Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

He groaned and ran his hand through his hair. “You’re a bloody woman, and you’re telling me that you—”

“Yes, I, a bloody woman, haven’t had the time. I haven’t harmed your precious child, Alex. Now, would you please stop your ranting and let me go to bed?”

“That wasn’t the only reason, was it?”

“No. If you would know the entire truth, I didn’t want people looking at my waistline.”

“I should beat some sense into you. So this is how you treat your promises to me? As for what anyone thinks about your pregnancy, I don’t give a good goddamn. You are pregnant, dammit, and everyone will know it soon enough.”

“Well, I have no more corsets left now, so you needn’t worry.”

He was still angry, and she sighed. “Please, Alex, I’m so tired.”

“You should be, it’s the middle of the night.” He drew a deep breath and said very calmly, almost gently, “I expect you to stop pretending nothing has happened, Giana, to yourself or to anyone else. You are pregnant with my child and in the role of my wife, and your scurrying about, doubtless working harder than you did in London, will not change it. It must stop, Giana. No more rushing about from morning until midnight. You will get more rest. If you don’t care about our child and your own health, I do. You will obey me in this, else I’ll lock you in your room.”

“I’ll thank you to stop giving me orders.”

“I will stop when you no longer act like a stubborn mule and assume the behavior of a reasoning adult.”

He was acting as if she were a willful child and he the wise father. She gritted her teeth and said at him, without thinking, “I will do exactly as I believe right, Alex, with no more smug orders from you. I am not a fool, as you seem to believe, and what’s more, I will have my partnership with Mr. McCormick.” She paused but a moment, staring up at his set face, and said, “Indeed, I fully intend to accept Charles Lattimer’s offer of a loan to do it.”

He said slowly, his eyes darkened, “You are telling me that Lattimer offered you the money?”

She nodded.

“And just what collateral does Lattimer demand?”

“Twice the amount of the loan, from my twenty-five-percent ownership of Van Cleve/Saxton.”

He shook his head, and his voice was suddenly weary. “You know that Lattimer and I do not deal well together. Did it not occur to you that the only reason he is offering to back you is that he knows well you will fail and thus he will get to me through you?”

“That is not true, Alex. He is lending the money because he believes that the partnership will succeed. He is, after all, a banker, and a successful one at that. It has nothing to do with any male fights the two of you have nurtured.”

Alex said slowly, seeming to select his words very carefully, “Lattimer and I do not deal well together for a very simple reason: he was a suitor to my first wife. Laura’s father preferred me as his son-in-law. Lattimer has never forgiven me for what he believes was underhanded dealing, in other words, marrying Laura for her money without caring for her. He doubtless sees the loan as revenge.”

For a moment Giana doubted her judgment. But to offer her the loan because he was, years ago, in love with the same woman as Alex, likely believing out of disappointed spite that Alex was a blackguard, seemed to her vastly improbable. No, Charles believed in her scheme, and after all, he was Derry’s husband, and thus solicitous of her as well. Only two proud, stubborn men, she thought, looking away from Alex toward her smoldering corset in the fireplace, could contrive to act like two dogs in the manger, chewing a bone that should have, years ago, been decently buried and forgotten.

“Very well,” she said, untying her petticoats. “I am going to bed.”

Alex frowned at her, knowing full well that Giana intended to accept the terms Lattimer offered. Though it angered him all the more, he knew the story he had told her about him must in truth sound like a tempest in a teapot.

She shrugged her shoulders, unaware that the sight of her, disheveled, her hair falling loose down her back, one long hand winding over her breast, was fast turning his anger into lust. At his continued silence, she jerked her head up. “If you want to be in a foul mood, Alex, why don’t you just sleep downstairs?”

“No,” he said, stepping toward her. “I want to sleep with my wife and make love to her.”

Giana whirled about to face him, standing only in her white chemise, a lacy, quite sheer garment that reached her knees, and left little to his imagination. “I think not, Alex,” she said. “I find it difficult to feel any desire for you, much less liking, with your continual disapproval of me.”

“That will change quickly enough,” he said deliberately, sweeping his eyes over her, “when we’re in bed.”

“Stop it, Alex. I want nothing to do with you, do you understand? I am not some sort of strumpet, here for your blasted pleasure.”

She felt his arms close around her, and drove her fist into his belly. He held her immobile against him, and laughed, his breath warm against her temple. “I told you, love, that you should wait until after our child is born. You’ll be stronger then and can smack me good.”

“Stop laughing at me.” She tried to pull away from him, but he merely held her against him with one arm and grasped the top of her chemise and ripped it down her back.

“Are you going to throw it in the fire?” He did not answer her, only lifted her in his arms and dumped her onto the velvet covers of their bed.

“Stubborn little fool,” she heard him mutter to himself as he tugged off his shoes.