“How noble and self-sacrificing of you, my lord! To go without dessert! So stoic. So honorable. So—” “Shut up and eat your blasted syllabub.” With an impish smile, she did just that, with such blatant pleasure it was sheer torment to watch. Rafe gulped at his wine, but it failed to dull his desire. She seemed unaware of him, all of her senses engrossed in her sweet solitary pleasures. And he… Damn it, he was jealous! Of a blasted spoonful of blasted whipped cream!
