I knew the moment I stepped into the front hall that something was amiss. The sound of raised voices carried from the entrance—one unmistakably my husband's deep baritone, the other a woman's cultured tones edged with frustration. Lady Rowena Thorne had arrived, unannounced and clearly unwelcome.
"Mother, what are you doing here?" Alaric demanded, his body blocking the doorway as if to physically prevent her entry.
I paused at the corridor junction, my rounded belly preceding me as I observed the standoff between mother and son. Despite their reconciliation of sorts, old tensions clearly hadn't disappeared entirely.
"Must I have a reason to visit my own son?" Lady Rowena responded, her chin lifted in that imperious way that reminded me so much of Alaric when he was being stubborn. "Step aside, Alaric. This behavior is beneath you."
Alaric crossed his arms. "I recall no invitation being extended."
"I don't require one. I am your mother."
