Honeymoon from Hell IV (Honeymoon from Hell 4)

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“Do you want to stop for a bit?” Robert asked softly even though he was already leading her towards a copse of trees and gesturing for her to have a seat on one of the rotted logs blocking what appeared to be a well-worn path.

“I-I’m fine,” she thought she may have mumbled, but to be honest, she was too tired to know what she was saying or doing. The only thing that she was sure of was that her hands hurt, her legs and feet were sore, she was starving and she was so tired that just the thought of taking one more step made her want to cry.

God, she couldn’t keep doing this for much longer, but she knew that she didn’t have a choice if they were going to make it home before midnight. She just needed a break, just a small one, and she would be okay.

“Why don’t we just sit down here for a few minutes, hmm?” he asked in that tender voice that he’d been using on her since he’d found her standing in the kitchen, struggling to hold it together and wondering why she couldn’t wash the crack in that poor plate away.

“Close your eyes, minx,” Robert said seconds later as she felt his large arm wrap around her and pull her closer.

She wanted to argue with him, to remind him that they needed to start moving again, but sometime between the time that they’d sat down and the time he’d put his arm around her, her eyes had shut of their own accord and her head had somehow found its way onto his shoulder where it was more than happy to stay.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said in that damn soothing tone that she just couldn’t resist.

Well, she did try to resist, but he just felt so incredibly comfortable and she was so tired that she really couldn’t help but take him up on his offer. Just for a few minutes, she decided as she found herself curling up against him, savoring the irresistible warmth that emanating from him.

He felt so good, she had to admit as she reached up and gently gripped the lapel of his coat, promising herself that it was just for a few minutes. She just needed a few minutes and she’d be good. Just a few minutes…

“Morning, minx,” that incredibly sexy voice that she loved said what felt like seconds later. “It’s time to get going.”

Unable to give him the proper response that he deserved, she settled for grunting her displeasure, shoved away from the warm body that she normally loved to curl up against, and rolled over onto her side, taking the coat that smelled like Robert with her and snuggled against the rotting log, uncaring that it smelled or that it was probably covered in bugs. She was just too tired to care.

Later, she would care, but for right now she was just going to enjoy Mother Nature to its fullest and return to that wonderful dream where she never had to leave her bed. It was the best dream she’d ever had and one that she hoped would one day come true. Perhaps today? she hoped with a small sigh and a sleepy little smile as she prepared to return to that beautiful dream.

The warm chuckle was not appreciated when the coat that she’d been snuggling up with was suddenly removed, leaving her at the tender mercy of the cold damp ground. Refusing to accept that her short reprieve was really over, she snuggled in closer to the rotten log, pretending that the small pile of leaves rotting beneath her head was her favorite pillow and that she was back home in her warm, comfortable bed.

“Are you hungry?” Robert asked, for some reason sounding amused as he gently ran his fingers through her hair, pausing every few seconds to carefully pull at something and earning a groan of displeasure as she turned back over and tried to go back to sleep, but Robert wasn’t having it.

“Are you hungry?” the persistent bastard asked, earning a growl of warning, but unfortunately for her, it came out as more of a whimper and a pathetic moan more than anything.

“No,” she groaned, pulling her arms up over her head to protect her poor eyes from the early morning sunlight threatening to destroy her and her illusion of comfort even though she probably was starving.

Actually, there was no probably about it. She was starving simply because she’d refused to be stuck working at that inn until the end of time paying off their debt. She’d made sure that Robert was fed and got what he needed, but she’d refused to be worked like a dog over a bowl of porridge. She wasn’t the weak English woman that they’d taunted her for being. She was strong, independent and could take anything that they’d dished out to her because-

“You have a spider in your hair,” Robert said, interrupting her inner monologue of triumph and determination and reducing her to a hysterical woman, screaming like a lunatic as she jumped to her feet and ran blindly through the woods, not really caring about where she was going or that she kept running into branches, tripping over her own two feet or the fact that Robert had fallen to his knees, barely able to breathe because he was laughing so hard.

Oh, but once she’d made sure that the spider was dead and gone, she would care…

And so would her insensitive husband!

Chapter 8

“You’re going to catch pneumonia,” he absently pointed out with a chuckle when his incredibly beautiful, and extremely angry, wife shot him a look that should have rightfully killed him on the spot.

Then again, he had absolutely no doubt that the little minx was planning on beating him to death once she was done with her impromptu dip in the pond. Not that she’d consciously made the decision to take a bath after her mad dash through the woods when he’d foolishly mentioned the tiny spider crawling on a strand of her hair.

He should have remembered that time when they were kids and a spider had fallen from the ceiling during tea, landing on her arm, making her scream her little head off and admittedly scaring the hell out of him…

That is until he realized what happened and started laughing and hadn’t been to stop without the help of his mother shooting him a glare that had quickly helped him regain control. Unfortunately for him, his mother hadn’t been here to help him this time and he’d wound up laughing his ass off at his wife. Now, in his defense he’d tried, God, how he’d tried, to stop laughing, but every single time he thought he had it under control, she would scream hysterically when a leaf brushed her hand, or when she swatted blindly at her tangled hair, twigs, a squirrel that had made the mistake of coming down a tree to get a closer look at the mad woman screaming and running blindly through the woods, tripping over her own two feet every few seconds until she finally stumbled through the woods, slipped on a patch of mud, tripped over her skirts and did a nose dive into the pond.

That’s when he’d stopped laughing and moved his ass to save his bride, but it was too late by then. Not only had she’d seen him laugh, but she probably also blamed him for the spider. Again, he considered pointing out that it was a very tiny spider, barely big enough to hold on to a strand of her hair, but he knew better. She was exhausted, hungry, humiliated and pissed and he was the reason why.

So, to make sure that he didn’t make this any worse, he planned on standing here, guarding his wife and waiting for her to calm down. It also didn’t hurt that he was safely out of her reach here or that her aim was off when she was pissed, otherwise he’d probably be covered in mud balls and have welts covering him from head to toe from all those rocks she seemed to find at the bottom of the pond every few seconds and liked to throw in his direction with a murderous glare.

“We are not speaking,” she reminded him with that same frightening glare as she stopped trying to clean her tangled hair in the dark murky water and returned her attention to finding another rock to chuck at him.

“Why not?” he asked innocently, simply because seeing her this pissed off at him was entertaining him.

It probably shouldn’t, not with the truce they’d agreed on, but God, it just made his day to see her this riled up and angry with him. She’d always entertained him and he was glad to see that would probably never change, especially since the angrier that she got with him, the worse her aim became. Christ, he’d lost count of how many times that simple fact had saved his ass over the years.

&n

bsp; Her beautiful eyes narrowed to slits as she reached down, grabbed another handful of mud and rotten leaves and chucked it in his direction. It landed five feet away, landing harmlessly between two trees and scaring the hell out of a couple of birds. A little muscle beneath her eye ticked as she blindly reached for another handful of mud.

“I hate you!” she snapped, tightening her hold around the handful of mud and rotted leaves she’d managed to scoop up.

He opened his mouth, admittedly to taunt her just a little more, when something about that handful of mud caught his eye. He shut his mouth, swallowed hard and moved to go to her, but unfortunately for him, at that same moment, his beautiful, brave wife realized what she was holding and promptly…

Passed out.

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