“Disagreement?” The absurd answer seemed to exasperate her more. “You punched a man half your size.” She paced the limited space.

“It is not my fault if I grew taller than he.” And not his fault if the renegade chose the foppish English manners.

“You have to sort this out, Taran.” Even in anger, his name on her disastrously delicious lips unsettled him.

How to agree with her without looking… malleable? “I will decide about it.” A dogged response.

“Not only this.” Indignant. “Everything!” She crossed her arms over those delectable mounds. “You have been acting strange for a while.”

“No, I have not.” Time for a retreat, for she would corner him soon. “Do not count your ravings as reality.”

“I do not care what you think of it.” She countered hotly. “Strengthen it because I will not be part of this madness.”

He could agree with the madness part. That which she inflicted on him, either present or absent.

Not waiting for an answer, she trudged out of the room and clicked the door shut with a dry sound, leaving him alone with his troubled conscience.

~.~.~

A fuming Aileen stopped in the hall and pulled deep breaths through rage-burning lungs. Her husband wasted a colossal amount of energy to strangle the cause of his outrageous behaviour and tamp it down firmly. The strain on him too visible not to notice. She had not a clue as to the source of it. Which meant she possessed no instruments to address these issues.

No secret for her he was a possessive man, overbearing and peremptory. Which infuriated her at times. And aroused her, blast it! This made him a complex man, full of the contradictions which caused her to admire him and be exasperated to distraction, all rolled in one. Something nagged at him though. He must come clean about it. Whether he would, remained to be seen.

Successful at recomposing herself to a decent degree, she walked to Alistair’s chambers, where she had left him after tending to his superficial wounds. After which, she had taken refuge in her study to let off the steam. Just to see her blasted husband lunge into it five minutes later.

At his call, she slipped in the chambers. An ashamed smile touched her face. “How do you feel?”

Robed, he sat on an armchair beside the bed. “Not bad, considering.” A fable he did not become incensed.

“I can send a footman to help you during the night, if you prefer.” She should do it herself, but she suspected she would not be a good nurse tonight.

He smiled faintly. “No need.” He motioned her to sit by him. “I will depart at dawn. Your husband is not the most sociable of creatures.”

A bubble of laugh nearly escaped her at the comment. An understatement that did not match the troglodyte one bit. “A veritable pity it got so awry.” She took his hands.

“Do not worry about that.” He assured her. “Aunt Bridget will be much more congenial, no doubt.”

They conversed a little longer as she bade him farewell and retired.

~.~.~

Taran spent a long time in his study before he decided it time to go to their chambers.

A fire burned in the hearth, but Aleen was nowhere. Air expelling forcefully through flaring nostrils, he looked around the room. A light shone under the connecting door to the lady’s chambers. His hand reached the door only to find it closed. No. Locked.

Bluidy hell!

It would not be so easy to resort to his smoke-screen tactics this time. Besides stubborn, the woman could be hard on him.

Who would blame her?

He fell on his arctic bed. Without her soft comfort by him the night promised to be long.

Sunrise announced itself when sleep claimed him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Bad nights’ sleep did not make for productive work, Aileen concluded days later, as she watched the first snow fall outside her study window.