“The chef turned back to the housekeeper. “Why is there doubt about the relations between Monsieur and Madame Rutledge?”The sheets,” she said succinctly.Jake nearly choked on his pastry. “You have the housemaids spying on them?” he asked around a mouthful of custard and cream.Not at all,” the housekeeper said defensively. “It’s only that we have vigilant maids who tell me everything. And even if they didn’t, one hardly needs great powers of observation to see that they do not behave like a married couple.”The chef looked deeply concerned. “You think there’s a problem with his carrot?”Watercress, carrot—is everything food to you?” Jake demanded.The chef shrugged. “Oui.”Well,” Jake said testily, “there is a string of Rutledge’s past mistresses who would undoubtedly testify there is nothing wrong with his carrot.”Alors, he is a virile man . . . she is a beautiful woman . . . why are they not making salad together?”

“Alors, he is a virile man, she is a beautiful woman . . . why are they not making salad together?”

“Zoe gave him a look that was difficult to interpret. Eventually she asked, "What makes you sure I couldn't handle you?"She didn't know what she was asking for, from a man who couldn't remember what it was like to be innocent. Lightly gripping her hair, Alex forced her face close to his. The blond curls danced around his fingers and tickled the backs of his hands. " I 'm a bastard in bed, Zoe," he said quietly. " I 'm selfish and mean as the devil. I have to have all the control. And I 'm...not nice”

“Because you need me," he said, drawing in his breath as she squirmed against him. "Just as I need you." He crushed his mouth to hers. "I've needed you for years." Another kiss, this one deep and drugging, his tongue searching her intimately”

“He took his mouth from hers and stared down at her with eyes so dark they no longer looked blue. “Amanda, do you trust me?” “Of course not,” she said. “I don’t know the first thing about you.” Laughter rustled from his chest. “Sensible woman.”

“I have nothing to offer you," he finally said in a guttural voice."Nothing."Win's lips had turned dry. She moistened them, and tried to speak through a thrill of anxious trembling. "You have yourself," she whispered."You don't know me. You think you do, but you don't. The things I've done, the things I'm capable of--you and your family, all you know of life comes from books. If you understood anything--""Make me understand. Tell me what is so terrible that you must keep pushing me away."He shook his head."Then stop torturing the both of us," she said unsteadily. "Leave me, or let me go.""I can't," he snapped. "I can't, damn you." And before she could make a sound, he kissed her.”

“All right, then,” she snapped, “do as you please! Perhaps afterward we could manage a coherent discussion.” Twisting beneath him, she flopped onto her stomach.Christopher went still. After a long hesitation, she heard him ask in a far more normal voice, “What are you doing?”“I’m making it easier for you,” came her defiant reply. “Go on, start ravishing.”Another silence. Then, “Why are you facing downward?”“Because that’s how it’s done.” Beatrix twisted to look at him over her shoulder. A twinge of uncertainty caused her to ask, “Isn’t it?”His face was blank. “Has no one ever told you?”“No, but I’ve read about it.” Christopher rolled off her, relieving her of his weight. He wore an odd expression as he asked, “From what books?”“Veterinary manuals. And of course, I’ve observed the squirrels in springtime, and farm animals and-”She was interrupted as Christopher cleared his throat loudly, and again. Darting a confused glance at him, she realized that he was trying to choke back amusement.Beatrix began to feel indignant. Her first time in a bed with a man, and he was laughing.“Look here,” she said in a businesslike manner, “I’ve read about the mating habits of over two dozen species, and with the exception of snails, whose genitalia is on their necks, they all—” She broke off and frowned. “Why are you laughing at me?Christopher had collapsed, overcome with hilarity. As he lifted his head and saw her affronted expression, he struggled manfully with another outburst. “Beatrix. I’m . . . I’m not laughing at you.”“You are!”“No I’m not. It’s just . . .” He swiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and a few more chuckles escaped. “Squirrels . . .”“Well, it may be humorous to you, but it’s a very serious matter to the squirrels.”