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to that distressing event than what had initially occurred to her.
    “I decided that very night that, if I survived the war, I would marry you,” he said, taking a sip of tea.
    Pleased that he cared a little for her, at least, it still irked her that he’d taken her for granted. “How could you be so certain I’d still be single?”
    He brushed a hand through his fair hair, which settled into neat waves. She admired her handwork and longed to rake her fingers through it again. “I wasn’t of course,” he said. “But I knew you to be an intelligent woman, Selina. You wouldn’t fall for a rake or a fortune hunter. That left marrying for love or for physical attraction.” He grinned. “And I knew you fancied me.”
    She grew hot with indignation. “Oh, the size of your head, my lord! It’s a wonder you can fit on your hat! I’ve long suspected you were insufferable. And it appears I was right.”
    A smiled lifted the corner of his mouth. He raised his eyebrows. “Insufferable?”
    Insufferable and impossibly gorgeous, but she wasn’t about to stroke his ego. Many women would have done it before her.
    His blue eyes searched hers. “When I came home on leave and asked you to marry me that first time, why did you turn me down flat?”
    “You mean your unromantic proposal, which was more of an afterthought? When your intention was to secure an heir and return to fight? I suppose I was underwhelmed.” It had been pure self-preservation. She couldn’t bear to marry him and have him be gone for years, leaving her to worry about him. And if he’d been killed, she wouldn’t have wanted to live.
    He raised a brow but didn’t pursue it. “I’m confident we can rub along together reasonably well. If you’ll stop fussing over me like a mother.”
    “You like my fussing. You just won’t admit it.” She teased him, hoping he meant it.
    He threw back his head and laughed.
    She loved to hear him laugh; his voice was deep, warm, and rich. She hoped to make him laugh like that often through the years of their marriage. But good marriages grew strong through years of devotion. How close would she and Devereux be in five years, ten?
    “I’m damn tired of being sick,” he said, sobering. “I know I make a poor patient. And you are patience personified.”
    “After dinner I’ll play cards or chess with you,” she said, offering him a panacea.
    “You are a conniving woman. You wish to distract me.” He quirked a brow. “Are you confident you can beat me at piquet?”
    “I shall certainly try.”
    He grinned. “Please do, otherwise it will be too easy.”
    “We mustn’t make you too excited,” she said with a smile.
    “Oh no,” he said crossly. “We can’t have that!”

Chapter Ten

    Giles couldn’t keep hold of the anger and disillusionment that his situation had thrown him in. Not when his pretty wife greeted him every morning and entertained him in harmless pursuits at night. He watched her across the card table, attempting to read her hand by her expression, but she was good at foxing. He enjoyed looking at her. Selina was an exotic flower amongst English daisies. She should wear the jewel colors many women couldn’t carry with any degree of grace. And if he survived this business, he fully intended to see her dressed that way.
    As the days passed, Giles found it increasingly difficult to tamp down his frustration. He was still as weak as a kitten. It was something he wasn’t used to, and it infuriated him. He hid the desperate situation he found himself in from Selina, determined to do whatever was necessary to protect her. He didn’t believe in love, felt incapable of that level of emotion. But he’d made a splendid choice of a bride. He lay back and closed his eyes while she read from Shakespeare’s anthology. She gave her voice just the right inflection and brought the beautiful words to life.
    “You read that exceedingly well.”
    She glanced up at him looking shy and appealing. “Did