Ire flashed in her eyes. So, she didn’t like that appellation; he must use it more often.
“Why are you English obsessed with leprechauns? And I’m not little.”
“Compared to me you are. Little and delicate.” And fragile. So breakable. So precious.
She stalked over, and he forced his lips to steel, limbs motionless, even his eyelashes stilled.
What if his life was different? What if she’d come to simply talk about the day? He’d tug her to his lap and hold her tight. Share an apple.
But no temptation was worth a life.
“I wish to attend a ball and dance.”
“Go shopping instead.”
“I have already been shopping.”
Yes, Plunkett had mentioned that – to his account book’s detriment. “The theatre then,” he said in his best dismissive tone.
“Who with? We have been married five days and didn’t even have a honeymoon. It would seem a little odd if I attended events on my own. They’ll say…”
Yes, he knew. They’d say the duke was bored already. That they would live their lives like half the tondid. That his marriage was no more than a forced farce to a nobody. “And would they be wrong?”
A gasp escaped her whilst guilt and self-hatred gathered low in his belly.
He very nearly stood, very nearly pulled her to him, but he forced his mind to Gwen, her green eyes shocked in death. He imagined Aideen, all fire extinguished in the quick draw of a cold blade.
“Ask Winterbourne to attend you,” he drawled, closing his eyes to the torment within. “You enjoy his company and I keep tripping over the bloody man wending his way here to pant at your feet.”
“May the devil make a ladder from your spine,” she snarled, and he inwardly smiled. He adored her curses and hadn’t heard one for a while. All felt tranquil as she hissed her anger – his little hellcat would never cower beneath his snubs.
Oh, how he needed…
He shook his head. “Indeed,” he continued, “why not assign him the green bedchamber since he’s here so often.”
Aideen leaned over the desk, and he waited for the adroit retort but it seemed she had decided on a differing tactic.
Fingers brushed his jaw where it had been itching earlier, and he willed the hairs on his arms not to rise.
She licked her lips and he hooded his eyes to prevent her from seeing his reaction. It couldn’t have been successful as she did it again.
“I think, Alexander,” she purred, twiddling another ringlet, “I’ll assign him the master suite, for all the time you spend in it.” The hand removed itself from his jaw and she plonked an apple on his desk. “After all, it’s easy to rob an orchard when no one’s guarding the apples.”
She sashayed from the room, still clutching the bowl of fruit, and slammed the door behind her.
He glared at the solitary apple. It was mouldy and had holes in it.
Eve had gotten her revenge on mankind.
Chapter Thirteen
Everybody wants to be a cat…
The tail was coming along nicely but the whiskers were proving rather difficult. Thank heavens for Cordelia and her sewing prowess.
“I wish I was to attend such a glittering occasion,” her friend said wistfully, and Aideen patted the slumped lacy-white shoulder, getting her fingers caught in a ribbon of seed pearls.
Blithely taking no notice of Rakecombe’s contrary edict concerning the Milton masquerade, she had requested that Lord Winterbourne escort her.
