Page 33 of The Devil's Pawn

Six… but only five of us left.

My lungs flatten at mention of my mother and the reference to Annabel. An apology I’ve made many times over spills from me. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

He puts his hand on my forearm. “No. Stop.”

His fervent support should make it easier for me to forgive myself, but instead, it makes it harder. He says he doesn’t blame me for what happened, but I can’t bring myself to fully believe him. I’ve never doubted his love, but I do doubt his forgiveness, no matter how many times he repeats it.

“I trusted my father when he chose your mother as my bride,” he says, returning to the subject of my recent nuptials. “All I’m asking is for you to have that same trust in me.” His gaze drifts to Imogen, now deep in conversation with Saskia, who, while I’ve been chatting to Dad, has swapped seats with Christian. “She’ll make a fine addition to this family.”

Saskia is someone I’ll have to watch. She’s a social butterfly, like Imogen. Same with Tobias, and after how close he and Imogen were at the wedding, I don’t need him nor my sister to befriend my wife and ruin my plans. I make a mental note to send both Saskia and Tobias on araft of business trips overseas. That should solve the problem.

“Maybe tell her that,” I say.

Dad pats my hand. “She’ll come around. Try getting to know her. You’ll be amazed at how far a little understanding goes.”

Understanding? Of Imogen’s motivations? Good luck to me.

During the entire dinner, Imogen and I don’t exchange a single word. She focuses all her attention on Saskia and the other members of my family closest to her. She even chats away with Elizabeth as if she’s known her for a while, coaxing more than a sentence or two from Nicholas’s reserved fiancée.

This is not good. Not good at all.

By the time coffee is served at the end of the meal, my usual icy demeanor is aflame. She’s making friends, which I can’t allow, winning over my family and soon-to-be sister-in-law, not to mention embarrassing me. Everyone here must have noticed how I’m the only one she hasn’t spoken to.

I rise from the table. “Dad, please excuse my wife and me. We have some things to discuss.”

A knowing smile followed by a nod tells me what Dad thinks I’m doing.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Imogen looks at me for the first time since she sat at the dinner table ninety minutes ago. “We do?”

Barely holding on to my temper, I grind out, “Yes, we do.”

I wait for her to push back her chair, and once she’s free of the table, I take hold of her elbow and propel her into the hallway. As soon as we’re clear and out of sight, she tries toshake me off. I tighten my grip and march on, putting as much distance between us and the family gathering as I can.

“Let me go. What is wrong with you?”

I shove her inside the formal drawing room where my father entertains his business associates and round on her. “Howdareyou embarrass me in front of my family.”

Her eyes widen, and her brows shoot up her forehead. “Embarrass you? What the hell are you talking about? I thought it went well. I made the effort to talk to everyone. To include everyone.”

And that’s a major spoke in my plans, but I can’t let her know that. Better to focus on her disrespect.

“Oh, you did. You spoke toeveryone.Everyone except me. You’re mywife.I demand respect.”

She looks a little taken aback at my statement, and then she… she… throws back her head and laughs. Loudly.

“Oh, dear.” Sticking out her bottom lip in a pout, she adds, “Were you feeling left out? Poor baby. Want to be the center of attention or you throw a hissy fit?” She casts her arms out to the side. “Rant away. Doesn’t matter to me. Oh, and while we’re at it, let’s not forget that I’m your wife in name only. And for the record, respect is earned, not demanded.”

My typically restrained temper flares up. I move until I’m breathing the same air she’s breathing. Planting my feet wide, I slide one arm behind her knees, the other around her back, and, dropping my left shoulder, I toss her over it.

A high-pitched squeal erupts from her, and she pummels my lower back. “Put me down!”

I smack her hard on her left butt cheek. She cries out, so I smack the other cheek even harder.

“Ow! That hurt. How dare you spank me!”

“This is what you get for being a brat.”

---