Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

“You will do as I tell you.” He shook her again. “I will have no more scenes.” He pulled her from Celeste’s bedroom, his mistress’s laughter sounding in his ears. “I don’t believe this,” he said to himself as he dragged her out of the house. He felt her straining away from him. “Behave or I swear I’ll thrash you.”

Byrony was too furious to react to his threat. “You just try it, Brent Hammond. I’ll carve you up, I’ll shoot you.”

“Just shut up. And here I thought I’d married a lady.”

She whirled about and slammed her fist into his belly.

He grunted in surprise.

“I’m no lady,” she yelled at him. “I’m your wife.”

Brent was marginally aware that people had paused to stare at them. He tightened his jaw and his hold on her arm. By the time they’d reached the saloon’s back entrance, Byrony was silent and white. What have you done, you idiot? She’d embarrassed him, that’s what she’d done. Infuriated him. Made him look like a fool. The list went on in her head until Brent opened their apartment door and shoved her inside. She stood quietly, rubbing her arms.

“I won’t beat you,” he said as he very calmly closed the door, “for the simple reason that I promised you I would never hurt you. But you deserve it, Byrony. Now, I want you to tell me just what you were doing there.”

It seemed to Brent that she hadn’t heard him, and he said more sharply, “I told you that Celeste was none of your affair. She has nothing to do with you.”

“I’ll be gone by tomorrow,” she said, not looking at him. “I want nothing from you, Brent. I have the necklace Ira gave me. I intend to sell it. It will give me a start somewhere else.”

He ground his teeth. “You’re not going anywhere.”

She cocked her head at him, clearly puzzled. “You don’t want me. You only married me because—well, I’m not really certain why you did. Guilt, perhaps, because you seduced me—not the harlot you believed me to be, but a virgin? Or was it pity for a homeless waif?”

“I married you because I care for you, you little idiot.” He saw she didn’t believe him. Even to his own ears, his words sounded like gibberish from a confused man. It was pity, guilt, but not all, for God’s sake. There was more, so much more. It seemed like he’d wanted her forever.

“But you also care for Celeste.”

“It’s not the same thing.” He ran his hand through his hair, quite aware that he was digging himself in deeper and deeper. How dare she question him like this.

“And when you don’t care for Celeste any longer, there will be another woman, won’t there?”

“No. Byrony, listen to me. I didn’t go there to make—to sleep with her.”

“Oh? To have breakfast, then? To have a chat about your day’s activities? To ask her whether or not she wanted to go riding with you, tomorrow perhaps, when you’d be free?”

“No, I went there to ask her how to prevent conception.”

Byrony drew up short. “Prevent conception,” she repeated. “I don’t understand.”

“Because I don’t want you to get pregnant. Christ. It’s too soon, Byrony, much too soon. You’re too young, and I—well, I—”

“You what, Brent?” She went pale as the truth dawned on her. “If I became pregnant, you’d be truly tied to me, wouldn’t you? Your freedom would be well gone.”

“It’s not like that,” he said. “We need time to learn about each other, time to—”

“Time to see whether you get bored with me? And when you do, you hope I will still have the infamous necklace to sell so I will be gone from your life?”

“No, dammit.”

“I’m just another mistress to you, aren’t I, Brent? A mistress who dares not even look at another man because she belongs legally to you. I thought—Well, it’s no longer important.” Byrony whirled around, unable to face him further. She felt tears sting her eyes, and viciously wiped them away. She heard him coming toward her, and quickly moved to the other side of the bed. “Stay away from me, Brent.”

He was angry, tense with it, rigid with it. How dare she follow him, then accuse him of such things? He said, “It doesn’t really matter what you want. As you said, you belong to me legally. You will do as I tell you. Since you have such a vivid imagination and poisonous tongue, I think I will really give you something to rant about.”

She looked at him, then saw the purpose, the determi

nation in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Take off your clothes. As you almost said this morning, my dear, I much enjoy waking up to lovemaking. And you know it, don’t you? Perhaps you even enjoy me as much as I enjoy you?”