“What do you mean, no?” Mina asked, drawing herself up to her tallest and squaring off with him. For a moment, his eyes gleamed again. Mina narrowed her eyes. If he laughed in her face, she would be furious.
“You’re not skivvying anymore,” he said loudly. “You’ve a parlor to sit in. Go sit in it.”
“I can’t sit in the parlor all day, Nye!” she snapped.
“Why not? You’re a lady, aren’t you?”
“No, I am not!” she answered shrilly. “I was a schoolteacher and now I am—”
“My wife!” Nye interrupted her; his voice raised to a shout. “And as my wife, I get to dictate what you get up to madam, and what you do not!”
Mina glared at him, her chest rising and falling. “I understand that you don’t want me staring out at the courtyard in the early hours of the morning and why!” she added in a low voice that shook with anger. “But if you imagine that you can dictate—”
Suddenly his hand shot out to capture her elbow and spin her about, so her back faced him. Her apron was jerkily untied and then stripped from her shoulders, even as she wriggled to prevent him. “Nye!” she gasped as he snatched the bucket from her grasp and set it on the table.
“Take that thing off your head!” he ordered. Reluctantly, Mina reached up but was apparently too slow as Nye whipped the cap off before her and slung it down on a chair.
“You’re abominably rude!” she raged at him as he dragged her out into the hallway. “Sometimes I feel as though I could hate you!”
“Yes, so you’ve said.”
That brought her up short. “When did I—?”
“On the beach,” he said tersely.
Mina’s face flamed red. “I was very distressed that day—” she began defensively, then noticed he was towing her toward the staircase instead of the parlor. “Wait! Where—?” He did not speak, just propelled her bodily up the first flight of stairs. “Nye!” she panted, trying to free her wrists, but it did no good. He barely even seemed to notice her struggles.
By the time they reached the second flight, he was behind her, his much bigger body shoving her forward. Whenever she tried to turn or even halt their progress, she slammed back against his muscular thighs and was compelled to move again. Her face was red with exertion and anger. “Do you mean to lock me in my bedroom, like a recalcitrant child?” she asked furiously. They had reached the attic rooms now and Nye flung the door open and jostled her bodily inside.
“No,” he said, with a short laugh. “That is not my intent.” He slammed the door shut behind them and Mina fell back a step. She had not expected him to accompany her inside and was aware her expression showed as much. “Well, what now?” she snapped, hiding her uncertainty behind a show of belligerence, and plunking her hands on her hips.
Nye leaned back against the door. “Now I show you just what your extra wifely duties involve,” he said mockingly. “Take your clothes off, Mina.”
She blinked at him a moment, speechlessly. “It’s the middle of the afternoon!” she pointed out, flinging an arm toward the window.
“And?”
“You can’t just march me upstairs—”
“I just did, Mina,” he pointed out. “And stop stalling. You’re no coward.” His voice was warm when he said this, bringing her up short. But if his voice was warm, then the gaze that flickered over her was absolutely scorching. It made her catch her breath. “Though,” he added, cocking his head to one side. “You may be the biggest prude in all Penarth.”
Her chin came up at this. “I am not a prude!”
“No?” He unbuttoned his waistcoat. “Then prove me wrong.” He shrugged it off. “Need some help?”
Mina huffed and reached back for the pearl buttons at the back of her neck. By the time she’d unbuttoned down to her waist, her ire was spent, and she was wishing she hadn’t let him call her bluff like this. She was a prude. What on earth had possessed her to claim she wasn’t?
Her insides turned to jelly and glancing fearfully at Nye, she found him clad only in a pair of clinging white flannel underpants that extended down to his knees. Her eyes bugged out. She had seen his bare chest before, she told herself sternly. There was simply no need for it to draw her eye like this. Had it really had that scattering of dark hair last time, though?
Nye tossed the last of his clothing onto a chair and then sauntered over to her. “How does this work?” he muttered.
“You had better leave it to me,” she said, batting away his hands.
“You’re too slow,” he scolded, spinning her around and making quick work of the remaining buttons.
“You’ll have to lift the dress over my head,” Mina said hurriedly, feeling him give her skirts a tug. “It’ll never go over my stiffened petticoats.”
“How the hell do you get in and out of this get-up every day by yourself?” Nye muttered as he changed direction and dragged her black gown up instead.
“Needs must,” Mina answered, lifting her arms obligingly. “Wait,” she puffed. “There’s buttons at my wrists.” Nye’s hand shot out to capture her wrist. She saw him roll his eyes at the long row of buttons, however, due to much washing and re-wearing she knew they weren’t stiff. Sure enough, he made quick work of one arm, then the other. “I could do it,” she muttered and saw his eyebrows lift, though he made no reply.
“Arms up again,” he ordered. Mina complied and the black fabric was dragged over her head and discarded. Nye paused a moment, looking over her prim underwear. Suddenly, Mina felt a touch of uncertainty creep in. The dyed black gowns tended to cast an
