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She snorted, eyeing him with the purest disgust. “No. I will not address you at all!”
With that she left the table, marching briskly out of the door, ramrod straight. Reaching her chamber, she locked the door and paced some more, completely burned up by the exchange.
The masks fell then. No more vitreous politeness or feelings under tight control. Everything came to the surface. Good! She would take it head on and draw the line. If he thought he could tramp all over her, like he used to do, he was totally mistaken. She would not give way to an inch!
The door banging echoed in Conrad’s ears for long minutes. He raked his hand through his midnight hair, exasperated. He should not have lost control. He came home to make up for past mistakes, or to try, at least. She had the power to make him mad. She had become an angry woman; he understood it. He had angered her in three years. Her stony stance did not help much after all. He was only flesh and blood, he too. Not only that, she affected him more than he would like to admit, even being this whole time apart. Having been so close to her while they stood by the table affected his senses; he wanted the she-wolf he encountered here; there could be no denying it. Frustration and self-reproach duelled in him. Things looked more difficult than he had estimated. He had no intention of giving up so soon though. Not on the second day yet! He drank the rest of his water and headed for the study.
Chapter Three
A week later, Abigail opened the door. From the dressing table, Aurelia saw that Mr Hughes had knocked.
“Good morning, Lady Strafford.” He bowed. “Lord Strafford requires your presence in the study.”
Back from dinner the other night, she a restless sleep awaited and confusing dreams. She worried how she would fare from now on since she could not rely on him to act responsibly if he took over the manor’s management. She stood up, nodding.
But the skirmish presented one other unwelcome effect. So bodily close to each other, she registered his spicy scent, which affected her more than she would like to admit. Her body had reacted to his closeness, going up in temperature. His manly stance stirred something molten in her. She would have liked to ignore her reactions. They had been too blatant for that though. In the days that had followed, she tried to force herself to forget, to no avail.
“I am coming down, Hughes. Thank you.” What did her wretched husband want now? Arming herself with patience, she made for the hallway.
This last week drained away in a blur. She avoided him like the plague. In the few occasions they met, she ignored him ostensively. The tension though had gone sky high, her muscles aching from it. She tried to get a hold of herself while she strutted to the study.
After a knock at the door, she entered the study to find her unwanted husband sitting by the desk. The same she had been using for these last two years to verify the estate’s affairs. The sight provoked a sense of thwarting that almost chocked her. One of the ledgers open in front of him. He took seconds to acknowledge her. Then he lifted his head and his dark eyes fixed on her, searing her.
“It looks like you have made me a prosperous man.” The neutrality of his deep voice did not fool her.
“I did not do it for you; I did it for every family involved with the estate.” She declared, elevating her chin and looking him down her unwelcome nose.
He dressed only breeches and a white shirt, sleeves up, evidencing his strong arms. The shirt, buttoned on his neck, hinted at tanned skin soft over powerful muscles.
His dark eyes strolled her from her tight chignon, down her woollen dress and apron, to her dull boots. Heat rose to her cheeks and her hands fisted on her both sides.
“I will need an heir to leave this to,” standing up, he gestured around him, “Don’t you agree?” He boldly ignored her cross remark.
A sense of foreboding exploded in her. An heir? “Since when are you worried about anything serious in life?” She realised she the question came aloud when his eyes flashed anger and he crossed his arms on his broad muscular chest.
“The fact is that we should have had children a long time ago, but things were… confused.” He inclined his head rather ironically.
“You mean you neglected every one of your duties in favour of whoring.” She stated acidly.
“Exactly!” The curt word professed his acceptance of his… excesses, taking her by surprise.
She looked at him more attentively now and realised he meant that heir topic seriously. Brow pleated, her jaw dropped, leaving her speechless for too many seconds.
“You must have gone crazy!” No disguising a tone of desperation that entered the sentence.
“I don’t think so, wife.” He surrounded the desk and came to stand mere inches from her. “Men in my position tend to aim for an heir and a spare, you know.”
His proximity took away her ability to be reasonable. One way or the other. The whole process of having children with him got her positively on edge. Conflicting sensations assailed her, layers of contradictions impossible to put up with and more impossible to conciliate.
“No.” Was the only word that came to her mind.
“Yes.” Curt and final.
Well, the whole process of having children with her begun to look very tempting from where he stood. He envisaged a beautiful woman, hot-blooded and delectable. From this close, her perfect face, her defiance and her firmness seemed deliciously more alluring. Verbena. His nostrils registered her scent, verbena and woman.
The warmth of her body reached him, her eyes wide, her lips apart. The lips he remembered in his cold soldier cot; neither full, nor thin–elegant, appealing. And then her breasts, in his memory, as his hand had drifted down his torso on a tempestuous monsoon night.
It was his hand now that lifted to her silky face, her breath sucked in harshly as her stare elevated to meet his. He remembered too little of their first, and only, night. He had come to her after the booze and the buzz. But he recalled her eagerness, her sultry eyes. He had replayed it countlessly in that cot, reproaching himself for letting it go to waste. Away from her, he started to value what he got and what he dissipated mindlessly.
