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including her perfume. “I would like to greet my wife,” he said coldly.
    Melinda winced and stepped back. “Of course.”
    Elizabeth met his gaze with a shuttered expression on her face. But he hadn’t missed the way her jaw had clenched when Melinda had thrown herself into his arms. Good. His wife was possessive of her husband. Some things, at least, were as they should be.
    “Elizabeth,” he said, and climbed the steps. She didn’t shrink from him but met him halfway for a kiss that would have frozen the hot sun of Jamaica.
    They strode into the house and Gerry appeared. The boy, not even born yet when Joshua had left, was the spitting image of Perry when he was a child. A cold hand clutched Joshua’s heart. Perhaps Gerry hadn’t escaped the curse after all.
    “Welcome home, my lord,” Gerry said with a nervous wobble in his voice.
    The anxiety in Gerry’s eyes was familiar to Joshua and he instantly had memories of his own nervousness around strangers his grandmother had forced him to meet. In those times, it was his father’s warmth that Joshua remembered, but Gerry wouldn’t have any such remembrances. Joshua opened his arms and hugged the child. “Thank you, Gerry.”
    The fierceness with which the boy hugged him back startled Joshua, but he didn’t release him. Then the boy abruptly dropped his arms and sprinted up the stairs.
    Joshua stared after him. “What did I do?”
    “Nothing,” Elizabeth said smoothly. “He’s shy.”
    He remembered his own shyness as a boy and he glanced at Elizabeth. Did she remember how that shyness had been conquered by her? Probably not.
    Jaimison bowed over Elizabeth’s hand. “My respects, my lady.”
    “Thank you, Jaimison. Will you stay for dinner?”
    The redheaded man shot a glance at Joshua, who struggled to remain impassive. Jaimison smiled at Elizabeth. “Another time, my lady. His lordship’s homecoming should be a family affair.”
    Elizabeth winced. “Yes, perhaps. Another time, then.”
    Jaimison left an awkward silence behind him. Elizabeth turned and strode toward a small room Joshua remembered as his father’s office. “Will you have a drink before dinner, my lord?”
    My lord? What the hell was the matter with his wife? His gaze narrowed on her face. The wolf chafed beneath the skin. Joshua had learned to allow some of the Beast’s attributes to help him, but not often. It was more difficult to control the thing when he allowed it too much freedom. But at the moment he sharpened his senses, allowing the wolf’s sense of smell and sight to guide him.
    He smelled…anger. Suppressed but there. And something else. He smelled arousal. The Beast growled and beat at the bars Joshua had caged it in. Years of hard work had paid off and Joshua had control of this alter ego of his.
    Without a word he followed her into the small office—stalked her, really, for the Beast had sensed her arousal. Elizabeth was his mate and always had been. He inhaled the scents drifting from her. Yes, anger, rage. If he poked her she’d strike out like a deadly snake.
    “How old is that dress?” he asked her. Nothing goaded a woman like criticizing her clothing.
    “At least three seasons,” she answered calmly, and the anger beneath didn’t stir.
    What? What angered her? “Melinda looked quite fashionable.”
    A jump in the air gave Joshua some information. No, she didn’t like him talking about Melinda. Not like that. But her voice was unchanged when she said, “It’s more important to Melinda to have the latest fashion. She visits London more frequently than I do.”
    “And Perry wasn’t here to greet me.”
    Another jump, bigger but still not the core of what bothered her. She handed him a glass of whisky. “I informed him of your homecoming.”
    When she sat down in one of the armchairs in the room, he sat opposite her and contemplated her. So controlled, so restrained. This was not the girl he’d left ten years ago. Had she sought pleasure outside the