready to smite him down if he should rise out of the bed and seize her. Long minutes drew out between them.
    Just as she was ready to relax her guard, he said, “Thank you, Gillian.”
    “For what?”
    “For coming with me. It’s all going to be good now. It will be all right.” He didn’t look at her but stayed on his side.
    “I don’t know that I can help your desire for a place on Liverpool’s staff,” she confessed.
    He shrugged. “It is enough that you are here. A wife is important to a man in government. She gives him character.” He leaned onto his back. “It’s also nice to have