Blue eyes flickered. “You needn’t sound so defensive. After all, you’re mistress of the house.”
Maura eyed him. What did he mean by that? Oh, good heavens, she was being ridiculous. Shewasthe mistress of the house.
For the time being, at least.
“Oh, and by the way,” he said, “I stopped by Madame Rousseau’s shop. I was pleased that she had a number of gowns completed. By now they’re surely tucked away in your armoire.”
“I have my stockings, your grace. If you recall, that is all I desired from her shop.”
“How fortunate that I wed a woman such as you. There is no need to be frugal, however. And I should be remiss in my duty as husband if I did not wish to shower my bride with gifts.”
They stood near a brick wall near the herb garden. The scent of mint teased her nostrils.
The scent of man took precedence as Alec took a step closer.
“I’ve just noticed we are quite alone, Irish.”
Ah, she knew she had cause to be suspicious! The gleam in his eyes made her guard go up. Because of a slight slope in the ground, her eyes were almost level with Alec’s. “And so we are,” she said briskly.
“I suggest we give each other a proper welcome, then.”
Maura’s heartbeat skittered.
“Tell me, Irish. Did you miss me?”
She wasn’t quite sure what he was up to. She was at a loss for words. “I…certainly. Certainly I did.”
Alec took a step closer. His gaze fastened on her lips. “Despite your feelings the night before I left?”
“Y-es.”
“Your tone leaves me doubting,” he said huskily. “Convince me.”
Bother, but she couldn’t think with him so close! “What?”
“Convince me you’re happy I’m home.”
“I am happy you’re home.” The words came out stilted. Alarm skittered up Maura’s spine. Less than the width of a hand separated them.
Alec shook his head. “That is hardly the welcome I hoped for. Come, darling, will you leave me in despair? I ask but a kiss.”
Darling?Maura nearly choked. Yet his air was that of a tiger stalking its prey. A very hungry tiger.
Oh, and how she would much rather be the hunter than the prey!
Taking a breath, she leaned forward on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his cheek. She braved no more, for he smelled of soap and sandalwood, and suddenly all she wanted was his mouth on hers, banishing all thought and care. All but the yearning that wound through her whenever he was near—and when he was not!
A lean arm slid around her waist, catching her close. She was forced to steady herself by splaying a hand on his chest.
“That was hardly convincing,” he chided. “What must I do to lure my wife back into my embrace? What must I do to entice her willingly and without question?”
Maura’s breath thinned to a wisp. Moored in her breast was a sea of uncertainty. Something in his air was unsettling.
“Put your arms around my neck, Irish. Kiss me the way you kissed me in Ireland. Cling to me the way you did then.”
She could hardly speak. “You toy with me,” she said, her voice very low.
“Never. Do I not stir you as you stirred me that night in Ireland? What has changed since then, I wonder?” His gaze roved her features.
