“Yes, yes!” She was the impatient one.
“And whatever I chose, you will wear as well. I have your promise?”
“Yes! I promise!”
He handed her the box. Maura ripped off the ribbon, held the stockings to her chest and crowed, “I cannot believe it. My very first pair of silk stockings! My very own!” In the midst of her dancing up and down, he caught her elbow and wheeled her around. He pointed to the door.
Aggie and half a dozen other maids filed in, each carrying several round boxes, which they stacked near the armoire. When they withdrew, Alec nodded to Maura.
She fell to her knees and tore off lid after lid from box after box. His shoulder propped against the door, Alec looked on. By the time she was done, clutched to her chest and scattered all around, were dozens of sheer, silk stockings. Maura was laughing helplessly.
She looked up at Alec. “Oh, my word, you bought every last pair in the shop, didn’t you?”
“I believe Madame said something to that effect, yes.”
Alec looked on thoughtfully. Had she asked for everything, he would have purchased little or nothing. But all she wanted was that one simple thing, and that nearly pried from her! Now, he wished he’d bought nearly every last item in every last shop on the street.
For God help him, it was bloody well worth it to see her light up like this.
Tears of laughter streamed down her cheeks when he tugged her up to her feet. She threw her arms around his neck. “Alec McBride, you are quite mad!”
Caught up in some strange awakening deep in his gut, he sucked in a breath. He handed her his handkerchief to wipe away her tears. He’d never seen such joy for something that, to him, was so trifling.
Her reluctance had gained her far more than greed or insistence. She claimed it wasn’t money or his title that she hoped to gain. Had her being caught in his bed indeed been an accident? If only he could be sure.
All he knew was that he wouldn’t have traded anything in the world to miss the glow on her face in that moment. The light shining from her beautiful green eyes was simply beyond price.
Throughout dinner, every so often Maura allowed her slipper to dangle from her toes, angled her leg out from beneath her chair, bunched up her skirt ever so slightly to admire her stockings.
Over tea, Alec glanced at her. “Irish, are you doing what I think you are?”
“I am doing nothing, sir,” she said primly.
He set his cup on the saucer, neatly folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate. The next time she angled her leg out he reached beneath the table and caught the back of her calf.
“So you like your new stockings, do you?”
“I do indeed.”
He ran his fingers up behind her knee and gave a full, throaty laugh. “Well, so do I, Irish. So do I.” His hand was roving now, almost to her silk ribbon garters. Maura’s eyes went huge.
The evening passed far more quickly than she’d anticipated. After the last dish was removed, Alec pushed his chair back. Maura started to do the same. His voice stopped her.
“Wait,” he said softly. “Your hands. Let me see them.”
She glanced at him, surprised when he turned to face her. “What?” Her hands ducked instinctively beneath the table, into her lap.
He shook his head, his scrutiny suddenly piercingly intent. “Your hands, if you please, Irish.”
Maura’s heart was suddenly pounding. She shifted so she faced him, then started to lift them from her lap. Lean fingers caught at hers. Turning her palms up, he cradled her hands within his.
“Your hands are scarcely larger than a child’s,” he murmured.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Alec’s hands, lean and strong, far eclipsed her own.
His expression was shielded from her. He stared so long and so hard she instinctively started to withdraw. As soon as he felt it, his fingers banded her wrists.
All at once she quivered, both inside and out.
