Page 76 of His Perfect Bride
“I’ll get two rooms for tonight.” He started toward the front door of the hotel.
“No.” Her protest came out quickly and emphatically. “I want to stay with you.”
His muscles tensed.
“You can hold me like you did that night at Centreville.”
“I had the strength of a saint that night,” he growled. “Don’t expect another miracle.”
Her lips curved into a smile.
He swung open the hotel door.
“My dear husband”—she loved the way the wordhusbandrolled off her tongue—“are you telling me that you can’t resist me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, my dear wife.” He smiled down at her, and the sight of the smile, like always, took her breath away.
She couldn’t help herself. She tugged his head down and at the same time rose into a kiss. She barely had time to brush his lips, when he jerked back and stared straight ahead, his mouth falling open.
“What is it…?” She followed his gaze only to let her mouth drop open too.
There, wrapped in the arms of a large man, was Augusta. The proud bearing, dark hair, tall, thin body belonged to none other. Not only was she pressed against the man, but she was kissing him with an enthusiastic fervor.
She didn’t appear to be harmed or disadvantaged or even coerced. In fact, from the way her arms were roaming over the man’s chest, she’d moved in and taken up residence there.
Jackson released a low growl and lowered Sage to her feet. “Just one moment.” He stalked across the hallway toward Augusta. His footsteps were loud and ominous.
A gentleman stepped out of a side room with a smile and a greeting on his lips, but Jackson passed by him without a glance. Jackson didn’t stop until he reached Augusta. Then without a word, he ripped the fellow away from his sister and shoved him against the wall. With a roar, he lifted a fist and swung it.
“Stop!” Augusta yelled. But she was too late. Jackson’s punch connected with the big man’s gut.
The fellow’s eyes rounded, and he emitted anoof. With mature facial features, a trim beard, and a few strands of silver in his brown hair, he appeared to be a middle-aged man. Attired in a simple blue suit, he had a gentlemanly look, although without the same suave aura that Jackson had.
Jackson’s features were gathered with fury, and he raised his fist for another punch. But this time, Augusta grasped his arm. “Don’t hit him again, Jackson.”
“Hitting is the least I plan to do to him for kidnapping you.” Jackson threw another fist into the man’s stomach.
“No!” Augusta practically screamed the word, the panic in her voice and on her face finally halting Jackson.
A strange premonition sifted through Sage as she took in Augusta’s flushed face, swollen lips…and the beautiful sapphire ring on her left hand.
Augusta yanked Jackson back. “He’s my husband!”
Jackson stared at Augusta for a long moment. Then he dropped his arm. “You’re married?” His voice held a note of shock.
Augusta’s eyes filled with censure. “Is it so hard to believe that a spinster like me could find love?”
“Yes…no…” Jackson rubbed at his knuckles, likely now bruised. “I do not begrudge you the love of a man, Augusta. Not in the least. I wish you much marital happiness. But…”
“But what?”
“We thought you were kidnapped.”
For the first time, Augusta glanced at Sage, her eyes warm and welcoming but without the least amount of surprise that Sage was present.
“This is my husband, Nelson Roundtable.” Augusta reached for the big fellow’s hand and positioned herself by his side. Although he was watching Jackson warily, he tenderly tucked Augusta’s hand into his.
“The cook said he heard you scream,” Jackson said, “and saw a man carrying you from the house.”
