The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

It was Sophie's voice and Ryder hadn't heard that tone for more than two months. It was cold and angry and arrogant and he loved it. There was fire in her eyes.

"Damn you, keep away from my husband!"

"Your what?" Poor Sara was trying to make her mare back up but the beast was eyeing Opal with fascination and refused to move.

"You heard me! What are you saying to him? Why did you touch him? How dare you kiss him! Keep your blasted fingers and hands to yourself—and your miserable hussy mouth!"

Sara blinked. She turned from the woman to Ryder, who was lazily sitting his stallion, his eyes on the woman's face. He was smiling. His eyes were gleaming. He looked arrogant, naturally, Ryder was the most arrogant beast she'd ever known, but there was no cynical glimmer in his blue eyes, no, just pleasure and she didn't understand it. Goodness, if his eyes had been dark, they would have looked wicked. "She is your wife, Ryder?"

He turned to Sara then and nodded. "I was about to tell you but she rode down on us like one of the damned Greek Furies. Sophie, draw in your claws. This is Sara Clockwell and she is a friend of mine Sara, my wife, Sophie."

It was at that instant that Sophie realized what she'd done. She'd acted like a shrew, a jealous, possessive termagant. She'd yelled and cursed and insulted this woman. And Ryder loved it. He looked very smug and satisfied and she'd just given him more fodder than a five-acre wheatfield needed. She felt humiliated; she felt exposed and very uncertain of herself and what she was and why she'd behaved as she had.

She nodded to the woman, silent as the grave now, a very lovely young woman with large breasts and an uncertain smile on a wide mouth. She said to her husband, her voice stiff as a fence post, "I am sorry to disturb your conversation with your friend. Since you haven't seen each other for quite a few months, I will leave you alone to renew yourselves." She wheeled Opal around and rode away fast as the wind.

Ryder merely smiled after her, the wickedness alive and thriving in his eyes. Douglas had been right about Sophie surprising him. It was beyond wonderful. Sweet heavens, he felt a surge of hope.

"Your wife, Ryder?"

He didn't hear hurt in her voice, just utter dis­belief. He turned to look at Sara's bewildered face. "Yes, she is. I met her on Jamaica and wed her there. We have been separated until just yesterday. She's a hellion, isn't she? She speaks her mind openly. For­give her but she is possessive of me. I like that, you know." He rubbed his hands together in pleasure.

"You . . . you like that?" Sara managed, still trying to grasp this beyond-odd situation. 'You have never wanted a woman to be possessive. Why, Beatrice told me that—" Her voice broke off and she blushed.

Ryder's left eyebrow shot up. "You and Bea? Come, tell me the truth, Sara."

"Bea told me that you hated any sort of clinging or orders or demands from a woman. She said you hated for a woman to be serious, to bedevil you, to . . . well, she did also say that you were honorable and a woman could trust you. She said you were lighthearted and fun, that you only enjoyed women in your bed. She said you were always generous with pleasure and I told her I knew that for a fact."

Ryder was silent for a long moment. So his mistresses discussed him, did they? It made him feel rather strange. Of course men discussed their mistresses, but that was the way of things. But women discussing him? He said finally, his voice very quiet, "Bea was wrong. Sophie is strong-willed and I fancy my days of freedom with other ladies are well over."

"You don't mind, truly?"

He grinned at her.

"But I wanted to see you, to tell you that—"

"That what, Sara?"

She said on a rush, "That I am going to marry David Dabbs. He's a farmer near Swinley."

"Congratulations. Then, I take it, you have no more use for me?"

She shook her head uncertainly, and decided it was her best course to essay a laugh. Sara had never been able to laugh when she was supposed to. But it hadn't seemed to bother Ryder. He'd always adored her breasts and her ears, he'd tell her in the next breath, even as he pumped into her, soft little ears that tasted like plums and peaches. She hadn't understood him, but she'd had more pleasure with him than she expected to share with the dour David. But a husband was a husband, and they lasted until they died, they had no choice in the matter, and now even Ryder was one. It was amaz-ing; it was unbelievable, but he looked quite pleased about it. And this wife of his was possessive.

Only now he was frowning.

"You must go after her, Ryder. She is angry that she saw us together. She is angry that I was kissing you and that you were, well—there it is."

Ryder turned to grin at her. She sounded pleased that his wife was jealous of her. He enjoyed her show of vanity. Perhaps one day, Sophie would be just a bit transparent so that he wouldn't have to flay his mind to constantly outguess her. He leaned over and kissed Sara's cheek. "I wish you luck with your David, Sara. Good-bye."

Ryder didn't ride after his wife. He turned Genesis back toward Northcliffe. A wife should have to stew in her jealous juices once in a while. He certainly had no intention of apologizing to her for Sara or any of the others. Ah, what was she doing now?

He was whistling as he dug his heels into his stallion's sides.

CHAPTER

16

SOPHIE RETURNED TO the hall an hour later. She felt like a fool. She wanted to kick herself. She didn't, quite simply, understand why she'd done it. She left Opal with a huge bucket of oats in the stable, spoke with the head stable lad, McCallum, a man who was crusty and likable and looked at her just like he would a horse, then walked toward the man­sion. She stopped suddenly, disbelieving, shading her eyes from the bright sun. No, it couldn't be true. Not again. There, standing on the deep-set front steps, was a young woman, a very pretty young woman with very black hair. Ryder was standing on the step above her. She was leaning into him and her hand was on his right arm. He was speaking quietly to her and she was nodding. Sophie's stomach churned and her jaw locked for the second time that afternoon. All rational thought fled her brain.