A distant stranger.
“Your Grace,” she purred, drawing close, “I would like to be clear about our marriage.” Those lips of his constricted yet more, and her heart stuttered. “You said we would deal well together but it seems we do not deal at all.”
“You are free to do as you please,” he replied, turning his back to place the book on the table. “In fact, you probably already have.”
Aideen narrowed her eyes. He was baiting her, and she would usually bite without hesitation, but for once, she tamped down her ire. “Why don’t you dine with me? Or talk to me? Do you dislike me so very much?”
His head snapped around. “I do not dislike you, Aideen. But I never wanted to be married. No to you or anyone.”
“And yet you proposed.” He didn’t twitch a muscle as she circled him, gown grazing his breeches. “I’ve no doubt you could have bundled me off somewhere if you’d so wished.” Aideen leaned up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “So why did you propose, Alexander?”
He swallowed, although no brandy had passed his lips.
“The begetting of an heir,” he finally answered. “So, it didn’t matter who. You were convenient.”
His answer caused a clench in her chest, but something wasn’t quite right. “Well,” she replied, “locking our adjoining door tends to prevent any begetting.”
A mocking smirk covered his lips. “I have an aversion to faithless women.”
Ah, so the Miltons’ masquerade was the bone of contention. She smiled, widening her eyes in innocence. “Jack says you trust him, so it cannot be he that you so grossly accuse.” She put a finger to her lips. “Lord MacDougall, I have only met tonight.” She leaned close, smelled leather and Alexander. “That only leaves…fycariad aur.”
His posture could not have become more rigid, and she raised his hand to her lips. The faint claw graze adorned his knuckles still and she brushed it with her mouth. “If you play with cats, Your Grace, you must expect to be scratched.”
“You recognised it was I, yet never said a word?” he growled.
All her anger came flooding forth in one massive gush. “Do you think me so stupid, so fickle, so damn daft not to know my own husband as soon as he opens his bog mouth?” She flung her arms about with a derisive snort. “Pretending to be a Welsh lover. Of all the ridiculous–”
“I told you not to go and you disobeyed. Did you enjoy provoking me, Aideen?” The cords of his throat strained, eyes dark. “Did you think to toy with me like a mouse? Well, I’m afraid I am not that type of man.”
He yanked her into his arms, lips slanting upon hers, crushing, and she wondered how she’d so lost control of the conversation.Shewas the one supposed to be irate for his deception but instead an intense rage seemed to have erupted within him.
But despite his mood, she also sensed a desperation as his hands roved her buttocks, dragging her close as though he would never release her. She responded. How could she not? But as an equal, pulling his hair and clashing their mouths together.
This passion they shared wasn’t reticent or gentle but powerful. Ferocious.
Distantly, she heard a clock strike the midnight hour and with a sudden groan, he tore away.
“I can’t…” he whispered, turning on his heel and before she could utter another word, he’d gone.
Humming to herself, Cordelia Greenwood, now slightly blunted diamond but thoroughly pleased with herself debutante, wandered down the mirrored hallway, admiring the many pretty reflections of her peony red dress in the candlelight.
A man blocked her path – or lots of men, depending on one’s view.
Not again.
But this time, she felt more confident, buoyed by her success this evening. “I wish to pass, Lord Oakdean.”
Lazily, he folded his arms and leaned against the wall of mirror. “What did your mother say about that dress, Miss Greenwood?”
She glared with her best Aideen glare. “I am old enough to choose my own clothes.” And she caressed a hand down the lovely silk.
Lord Oakdean’s eyes slitted, following the movement. His nonchalant posture unfolded, and he strolled towards her. “Are you?”
“Yes.” No stutter, and of that she was proud.
“So, you know what a dress like that does to a man, do you?”
“Indeed. It causes them to bring you champagne and ply you with compliments,” she replied honestly.
