Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

Brent laughed. “Hardly, sweetheart.” He tucked an errant tendril of hair behind her ear.

She warmed at his endearment, foolishly, of course. He meant nothing by it. Damn him, he probably called Celeste his sweetheart.

“Your hair is so soft,” he said, winding a long strand around his fingers.

“I washed it this afternoon,” she said.

He gathered a handful of hair and brought it to his nose, and breathed in deeply. “What is the scent?”

“Gardenia.”

He drew back, his eyes going cold. Laurel had used gardenia. Had drenched her bathwater with the scent, had lavishly sprayed it all over her body.

“It isn’t my favorite,” he said. “I should prefer another scent, perhaps jasmine or rose. I shall buy it for you.”

She winced as though he’d struck her.

But Brent didn’t notice. He’d quickly closed Laurel from his mind and was trying to figure out a way to stay with Byrony. “Oh, damn,” he said. He quickly leaned down to kiss her. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

She finally went to bed and lay awake for two hours. He hadn’t come in by the time she fell asleep.

Actually, Brent finished his business with Cora, a joint purchase of poker tables from Baltimore, but was detained by Maggie. He looked impatient, but she merely motioned him into her parlor.

“You’ve got to get her out of here,” Maggie said without preamble. “The damned talk will continue if you keep your wife here.”

“Byrony said she liked it here,” Brent said.

“Don’t be a stupid ass,” Maggie said. “Do you know that two of my girls, Felice and Nora, visited her this afternoon? No, I didn’t think you did. I shudder to think of what they talked about. Nora is a half-wit and Felice can talk of nothing but men and their preferences. Is that what you want for your wife?”

“Shit,” said Brent.

“Exactly. Now, I’ll miss her, don’t get me wrong, Brent, I’ll miss you too for that matter. But it just isn’t right. Another thing. Byrony asked me to go out with her tomorrow. Can’t you just hear the talk now? Mrs. Hammond in the company of a madam? I told her no, of course, and she was hurt. She really doesn’t understand, Brent.”

“Give me a brandy, Maggie.”

“Idiot man,” Maggie said under her breath. When she’d handed him a snifter of brandy, she asked, “What do you intend? Keeping her here until she’s pregnant with your child?”

He choked on the brandy. Pregnant. “I’m not ready to be a father, for God’s sake!”

Maggie grimaced at his outraged tone. “Oh,” she said sarcastically, “she is still a virgin then? You haven’t laid a hand or any other part of your man’s anatomy on her? You’ve given her instructions on how not to conceive?”

“No, I’ve loved her until we’re both exhausted.”

“Such an intelligent man.” She gentled her voice, very slightly, at the stunned expression on his face. “Look, Brent, you’ve been with a very different breed of woman until now. Celeste, Felice, Nora, they all know the rules. They made the rules, for God’s sake, and they’re all growing quite prosperous off the horny men in this city. What does Byrony have?”

“She has a husband,” he said.

“Such a lucky girl. Just what do you expect her to do with herself? Knit perhaps,while you’re gambling downstairs? She’s a bloody prisoner, Brent. For God’s sake, get her out of here.”

Brent tossed down the rest of his brandy, snapped the snifter on a side table, and rose.

“Let me tell you another thing, Brent,” Maggie said. “Saint also thinks—”

“Damnation. Is everyone minding my business for me? Hell, is Delaney going to track me down tomorrow with his advice?” He held up his hand when Maggie’s mouth opened.

“All right, I’ll think about it.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Lord, life was so bloody simple.”

“It still could be if you weren’t such a stubborn fool,” said Maggie to his departing back.