stranger.
Whatever the message she'd been sending, he received it with no difficulty. He rippled with surprise as he calculated her intent.
"I hope to see you again very soon," she boldly declared.
"I hope so, too."
"Are you ever about after supper?" "I'll make it a point to be." "Marvelous."
He nodded, confused but intrigued, and he walked on.
She left, too, heading for the stairs and away from Charles and the confines of her life that were slowly choking her to death.
Chapter Seven
Dammit!" At Jordan's curse, muttered in the adjacent chamber, Margaret jumped. A crash followed as, in a fit of temper, he smashed something against the wall.
She was amazed to hear him storming about. He always seemed so calm and collected, so in control of every word and action. What could have happened to put him in such a dither?
Tiptoeing to the door, she pressed her ear to the wood, listening as he let fly with a string of epithets. When he smashed another object, she couldn't resist spinning the knob and peeking in. Unfortunately, she hadn't paused to remember that he was in the dressing room, complete with hip bath, soaps, and towels. To her dismay—she refused to call it delight—she had stumbled upon him in the same state of undress in which he'd initially found her.
He was attired in a pair of tan breeches that fell to just below the knee. His shirt was missing, as were his shoes and stockings, and she couldn't help but gape.
His back was to her, and as she studied his wide shoulders, his thin waist and hard thighs, he whipped around and barked, "What the hell are you doing home at this hour of the day?"
"The children are busy with summer chores, so there are no classes for a few weeks."
Apparently, she'd interrupted his washing. His hair was damp and swept off his forehead, his skin moist and smooth, and the sight of his naked chest did something funny to her insides. It was broad and manly, covered with a matting of dark hair that was thick on the top, but it tapered to a line in the center, and descended into his pants to destinations she couldn't begin to fathom.
The buttons on his breeches were undone, and she couldn't keep her brazen eyes from drifting down. With ease, she was metamorphosing into a shameless hussy!
Since the occasion when he'd kissed her senseless, she'd been in a fine fettle. Her body was alert and alive, aching in spots she'd never previously noted, and her pleasant demeanor had vanished. She was surly, out-of-sorts, her patience exhausted.
She was desperate to be with him again, and she'd been in a veritable frenzy of anticipation, night after night, expecting that he'd relent and join her, but he hadn't, and his disinterest was driving her crazy.
"What do you want?" he snarled.
"With all the noise in here, I was merely checking to see if you're all right."
"I'm so bloody dandy, I could strangle somebody!"
"Well.. . good. I'll just be going."
He resembled a wild animal that was ready to attack, so she retreated, eager to escape before he pounced.
She took a step, then another, and she'd made it through the door when he lunged after her, approaching until they were toe-to-toe. He towered over her, trying to intimidate her with his size, with his temper, but she wasn't frightened.
His anger was blatant and exciting, and she reveled in it. She was thrilled to have him so near, to have all his concentration focused on her, and it occurred to her that she might do anything to keep it.
"Why are you poking your nose into my affairs?" he demanded.
"I told you: I was checking on you."
"I don't need you hovering."
"So, go away. Did I ask you to follow me in here?"
He gripped her waist. "Don't you know how dangerous it is to taunt me when I'm in such a foul mood?"
"Me? Taunt you? I was minding my own business, in my own bedchamber, till you started rampaging like a monster."
"A monster? Yes, that's exactly how I feel."
He picked her up and twirled them so that they fell
Whatever the message she'd been sending, he received it with no difficulty. He rippled with surprise as he calculated her intent.
"I hope to see you again very soon," she boldly declared.
"I hope so, too."
"Are you ever about after supper?" "I'll make it a point to be." "Marvelous."
He nodded, confused but intrigued, and he walked on.
She left, too, heading for the stairs and away from Charles and the confines of her life that were slowly choking her to death.
Chapter Seven
Dammit!" At Jordan's curse, muttered in the adjacent chamber, Margaret jumped. A crash followed as, in a fit of temper, he smashed something against the wall.
She was amazed to hear him storming about. He always seemed so calm and collected, so in control of every word and action. What could have happened to put him in such a dither?
Tiptoeing to the door, she pressed her ear to the wood, listening as he let fly with a string of epithets. When he smashed another object, she couldn't resist spinning the knob and peeking in. Unfortunately, she hadn't paused to remember that he was in the dressing room, complete with hip bath, soaps, and towels. To her dismay—she refused to call it delight—she had stumbled upon him in the same state of undress in which he'd initially found her.
He was attired in a pair of tan breeches that fell to just below the knee. His shirt was missing, as were his shoes and stockings, and she couldn't help but gape.
His back was to her, and as she studied his wide shoulders, his thin waist and hard thighs, he whipped around and barked, "What the hell are you doing home at this hour of the day?"
"The children are busy with summer chores, so there are no classes for a few weeks."
Apparently, she'd interrupted his washing. His hair was damp and swept off his forehead, his skin moist and smooth, and the sight of his naked chest did something funny to her insides. It was broad and manly, covered with a matting of dark hair that was thick on the top, but it tapered to a line in the center, and descended into his pants to destinations she couldn't begin to fathom.
The buttons on his breeches were undone, and she couldn't keep her brazen eyes from drifting down. With ease, she was metamorphosing into a shameless hussy!
Since the occasion when he'd kissed her senseless, she'd been in a fine fettle. Her body was alert and alive, aching in spots she'd never previously noted, and her pleasant demeanor had vanished. She was surly, out-of-sorts, her patience exhausted.
She was desperate to be with him again, and she'd been in a veritable frenzy of anticipation, night after night, expecting that he'd relent and join her, but he hadn't, and his disinterest was driving her crazy.
"What do you want?" he snarled.
"With all the noise in here, I was merely checking to see if you're all right."
"I'm so bloody dandy, I could strangle somebody!"
"Well.. . good. I'll just be going."
He resembled a wild animal that was ready to attack, so she retreated, eager to escape before he pounced.
She took a step, then another, and she'd made it through the door when he lunged after her, approaching until they were toe-to-toe. He towered over her, trying to intimidate her with his size, with his temper, but she wasn't frightened.
His anger was blatant and exciting, and she reveled in it. She was thrilled to have him so near, to have all his concentration focused on her, and it occurred to her that she might do anything to keep it.
"Why are you poking your nose into my affairs?" he demanded.
"I told you: I was checking on you."
"I don't need you hovering."
"So, go away. Did I ask you to follow me in here?"
He gripped her waist. "Don't you know how dangerous it is to taunt me when I'm in such a foul mood?"
"Me? Taunt you? I was minding my own business, in my own bedchamber, till you started rampaging like a monster."
"A monster? Yes, that's exactly how I feel."
He picked her up and twirled them so that they fell
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