“That is the question, isn’t it?”
“Do you live with any of them?”
Prim shook her head.
“Prevail upon them?”
“Never,” she denied vehemently. “I’ve made a concerted effort to become quite self-sufficient over the past year. I am no burden to my father-in-law or brothers. I ask nothing of them but to let me live my life as I choose. Yet, they hover over me like worried old aunties, when I need nothing of the sort.”
The way her chin notched up, her shoulders straightened, her resolve became a tangible entity. The pride she’d somehow managed to keep hidden from him, perhaps from the world.
For the first time, real physical attraction stirred in James. The gallop of his pulse, the tightening of his groin. Suddenly, she was more than just a puzzle he wanted to solve, an urge prompted by nothing greater than intrigue and ennui. No, now he was set upon a desire to unwrap her like a present. To unfasten the dozens of cloth covered buttons marching up the front of her bodice and savor each one.
Beneath her lace collar, he could see her pulse fluttering like a butterfly’s wing. The air warmed, her lavender scent wafting around him.
James cleared his throat. “Of course, you don’t.”
“Do you mock me, Mr. MacKintosh?” she asked. “This is a new age. An age for women. For our rights.”
“I’m not sure I’m the one you should be saying that to,” he said softly. “Have you said just that to them?”
“Not in so many words,” she admitted, her eyes downcast once more.
“Well, surely you’ve made it clear you’ve no interest in Leachman’s courtship,” he pressed. “I might not have thought you equal to it a week past, but I now know you’re able to stand up for yourself.”
Her cheeks blossomed becomingly, but rather than shrinking within herself as she tended to do, her chin tilted upward with defiance.
“While I may fight for rights of women across the country, I’ve failed to gain any for myself in my own home,” she said softly. Careful not to be overheard, no doubt. Her shoulders sagged again as if the weight of some unseen burden were too heavy to bear for long. “Declan, I believe, worries more for the fortune Fletcher left behind than over me. But my brothers think me helpless. I doubt any of them think I’m adept at buttoning my own shoes. Though I might prove myself again and again, they’ve never altered their beliefs.”
“Possibly it isn’t that they do not believe, but that they don’t want to.”
James knew all too well, having a sister himself, the urge to protect and shelter…and perhaps treat a grown woman as if she were made of glass. But he also knew his sister was made of stronger stuff.
As was Prim. There was far more of her to know still.
“I’d wager you can be a formidable woman, Mrs. Eames.”
She looked up at him, eyes shining with pleasure at his words, and again he was struck by a wave of desire, more ardent than the last.
James shifted, fighting back the arousal stirring in his groin. Bugger it, this was not the time or place for such thoughts. Nor was he entirely certain he wished to be having them at all.
“Are any of your brothers wed?” he asked, forcibly turning his thoughts.
“None of them.”
“I see. Well, that might be part of your problem. Without a spouse or children of their own, who else is left to make them feel like a man, for them to lord over, but you?”
Her head cocked, lips pursed as she considered his words. “Perhaps. Yes, perhaps that might be part of it.”
She was poised, ripe for his kiss. What would she do if he were to kiss her? Or even trace the line of her jaw with a single finger? Slap him silly? Scream in protest?
Enjoy it?
Or was she already enjoying a man’s kiss? His body?
“Who was the other gentleman with you?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
“You mean my brother Shane?” She nodded toward the men.
