Page 39 of Harpy of the Ton
“No—I won’t, I say,” Lady Arabella yelled from the room, “youvile peasant!”
Lawrence suppressed a snort. “Forgive me—she has a wicked tongue sometimes. Rest assured, I’ll teach her the error of her ways.”
“I’m glad of it,” Mrs. Carter said, and she opened the parlor door.
“Why have you come back?” an angry voice demanded.
“I’ve good news, my dear,” Mrs. Carter said. “Your husband has come to take you away.”
This was met with a sharp intake of breath, followed by silence.
Lawrence entered the parlor.
There she was—Lady Arabella Ponsford—reclined on a sofa. She looked up, and bright sapphire eyes met Lawrence’s gaze without a flicker of recognition. Undeterred, he opened his arms and passed the point of no return.
“Thank heaven!” he cried. “I’ve found you—my Bella!”
Chapter Thirteen
My Bella…
A huge man stood in the doorway.
Not huge—he was agiant.
He towered over the vicar, his shoulders spanning the doorframe. She cast her gaze over his form—the chest over which a rough-spun shirt strained to fit, the thigh muscles discernible beneath his breeches, and thick boots that were scuffed and soiled.
With a mane of unkempt, dark blond hair, and a nose that bore a kink as if it had been broken, he looked like a Viking fresh from a bloody battle.
And he’d come forher.
Excitement—tinged by fear—curled in her belly, and she drew in a sharp breath as he entered the room.
He extended a hand—large enough to wield axes and snap necks—then uncurled it to reveal a calloused palm.
So uncouth, so rough…
Morebeastthan man.
She met his gaze, and eyes the color of sharp steel regarded her with a hungry expression, as if he longed to devour her.
What might it be like—to bedevoured?
He stepped toward her.
“Get away!” she cried. “I don’t know you!”
“He knows you, miss,” the doctor replied. “He knows your name.”
She shook her head. “I-I’ve never seen this…”
She longed to say “peasant,” but something in the giant’s eyes sent a twist of fear through her. A Viking warrior would not take insults likely, unlike the weak-bellied doctor and his overly starched wife.
The Beast’s forehead crinkled into a frown. “Don’t you remember me, Bella? I’m your husband.”
“H-husband?” Her voice came out in a squeak. He took another step, and she let out a scream. “Don’t touch me!”
“That’s enough, love…” the Beast began.
