Page 58 of Wickedly Yours
“What did I tell you about calling me that?” His grip grew tighter, his anger hotter.
“I am glad for your arrival. I was about to pretend to have a fit of the vapors just to escape the inane banter but didn’t know where to find you. If you sought to torture me this evening you have succeeded beyond your wildest imaginings.” Arabella frowned. “Mr. Longstreet was the only bright spot and even my attention in him was beginning to wane.”
Rowan looked up and down the line of coaches and spying his own, led her over. “Home,” he instructed his driver as her lifted Arabella inside. “It did not appear so.”
She sat across from him and arranged her skirts, regarding him with a question in her dark eyes. “You’re in an ill humor. And you smell of scotch.” She leaned forward. “Are you foxed?”
* * *
Arabella sniffed the air again.Rowanwasfoxed. And angry. His large body fairly vibrated with ice cold rage as if she’d done something horrible. She hadn’t. She’d allowed the twittering Lady Galspred, a woman with the personality of a boiled turnip, to introduce her to a larger group of uninteresting ladies. She’d laughed at the inane banter. Danced with Longstreet and engaged him in conversation gleaning bits of information from him.
All because she’d promised Rowan she would behave.
It wasexhaustingto be social and she wasn’t at all sure she cared for it. Before her banishment to Wales, Arabella hadn’t really attended many social functions. If she did, it was usually to benefit a charity or some other worthy cause she supported. Sometimes she’d attend a ball or some other event if Miranda begged her, but even so the two of them only stood against the wall and whispered about everyone in the room. Thetonhad deemed Miranda scandalous and Arabella…sour.
Rowan was looking out the window, his hands curled into fists. He deliberately ignored her, barely glancing in her direction as the carriage rolled towards their home.
The first trickles of anxiety ran down her spine.
“Rowan?”
His eyes were glacial upon her. “Stop talking.”
Arabella fell back at the quiet growl, inching her body out of his reach. She’d never been afraid of Rowan; in truth, he had never given her cause. Despite the amount of sarcasm and insults she had often thrown his way he’d never once hurt her. Had Barker found Rowan and told him the truth?
“I can explain,” she whispered, prepared to beg his understanding.
He smiled at her. Not his usual charming twist of the lips which lit his handsome face, but a frosty grimace which filled her with apprehension. “We’re home.”
The carriage barely stopped before Rowan leapt down, grabbing her wrist to lead her into the house. He only stopped to fling his coat at the butler before grabbing her wrist again and pulling her up the stairs.
“Rowan stop. The servants—”
“Will assume nothing if they wish to remain employed.”
He thundered up the steps, stopping just outside her bedroom door. He flung it open with a bang, dragging her behind him.
“Begone.” He commanded her maid. “I’ll see to my wife this evening.”
Arabella struggled against his hold on her wrist.
Her maid, Edith, look askance at them both. She shot a worried look at Arabella then back to Rowan. “My lord—”
“Get. Out.” Rowan’s voice was little more than an icy whisper.
Edith scurried out, bobbing once and then shut the door behind her.
“Have you taken to terrifying the servants?” Arabella shook him off. “I am in no mood for your foul temper. Nor your drunken bumbling. I witnessed enough of such behavior with my father.” Fear of discovery had made her waspish and she truly did not care for this hard, angry man who watched her as if he would pounce at any time.
“Take off your dress.” The words snarled out. “Now.” His eyes, cold and predatory, had darkened to a murky green.
“I am in no mood—”
“You should be more concerned aboutmymood,” he murmured in a silky tone. “Much more concerned.”
Arabella swallowed. “You’ve dismissed my maid.” Her fear only served to heighten the ache beginning between her legs. She was aroused and if the tightness of Rowan’s breeches were any indication, he was as well.
“How careless of me. I shall act as your maid.” He shoved his knuckles down between her breasts, ripping her gown to the waist. Several buttons fell and rolled about her ankles as the fragile silk hung shredded, gaping open to her chemise.
