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Colin felt a tightening in his gut.
Daphne gave an impish grin, and Belinda laughed down at her. It was clear Belinda was in her element—spattered with paint and laughing. And she was relaxed, naturally, all because she thought he wasn’t there.
In the next moment, however, she glanced up and caught his eye. She froze, and he gave her a mocking salute with a lift of his lips.
For him, every look and glance was overlaid with the memory from Vegas of kissing her luscious pink lips, smoothing his hand down a satin thigh and tracing a path along the tender skin of her abdomen.
Belinda quickly looked down to answer another of Daphne’s questions.
When Daphne finally moved off, Colin sauntered in.
Belinda glanced at him warily.
“Who knew that what was missing was an art room?”
She gave him a
tart look. “Well, it does already possess a double-height library, two wine cellars and a private theater.”
He let his eyes crinkle. “Welcome to the ancestral pile.”
“Is there any element I’ve overlooked?”
“No worries. You’ve added the missing element. An art room.”
“You’re the one who has a Renoir hanging in the master suite.”
“Perhaps I was hoping to tempt you.”
Belinda reddened. “Thank you, but I’m perfectly content with reproductions in books.”
He laughed softly. "Any time you change your mind…"
“I won't.”
“The agreement is awaiting your review and signature.”
They both knew which contract he was referring to. It was the postnuptial accord that she had set up as the final barrier between them.
Belinda turned away. “Yes, I know. I'll get to it as soon as I have the chance.”
“Don't wait too long.”
He laced the words with promise. He watched Belinda's profile stain with heat again before she walked over to help another child.
Colin watched her go.
He'd stayed away in London and New York on business for a week, he'd taken cold showers and pressed his attorney to act fast. Let Belinda feel some of his urgency.
He knew he had to keep up the heat. He would seduce his wife back into his bed.
And then his plan to make Belinda acknowledge she wanted a Granville—that their night in Vegas was no fluke—would be achieved.
Frankly, his sanity was starting to depend on it.
Nine
When Colin had suggested they attend a performance at Covent Garden, Belinda had been unable to resist agreeing. She knew Aïda was playing. She’d always thought the opera was unbearably beautiful.
