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He stood next to her now. And waited.

“You appeared more relaxed than normal. Which I thought was odd given the circumstances.”

He raised his brows. “And which circumstances would those be?”

Graeme would not touch her. Not until she requested it. Even though he wanted nothing more than to slip her gown off and continue to explore every—

“Was that a knock?” he asked, certain he’d heard a sound coming from the wardrobe room.

“Oh, aye. I nearly forgot to tell you—”

But he had already crossed the room and was pulling the door open.

“Oh!” A young maidservant he didn’t recognize stumbled into the chamber.

“Who are you?” he demanded. Gillian pulled on his arm, jolting his attention to her.

“I was just trying to tell you. This is Morgan. She arrived from Lyndwood after you left, and—”

“Ah, yes.” He remembered being told her men had arrived with Gillian’s belongings and her lady’s maid. They had apparently stayed the night and returned to Lyndwood in the morning. A pity, he’d have liked to speak to them ahead of his own visit there.

“I thought I heard your voice, my lady. My apologies for—”

“’Tis nothing, Morgan. You may—”

“Return to the lady’s chamber,” Graeme finished.

Morgan looked from him to her lady. “But surely you need my assistance?”

“She does not,” Graeme said firmly. If he could not remove his own wife’s clothing, then he was a poor husband indeed.

Gillian made a face at him and then gave her attention to the maid. “You may return to the lady’s chamber. It appears your assistance is not needed tonight. But thank you, Morgan.”

The maid bobbed a courtesy, muttered, “My lord,” and left.

Gillian crossed her arms over her chest, which only brought more attention to her ample breasts. “You scared her.”

“Scared? I’ve done no such thing.”

She did not appear convinced.

“I simply informed her—”

“In a tone well-suited to a battlefield. As you towered above the poor woman.”

“Towered? Would you have me kneel before her?”

To illustrate, he lowered himself to one knee.

“Happily met, Mistress Morgan,” he said, looking up at his wife as if she were the maid.

“It is indeed a pleasure to—”

“Stop,” she said, laughing and trying to pull him up. “’Tis absurd.”

When she reached for him, Graeme took advantage and pulled her onto his lap.

“The only absurd thing here . . .” He moved her dark hair to the side to give himself better access to her neck, “is that I find myself alone with my beautiful wife, and she’s not yet unclothed.”