Page 39 of Kiss of Wrath

Mordr must have done this.

But how did he know of the kids’ differing tastes?

She glanced out the window and saw that the muddy patch had dried nicely. The damage might be minimal. No need to call a landscaper to reseed the backyard.

Then she did a double take as Mordr walked into view, coming from the side of the house. He was out there in his bare feet, wearing nothing but low-riding, slim pants. Taking pictures of her house with a cell phone camera. All the suspicions she’d had about him initially, then put aside, came rushing back.

Walking outside, she confronted him. “What are you doing?”

“Taking pictures of your house,” he said calmly, ignoring or not registering the coldness of her question. He continued clicking away, big as you please, and he was plenty big, walking about the house, taking more pictures of the building and the yards, back, sides, and front. Once she could have sworn he took a picture of her.

She followed after him, trying not to notice the breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist and hips, the tight butt, and long, long legs. And the scars! Oh my God! His body was covered with long-healed scars. How did he get so many wounds? She decided to save that question for later. Instead, she asked, “Why are you taking pictures of my house?”

He stopped walking and addressed her directly, “My brother Cnut is a security expert. The best! Homes, business, governments, everything. I would have him come here to assess your circumstances, but he’s in Russia at the moment. Next best thing is that I describe the situation and send him pictures.”

“Oh,” she said. “Is he your only brother?” Like that was important!

“Pfff! I have six brothers.”

“And sisters?”

He shook his head. “Six brothers are enough, believe you me.”

“I’m an only child,” she said, surprised that she’d revealed something about herself without being asked. Quickly, she backtracked, “I’m always fascinated by the dynamics of a big family.”

“I do not know this dynamics, but you certainly have your own big family now.”

“That I do.” They were headed toward the kitchen door.

“Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to walk about half naked?”

His eyes widened with surprise. “Half naked? I would have you know that I donned braies this morning in order to be ‘appropriate.’ ”

Did that mean that he slept naked? Of course it did. Yikes! “You have to be careful not to be naked around the children.”

He gave her a look of consternation, as if he would ever do such a thing. Then, “Is it acceptable to be naked around you?”

“Of course not.” Is he serious, or teasing me? His expression reveals nothing.

They were back in the kitchen, where he picked up a short-sleeved black shirt hanging on the back of a chair. Putting it on, he left it unbuttoned, leaving exposed a path of light brown hair on his chest that led down in a V toward, well, just downward. Happy trail, for sure. How could a man this virile be celibate?

Stop it, Miranda. No more ogling! No more speculation on his sex life. “What are brays anyhow?”

“Braies are breeches or long pants.”

She nodded. “I’m confused by your language,” she said. “One time you speak modern language, and the next you throw out ancient words, like braies.”

He shrugged. “At heart I am Viking, and Old Norse words seep into my speech, though I know better when I have a chance to think on it.”

That made as much sense as, well, a Viking in Las Vegas. “Thank you for making the children’s lunches. I haven’t been that efficient for a long time.”

He leaned back against the counter and arched a brow in question.

“Lack of efficiency is a natural result of being overworked, overstressed, trying to do too much, having no help for the past few weeks,” she said defensively. “I would be the first to say that I’m spread too thin.”

“That problem should be solved now that I am here.”

She hoped so.