Page 47 of Kiss of Wrath

“Stop shoving.”

“Bite me!”

Larry was scratching his butt, which prompted Ben to walk over and give him a wedgie, which caused Larry to head-butt Ben in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.

Leaning against the door frame, she shrugged with seeming apology for the children’s behavior, as if she were personally responsible, then smiled at him.

Oh no! No smiles. Please, God, no smiles. Her smiles make me feel like . . . they make me feel!

“You did great today,” she said. “The house looks clean. The dinner smells delicious. And the children are somewhat behaving themselves. Thank you.”

“Mrs. Delgado helped.”

“That’s another thing. Mrs. Delgado refuses to do any more than basic cleaning for me. I noticed folded clothes in the laundry, and you mentioned grocery shopping. A miracle!”

“She is a lonely woman since her son died in the war. And bitter, truth to tell. His ex-wife doesn’t let her see her granddaughter very often. That is why she is so quiet and irksome, I suspect.”

“I knew Mrs. Delgado had a son who’d died in Afghanistan. A Marine. But that’s all she’d ever disclosed to me. How did you get her to talk to you?”

Mordr rose from the chair and walked toward her. “Me? I did nothing to encourage talking. I do not talk much myself. Mayhap she recognized a kindred spirit. A shared pain.”

He could tell she wanted to ask more—and since when did he mention his painful past, even in such a general way?—but he was close to her now, and his proximity made her nervous. And, yes, he leaned down to smell her scent. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Like an aphrodisiac, it was, entering his nostrils, streaming through his bloodstream, turning him warm and—

“Are you smelling me?” she accused, although he noticed that she was sniffing, too. She’d mentioned yesterday that he had a particular scent.

He stepped back, reluctantly, and nodded. “I was wondering . . .”

“Wondering what?” she prodded when he didn’t finish his thought.

I was wondering what would happen if I untied that bow and looked at your body. “I was wondering if men stop and gape when you walk down the street.”

“Why would they do that?”

Would your skin be creamy soft with delicious curves? Would your breasts be small with oversensitive nipples, as I suspect? Would your nether hair glimmer in the sunlight like reddish gold fleece? “Because of your scant attire. I know it is not considered scandalous today, but where I come from, women do not expose their legs or arms.”

“What?” She flinched. “Are you a Muslim? That sounds a lot like purdah to me.”

“Have I not said it enough? I am a Viking.”

“Religious fanatic, then?”

“This compelling attraction I have for you has naught to do with religion, believe you me. Unless lust is no longer one of the Seven Deadly Sins.”

“I don’t understand. You condemn me for my attire, then claim you are attracted to me.”

“Of course I am attracted to you. Is that not what I have said?”

“Actually, no.”

“Then, let me say it plain. I like your attire and how you look in it. Too much! I just wonder if I will be able to resist your temptation?”

“This is the craziest conversation I’ve ever had. Temptation? I don’t dress to tempt anyone. Good Lord!”

He thought about warning her not to swear, but decided to save that admonition for later. “Do not be alarmed.”

“Alarmed? You practically accuse me of dressing provocatively to turn men on.”

“Not men. Me. I mean, I am not saying you deliberately entice. Just that I am.”