not?” she snapped, staring at a spot over his shoulder.
“I do. I just—”
“Just what? Make up your mind, Gavin.”
He let out a tight breath. “Fine. I’ll be here Wednesday.”
He thought about crossing the room and pulling her into his arms before leaving, more to reassure himself than anything else, but everything about her body language screamed TOUCH ME AND YOU LOSE A TESTICLE. So yeah. Things were off to a great start already.
Gavin settled for a small nod before trudging out to his car. He started the engine but sat in the driveway, watching as light after light went dark inside. Everything he loved most in the world was in that house, and driving away was going to be harder tonight than it had ever been. Because the next time he returned, he had just one month to earn the right to stay. Though her conditions made his task difficult, a batter didn’t get to choose his pitches. All he could do was study the field and come up with a game plan.
One month.
That’s all it had taken for them to fall in love the first time.
He could do it again.
“Okay, Lord Tight Pants,” Gavin said as he backed out of the driveway. “Tell me what to do next.”
Courting the Countess
It took two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours for Benedict to realize the fatal flaw in his starting-over plan.
His wife was not a willing participant in it.
He couldn’t very well court someone who had no desire to be courted.
Irena had not allowed him more than a few minutes of time alone with her since their wedding night, though she was clever enough to make it seem unintentional. Anytime he attempted to engage with her, she suddenly had a pressing matter to discuss with the cook or a task that needed to be finished elsewhere. Whenever he finished with the business of the estate, she suddenly became consumed with her own. And though the door separating their bedchambers remained unlocked every night, he could not bring himself to enter hers and quench his burning thirst to consummate the marriage. Not as long as she believed that allowing him into her bed was simply her duty. Not until her thirst was as strong as his.
But Benedict was not giving up. He was and would always be a risk-taker at heart—something he and Irena shared. It was, after all, how they met. When he learned that a lowly baron’s horse had beaten one of his prestigious thoroughbreds, he was shocked and smitten to discover the horse had been trained by none other than the lowly baron’s daughter herself.
Which made them both rebellious gamblers and absolutely perfect for each other in a way that Benedict had never before known was possible.
And now it was time to up the ante.
Benedict poured two fingers of brandy into a glass and positioned himself next to the fireplace in his office to wait for her. When her knock sounded on the heavy wooden door, he downed the amber liquid to calm his nerves and commanded her to enter.
She walked in wearing a day dress of pale blue and an annoyed expression. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. “You summoned me, my lord?”
He ignored her sharp sarcasm. Benedict gestured toward the sofa near the window. “Please sit.”
She hesitated, probably caught off guard by the formality of his tone, but then she obeyed. She sat in a stiff, ladylike pose—spine straight, hands primly folded in her lap, legs crossed at the ankles and draped elegantly to the side.
“I have another gift for you,” he said.
Her sigh could have powered a steam engine. “My lord—”
“Benedict.”
“—this has to stop.”
“You do not like the other gifts I’ve given you?” He’d given her seven so far. Earbobs and necklaces and bracelets in every shade of gemstone.
“They are unnecessary.”
“You are the only woman I have ever met who would describe earbobs and rings as unnecessary.”
“Then you must not know many women.”
“Touché.” Benedict pulled away from the mantel and crossed to his desk. From the drawer, he pulled out the unwrapped box. It took only a handful of steps to reach the sofa, but it felt longer under the weight of her gaze and the threat of his failure. “Perhaps this gift will be of more use to you.”
She accepted the box and wordlessly opened it. Her eyebrows pulled together as she withdrew the slim, silver instrument. “What is it?”
“That,” Benedict said, lowering himself to sit beside her, “is a