The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok #3) - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,58
out of sorts, he realized suddenly. She was acting as if that whole encounter had not happened! Also, why was she not jumping at the chance to get this Rose off the scene? he wondered aggrieved. It was an insult to his potent masculinity that she was not jealously guarding her property!
“I find you very remiss this morning, wife,” he said, lathering the soap flakes between his hand and sloshing the water about as he washed his face and neck.
“Remiss?” Una closed the cabinet doors and looked at him inquiringly.
“Aye, for you have not fulfilled your obligations this morn.”
“Which ones?” she asked, clearly puzzled.
He turned to face her, and she straightened up, her face fixed respectfully to his and not his nakedness below. He dabbed a drying cloth at his neck. “You have not kissed me,” he said simply. “Here in the South, it is customary for a wife to greet her husband every day with a kiss.”
“Oh,” she said, taken aback. “I had not realized.”
“You should probably remedy it at once,” he recommended. “Lest I take offense.”
She sent him a level look at that, as though suddenly suspicious he was teasing her, but there wasn’t even a glimmer of amusement in his eye for he was in deadly earnest. Even he was slightly surprised about the fact.
Straightening up, she walked straight over to him, placed her hands over his ears, angled his head, and placed a smacker on his lips. “Good morning, husband,” she said drawing back. Armand had been so startled, he had not much time to do anything other than pucker his lips to meet hers. Her height meant she had only to raise on her toes to bring her face to his and he had not had to stoop at all, meaning he had been unprepared for her kiss.
“One moment,” he said lifting a finger as she beat a hasty retreat. “That is not all.”
Una turned slowly toward him. “What else?” she asked, glancing down at Abelard who was now once more retreating under the dresser.
“If a husband has given a wife pleasure,” he said cocking his head to one side. “Then she must shower him with kisses in recompense.”
She definitely checked at that one, sending him a look eloquent of disbelief. “Every time?”
“Without fail,” he agreed, and crossed over toward the bed, sitting on the edge.
“Shall I wait for you to dress?” she asked, clearing her throat.
“That won’t be necessary.” He lay back on the bed, his arms folded behind his head. He could feel her gaze on him but waited patiently until he heard her feet head toward him. He patted the bed. “Don’t be shy.”
“I’m fully dressed!” Una objected, coming to a halt beside the bed.
“I’m not asking you to get in it.” Not yet anyway.
“Sir Armand—,” she began, her voice betraying some exasperation, and then broke off, realizing her mistake. “I mean—”
“Now, you know what I am going to do every time you make that slip, don’t you, princess?” he said reproachfully. Though in truth, he found he liked calling her princess. In the bedchamber anyway.
“I really wish you would not,” she muttered, as she climbed onto the bed beside him, bracing her hands on either side of his head and then lowering her face to his. When she lightly peppered his brow with soft, chaste kisses, Armand stilled and lay very quiet. She repeated the process over his cheeks and then drew back. “Like that?” she asked, with just a hint of uncertainty.
He huffed out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yes,” he found himself answering, though in truth, he had intended something quite different. “Just like that.”
*
When he made his way downstairs, half an hour later, Armand told himself he had shaken off the strange mood that had overtaken him. Una had asked him to act the role of proprietary husband back at Caer-Lyoness, and this morning he had slipped into the part as though it were perfectly natural to him! He would have to watch his step, or the gods alone knew how he would end up.
He was frowning abstractedly when he came across Otho who was carrying his own saddlebags into the house. “Morning,” he said. “Sorted yourself a room out, have you?”
Otho halted, looking surprised to be hailed by him. “Yes,” he said, then seemed at a loss how to continue.
“We’ll need more staff if we’re to set this place to rights,” Armand said briskly. “You feel up to the job of steward?”