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“I’m not interested,” Oscar said, standing. An hour later, he walked down his hallway to join his wife in the library. She was curled in her favorite chair with a book in her lap. She appeared flushed and shocked, letting him wonder at her reading material.
He cleared his throat, and she glanced up, hurriedly closing the book and slipping it behind her.
“You are home. I thought you were to spend the night at White’s.”
Shrugging out of his coat, he tossed it onto one of the settees. “That was my initial intention, but somehow I could not stop thinking about cheroots and brandy.”
“Oh, dear.”
He arched a brow. “Is that all you have to say, my lady?”
“It depends entirely on what your thoughts concluded, my lord.”
“Ah, I shall tell you.”
Her eyes sparkled with a challenge. “Please hurry. My nerves are not stiff enough to withstand rife anticipation.”
Oscar removed his boots, jacket, and waistcoat before padding over to the mantle and poured brandy into two glasses. “I wondered at your brazenness in smoking, wife. I wondered if I should come home, turn you over my knees and spank you.”
She made a choking sound low in her throat. A glance showed she stared at him with widened eyes and a mystified expression.
A faint wash of pink spread across her cheek. “Spank me!”
“Yes, though after I would kiss it better.”
His countess appeared fit to faint. “My heart is pattering with such a delightful warning.”
Such a quick and provocative wit. Oscar chuckled. How worldly she tried to appear, but her blush burned even redder. “I thought that as your husband, I should know the things you like and indulge them. Within reason, of course.”
She stood and smoothed the front of her nightgown. “I do like the idea of being spoilt. Why should there be a reasonable boundary? I urge you to indulge to your heart's pleasure. Your lady is a willing participant.”
He padded over to her and held out a glass. She stared at him with a frown.
“Oscar?”
“I think it is a damn shame that if my wife desires to drink, she cannot do this in the comfort of her own home. I thought, my lady, tonight you could share a drink and a cheroot with me.”
Prue stilled, and in her eyes, he spied an emotion that he could not decipher. When those lovely green eyes filled with tears, he walked over to her side, setting the glasses down on the small table to her left.
“What is wrong, Prue?”
She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ears. “I…there is nothing wrong. Everything is perfect.”
“You are fighting tears,” he said gruffly, slipping his hand around her waist and pulling her closer to him.
“They are happy tears,” she said with a smile that wobbled. “Three weeks ago, we were barely speaking, and now we are going to share a cheroot together.”
“Perhaps I should admit I only intended to allow you two draws.”
Predictably she laughed, the sound enchanting him.
He picked up the glasses and handed her one. She took a sip, licking the droplets from her lip, tempting him to ravish those lush curves. There was a look in her eyes that had him raising a brow in question.
“What is it?”
“There is something I have been thinking about. I was not certain how to broach the topic.”
“Simply tell me.”
