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She glares at me when Angelo bows his head. “Of course, Kyrios.” Harper sets down the spade and gets to her feet, grimacing at the dirt covering her shirt and shorts. I’m livid to see her looking like one of the staff. Holding her head up, she meets my gaze.

I grasp her upper arm, pulling her with me. “Harper!” I hiss. “This is inexcusable.”

“Save the tirade for when we’re in private,” she says, jerking away from my hold. Harper holds her head high and marches back to the villa. I’m sure she’s conscious of my presence directly behind her, but she doesn’t look back at me. We enter the house, and I direct her up the stairs toward the master suite.

She holds herself stiffly when we enter the room. The slam of the door makes her jump. “Why are you behaving this way?” she asks. Demands.

“Strip.”

Harper’s eyes widen. “What?”

I rake her with a contemptuous look. “You look like a street person. Wash off the dirt and make yourself presentable.”

Harper shakes her head. “No. I’m tired of taking orders from you, Jayson.” She holds up her hands. “I like dirt under my fingernails. I feel normal when I’m digging in the soil. You have no idea how much I’ve missed it. I was this person when you married me, and I still am. A person who loves plants. Gardening. Living things!”

“You defy me?” I never thought she would do such a thing. “You are my wife. Make yourself look like it before we talk.”

With a toss of her head, Harper turns away. “We’ll discuss this when you’ve calmed down.” She starts toward her room, but gasps when I put a hand on her arm. “Let go.”

Ignoring her protest and attempts to free herself, I lift Harper and carry her into the bathroom. “Put me down.”

“As you wish.” I set her down in the shower before turning on the faucet.

Harper shrieks when cold water cascades over her before it turns warm. “You’re crazy.”

I catch myself in the bathroom mirror, seeing that a vein in my temple is throbbing visibly. “Wash yourself.” My voice drops an octave as my eyes settle on her breasts under the soaked T-shirt. “Unless you want help?”

“Get out.” Harper slams the shower door, watching me through the opaque glass until I finally give up and stalk out of the bathroom, unable to rid myself of the sight of her wet chest and hard nipples in the translucent cotton tee.

Chapter 11

Harper

“Get out.” I slam the shower door, watching him through the opaque glass until he leaves the bathroom. Livid, I get out of the shower, shedding the wet clothes and shoes with some difficulty. Then I return to the stall, soaping with quick efficiency. My heart is racing, and my stomach aches with the effort to keep from screaming. How dare he treat me that way?

I’m clean within minutes, but as time passes, I find myself dawdling. Now that some of the anger has washed away, I no longer want to rush into a confrontation. Why was I so eager to face him again? The first round certainly hadn’t gone in my favor. I’m still fuming at the treatment, but perhaps it would have been wise to give him time to calm down too. He had shown a depth of anger I’ve never seen before. Surely, he’s realized that

by now and is trying to regain control?

Clinging to that hope, I force myself from the shower. I hurry and dry off quickly, instead of drawing out the process. It only hastens the realization that I have nothing to put on. My clothes are soaked and dirty. A quick glance at the door shows no robes on the hooks, indicating Irina has already collected them for washing.

The plush bath sheet isn’t exactly adequate armor in which to face Jayson, but the alternative is even less appealing. No way am I going into the bedroom wearing nothing. The towel is long enough to wrap around me twice, and I tuck the end as securely as I can. After running a comb through my damp hair, I can’t find any remaining reason not to leave the bathroom. Taking a deep breath for fortification, I walk from the room, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

It appears Jayson took advantage of my absence to remove his wet shirt. I swallow thickly at the sight of his bare chest, feeling a stir of something other than offense.

He seems to have regained control. “I owe you a huge apology, Harper. I had no right to treat you that way.”

I acknowledge his apology with a nod. “Thank you.” Then I look up. “Why did you react so strongly? You know my major was botany. It shouldn’t have shocked you so much to find me in the garden.”

Jayson runs a hand through his damp hair, further tangling it. “I suppose I could say the sight of my wife on her knees in the dirt made me angry.”

I nod. “I can see why. You’re used to glamorous women, and I try to live up to that as much as possible.” I shrug. “I just couldn’t resist the allure. I’m sure you don’t understand the attraction, but I have missed it so much.”

Jayson’s expression tightens. “I saw what was so attractive about the garden, Harper.”

I blink. “I don’t understand…” I trail off as she realized what he means. “Angelo?”

“Is he your lover?” Jayson delivers the question in a distant tone, but his body radiates tension.