lie, and she knew it.
Well, Callie? What did you expect? That he would fall madly in love with you and fawn over you like a lovelorn suitor after one day of marriage?
On a sigh, she rolled over. How foolish she was. She had allowed the earl’s lovemaking to rot her mind. Theirs was not a happy marriage. It was a marriage of convenience.
Sinclair had what he wanted now—her dowry, her silence, and the consummation of their union. Having secured that, he had gone off to do whatever he wished, not even bothering to inform her where he had gone or when he might deign to return.
Where had he gone? To his illicit club?
Did he have a mistress? He had claimed he did not, but Callie was not certain he was to be believed. His sobriquet was Sin, after all. After last night, she could attest to the reason for it.
At the memory of his wicked caresses and kisses, her traitorous body heated up and a new awareness burned between her thighs. She promptly squelched the sensations with the reminder that her husband could, for all she knew, currently be visiting those same kisses and caresses upon another woman.
Or, worse, other women.
Feeling ill, she rolled again, onto her stomach.
And that was when she heard a thud from the chamber next door.
Apparently, her errant husband had returned.
Another thump echoed through the silence of the night.
Callie sat up in bed, scowling in the direction of the earl’s apartments. How dare he return in the midst of the night and then proceed to make so much noise? Had he no respect for her?
Sadly, she suspected she already knew the answer to that question.
Callie’s dudgeon would no longer be ignored. She slid from her bed, not even bothering to find her dressing gown. Her nightdress—long and high-necked and modest—would suffice. She made her way through the shadows, narrowly avoiding crashing into a chair, until she reached the door joining their chambers.
Light shone beneath it like a beacon.
Without bothering to knock, Callie swept the door open.
Her husband was seated on the edge of his bed, fully clothed save his boots, which she gathered were the source of the noise. They lay on their sides, half a dozen feet from him, as if he had launched them there. His neck cloth was loose, and his dark eyes devoured her as she hovered on the threshold. Somehow, the sight of him—dissolute yet handsome as ever—filled her with trepidation.
“You look like a bloody governess in that night rail,” he said, breaking the silence.
How insufferably rude.
“Where have you been all day and evening, my lord?” she demanded, although she had promised herself she would not ask.
Would not act as if she cared.
She did not care.
Who are you trying to fool? whispered an insidious voice inside her. Stupid voice.
“I was visiting a friend,” he said.
A friend.
Instantly, the beautiful Duchess of Longleigh rose to her mind.
“All day and night?” she pressed.
Curse you, Callie. What are you doing? Return to your chamber.
But she lingered, there at the threshold, awaiting his answer. The caring lover of the night before was gone. He seemed different this evening, but she could not quite define how or why.
“Did you miss me, wife?” he mocked, that sensual mouth of his quirking into a taunting smile.
Yes.
“No. There were merely some matters which arose I wished to discuss with you,” she said, careful to keep her voice as even as possible.
“Matters?” Holding her gaze, he shrugged out of his coat and began unbuttoning his waistcoat.
She ran her tongue over her lips, thinking she ought to flee for certain now. “Household matters. What manner of friend were you visiting?”
His grin deepened, damn him. “Not a female friend, if that is what you are asking, princess.”
The relief sweeping over her nettled.
She tamped it down. “Your affairs are none of my concern. Forgive me the interruption. I will speak with you tomorrow. Good evening, my lord.”
“Wait.”
She paused when she would have spun about and returned to the safety of her chamber, as was wise.
He crooked a finger at her. “Come here, little wife.”
Little wife.
She did not know why the phrase, uttered in his silken voice, sent a rush of heat to her core. She also did not why her feet were moving. Padding across the threadbare rug. Obeying him.
What was wrong with her?
Callie stopped just beyond his reach. “What do you want of me, my lord?”
“My name on your lips for a start,” he drawled, his gaze dipping to her mouth.
She was sure