Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

Nothing happened. She realized stupidly that she’d only whispered the words.

“Take your hands off my husband.”

Her furious shout drew a gasp from Laurel and she dropped her arms, stepping back. Her eyes met Byrony’s, dropped a moment, but not before Byrony saw the gleam of triumph.

“Stay away from my husband, Laurel. As for you, Brent—” She broke off as he turned very slowly to face her.

To her fury, he grinned at her. “Hello, Byrony,” he said with mild interest. “You’re looking a bit warm. Why don’t you have Mammy Bath make you some lemonade.”

She yelled, “I’m going to shoot you.”

His grin never faltered, and he still appeared but mildly interested. “I believe,” he said, “that our last conversation ended with something of that sort.”

She felt tears, and swiped the back of her hand furiously across her eyes. “As for you, you—painted hussy, I’ll—”

She got no further. Brent burst into laughter. “Painted what? Where the devil did you get that? Have you been reading some lurid novels?”

Laurel giggled.

I should have simply left, not said a word, not humiliated myself, Byrony thought, staring at him. No, that’s what my mother would do. She marched up to her husband, drew back her hand, and slapped him as hard as she could. His laughter died abruptly. Slowly he raised his hand to his cheek and rubbed it.

Her hand stung. At least her precious husband wasn’t laughing at her anymore. She thrust up her chin as she turned, eyes narrowed, to Laurel. “I wonder, just how lovely you’d look with your hair in a rat’s nest around your face.”

She rushed at Laurel. “Don’t you ever go near my husband again.” She grabbed Laurel’s hair before she could move out of the way. Suddenly her arms were hauled downward and pinned to her sides.

“Enough, Byrony.”

Brent drew her back until she was pressed against him. He shook her.

“You bitch.” Laurel hissed at her, but she backed up a step, seeing the fury in Byrony’s eyes.

“What the devil is going on here?” Drew walked forward, looking blankly from his brother, to his brother’s wife, to Laurel.

“She’s trying to give Brent orders,” Laurel said. “She struck him and tried to attack me. She’s crazy.”

Brent felt Byrony quiver and tightened his grip on her upper arms. He shot a look at Laurel before saying to his brother, “Just a slight misunderstanding, that’s all. Now, my dear, are you feeling more restrained?”

Byrony nodded.

He released her, and in the next instant he yelped with pain from the kick to his shin.

Byrony ducked away from him, but her leg struck a marble bench and she fell back, her arms flailing.

Brent swore even as he grabbed for her. “You little fool,” he said, hauling her up again. “Are you trying to hurt yourself, hurt the baby?”

Byrony drew herself up to her full height. “No,” she said clearly, “I was trying to hurt you.”

“You did. What do you think you deserve in return?”

“Really, Brent—” Drew said.

“She should be locked up,” Laurel said.

Brent grinned down at his wife. “That just might not be such a bad idea. Come along, Byrony.”

“Brent, what are you going to do?”

“Mind your own business,” Brent said. He dragged her through the garden beside him.