Honor Bound(42)

She made periodic visits to check on things. Beyond that, her primary responsibility was to care for and love Tony. That was no chore at all. He was only a month old, yet he was such a vital part of her life that she couldn't imagine not having him.

Only one thing could have made her happier—that her parents would leave her alone. Resigned to the fact that their daughter had an illegitimate baby, they had turned their energies toward finding her a husband who would accept her and the child. Marriage to a respectable man would remove the blight on the family name.

Aislinn wasn't fooled by the tolerance of these prospective husbands, who were introduced to her under the most embarrassingly contrived circumstances. They overlooked Tony's illegitimacy and her indiscretion with amazing benevolence. However, she knew that each was keeping in mind her father's bank account and depending on his generosity. They expected recompense for their charitable attitude toward a wayward girl.

But stubborn as they were in wanting to dictate her future, her parents would be easier to dissuade than Lucas Greywolf Of that Aislinn was certain.

When the doorbell rang for a second time shortly before noon, she knew who it was. For a moment, she clasped her hands together, squeezed her eyes closed, and drew a deep breath. The bell rang again and she didn't imagine the impatience behind that imperious ring. She moved toward the door with leaden footsteps.

Suddenly she wished she hadn't surrendered to vanity and dressed in "civilian" clothes. She had been wearing maternity clothes, giving her body time to slim down. Today, she had tried on last summer's skirt and found to her delight that it would go around her waist.

The full, calf-length skirt had always been one of her favorites. The soft blue fabric brushed against her legs when she walked. With it she had put on a white blouse with a white-on-white embroidered yoke. It buttoned down the front to facilitate nursing Tony. She had washed her hair in the shower and left it to dry in its natural waves. Now the sides were looped behind her ears, into which she had secured small gold rings.

Maybe applying makeup had been going too far. And fragrance. Why had she put on perfume today when she hadn't worn any for months? But it was too late to do anything about it now, because the doorbell was ringing for a third time.

She pulled open the door. She and Greywolf stared across the threshold at each other. Both wanted to feel antagonism. Instead each was experiencing a pleasurable jolt at the other's appearance.

Aislinn was never quite prepared for those light-gray eyes set in that dark, lean face. His shirt was different. Otherwise he was dressed the same as the day before, in jeans, which rode low on his narrow hips, and boots, which had seen better days. The silver cross lay against his chest in the open V of his shirt. The earring in his ear seemed to punctuate the pronounced intersection of his cheekbone and jaw.

Moving aside, she let him come in and closed the door behind him. Lucas looked down upon the crown of her head, then let his glance slide down her slender neck to her breasts. He could see the swelling mounds beneath her neckline.

His gut twisted with desire, remembering the shape of her breasts and the color of her nipples bedewed with milk. He shouldn't have looked at her yesterday. Then he wouldn't know what a lovely sight she was when nursing his baby, and he wouldn't be remembering it now. But he had had to look, or die.

Her breasts were noticeably fuller than they had been ten months ago. That only made the rest of her figure appear trimmer. Her feet looked incredibly childlike in the barefoot sandals.

He cleared his throat of congestion. "Where's Tony?"

"Asleep in his room."

With an economy of movement and an absence of sound, he turned and went toward the nursery. Aislinn marveled over how agilely and silently he could move.

By the time she had followed him into the nursery he was bending low over Tony's crib. The tenderness with which he gazed at his sleeping son coaxed an emotion from her that she didn't want to acknowledge. To deny it, she asked him, "Did you think I was lying? Did you have to see for yourself that he was still here? Did you think I had hidden him from you?"

With that same animal-like grace, he turned around to face her. "You wouldn't dare."

For several beats, their eyes held. He glanced back at the child once more before crossing the room, taking her by the arm, and leading her back into the hallway.

"Get me something to drink," he said.

She started to snap something sarcastic like, "This isn't a tavern, you know." But she decided that sitting in the kitchen with the table between them was better than sharing the living-room sofa.

"All right. If you'll let go of me," she answered, working her arm out of his grasp. She didn't want to know the warm, strong pressure of his fingers, which seeped through the cloth of her sleeve. His touch evoked too many memories she had spent months eradicating from her mind. She wanted to yell at him to keep his hands off her, but she didn't want to provoke his temper unnecessarily. Now wasn't the time to gamble with his moods, not when she must appeal to his reason.

"None of Tony's things are packed," he observed, sitting down in the same chair as the day before.

"What would you like? Juice or a soft drink?"

"A soft drink." She took one out of the refrigerator and went through the same ritual as yesterday, finally handing the icy glass to him.

"None of Tony's things are packed," he repeated before taking a single sip of the drink.