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I sigh again. She is infuriating. “Right now, agape mou, all I know is I will not sleep well tonight from frustration.”
She smiles tentatively. “I know the feeling.”
Watching the door to the nursery close behind Harper, it takes every ounce of willpower not to follow her and finish what we started. My body aches for her, and I know she feels the same. Harper admitted I could change her mind.
It’s tempting.
I curse myself, hating the fact I respect her decision, though it’s the right thing to do. I don’t believe sex, fucking, lovemaking, whatever you want to call it, would complicate things. After all I do want to keep her as my wife. But it’s right to honor her choice.
And I’ll do so.
For now, and reluctantly.
Maybe I’ll give her a few more days to sort out her confusion and realize she’s denying both of us for no real rea
son.
Harper will find it pretty difficult to deny herself, and me, when I make this my top priority.
* * *
Walking through the garden I hear someone, probably the landscaper, midway through telling a story involving his youngest brother and the family goat. I wonder who he’s talking to — I thought he was working alone?
When I come upon him, I see he’s talking to Harper.
Angelo falls silent for a moment before saying, “Kalimera, Kyrios Satyros.”
“Good afternoon,” I say coldly, and Angelo flinches.
Harper flinches as well when I turn my gaze on her. What the hell is she doing in the garden, filthy dirty, with the gardener? She swallows audibly. “Did you need something, Jayson?” She’s clearly trying to sound casual, but the tremble in her voice lets me know she’s anything but calm.
“I need my wife. I’ve been looking for you for the past two hours.” I curl my lip with contempt. “I should have known I would find you playing in the dirt.”
Her voice comes back with its usual disinterested tone. “Yes. Perhaps you should have. What do you want, Jayson?”
My eyes narrow. “You know the answer to that, agape mou.” Just a few days ago, the phrase was sweet nothings, as I fingered her. Now it sounds more like a threat than an endearment. “For starters, I would like my wife to behave with dignity. We have servants for these tasks.”
She glares at me when Angelo bows his head. “Of course, Kyrios.” Harper sets down the spade and gets to her feet, grimacing at the dirt covering her shirt and shorts. I’m livid to see her looking like one of the staff. Holding her head up, she meets my gaze.
I grasp her upper arm, pulling her with me. “Harper!” I hiss. “This is inexcusable.”
“Save the tirade for when we’re in private,” she says, jerking away from my hold. Harper holds her head high and marches back to the villa. I’m sure she’s conscious of my presence directly behind her, but she doesn’t look back at me. We enter the house, and I direct her up the stairs toward the master suite.
She holds herself stiffly when we enter the room. The slam of the door makes her jump. “Why are you behaving this way?” she asks. Demands.
“Strip.”
Harper’s eyes widen. “What?”
I rake her with a contemptuous look. “You look like a street person. Wash off the dirt and make yourself presentable.”
Harper shakes her head. “No. I’m tired of taking orders from you, Jayson.” She holds up her hands. “I like dirt under my fingernails. I feel normal when I’m digging in the soil. You have no idea how much I’ve missed it. I was this person when you married me, and I still am. A person who loves plants. Gardening. Living things!”
“You defy me?” I never thought she would do such a thing. “You are my wife. Make yourself look like it before we talk.”
With a toss of her head, Harper turns away. “We’ll discuss this when you’ve calmed down.” She starts toward her room, but gasps when I put a hand on her arm. “Let go.”
Ignoring her protest and attempts to free herself, I lift Harper and carry her into the bathroom. “Put me down.”
