“I missed you, Winnie.” He lowered his head. “It seemed like one day we were as close as two peas in a pod and the next you were never at home when I called.”
She stared down at her feet. She had cut him out of her life, and thought she’d had good reason to. But perhaps she’d overreacted. He had made her a proposition; she’d refused. Why couldn’t they have gone on as before?
“I apologize,” she said, meaning it. There had to have been a better way to end a friendship of two years. “Perhaps my decision was too hasty, but I did think it best at the time.”
Donald rested his hand on her shoulder. “I know. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”
“Sin!” Deirdre’s voice sliced into their conversation. “It’s good to have you home.”
Winnifred snapped her head to the door, eager for a glimpse of her husband as he strode past Banquo. He looked unharmed, thank heavens, and absolutely delicious, even though his clothes were dusty from the road and his shoulders were sloped with fatigue.
Until he caught sight of Donald’s hand on her.
Slowly, like a bladder filling with water, Sin expanded until his shoulders seemed to take up the entire doorway.
Her stomach clenched, her excitement ripped away.
Caught standing improperly close to another man. Women had been sent away for less.
Her husband’s nostrils flared. “I see I’ve arrived just in time.”
***
Without taking his gaze off the spot where MacConnell touched his wife, Sin told the footman behind him, “Take Banquo for some water.”
He prowled around the settee, gratified to see the impudent sap skull take two hasty steps back from his wife.
Horatio padded up to him, wagging his tail, and Sin stroked his head, trying to rein in his temper. His arse was sore from the grueling ride back from Glasgow, his back ached, and he was grumpy as hell at the shit all he’d learned about the assassination attempt. If MacConnell gave him one tiny reason to toss his arse through the nearest window, Sin would be calling for the glazier come morning.
“Husband, have you eaten? Can I make you a plate?” Winnifred tangled her fingers in her lace cuff, her pleasant smile wearing a crack.
She’d damn well better remember who her husband was. A fire burned in his stomach. The urge to crush his mouth to hers in front of their visitor, mark her as his, ran strong through his veins. Instead, he stepped up to her, placed his finger under her chin, and placed a soft kiss on her lips.
She didn’t blink, her eyes ever watchful, but accepted the affection with alacrity.
The vise around his chest eased. “I ate on the road.” Yet still his mouth watered for sustenance. It had been too long since he’d tasted his wife. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone. They both needed reminding of their attachment.
“Well, you came just as Donald was taking his leave.” She gnawed on her bottom lip, and Sin’s dislike of the man ratcheted higher. His wife needed to feel secure, and MacConnell’s visit had accomplished anything but.
He swiveled his head and glared at the man. “Then let’s not keep him.”
MacConnell stepped back, knocking his knee into the low table. “Yes. Right.” He nodded at Winnifred and bowed stiffly to his mother. “Be well, Winnie.” He hurried for the door and pulled up short when Horatio flopped down on the threshold in front of him. MacConnell inched around the bottom end of the dog, hopping over his tail and scurrying out the door.
Deirdre pinched her lips together. “You didn’t have to scare the poor lad so.”
Yes, he did. Sin ran his pinkie finger along his wife’s sleeve. “His feelings are not my concern.” He locked gazes with Winnifred. Her breath quickened, her bosom heaving. Sin’s body tightened. Three damn nights without feeling the velvet of her nipple against his tongue. Three nights without feeling her wet heat clench around him. Too many hours without getting another small peak into her soul.
“As me presence as chaperone is no longer required, I’m returning to me garden.” His mother patted her thigh. “Come, Horatio. Let’s see how Banquo fares.”
Sin heard the whisper of her skirts as she left them alone, the clicking of Horatio’s nails fading down the hallway. Until he heard nothing but his wife’s breath, swore he could just hear the hurried beating of her heart.
She clutched her hands together in front of her. “Sin, I want to assure—”
He didn’t need to hear her explanations. It wasn’t in words where she expressed herself best. Taking one step forward, he bent and tossed her over his shoulder, grinning at her muffled shriek.
Chapter Thirteen
His wife hissed in a breath. “I’m so sorry.”
