Free Her Scottish Groom by Ann Stephens

head. She braced herself for long seconds, but the blow never fell. Only the sound of her husband’s labored breathing filled the room. When she dared to look up, he still stood over her with his hand raised, but the wrath had died out of his eyes. Instead he regarded her with amazement.
    “I threw the telegram.” He stared at her. “Surely you don’t think I would hit you?”
    Glancing to one side, she saw where the scrap of paper had fallen.
    “Please excuse me—I need to freshen up.” Bracing her trembling knees, she straightened her legs. He stepped back, giving her a clear path as she sidled past him.
    In the safety of her own room, she made her way blindly to sit on the narrow bed and pressed a hand to her hammering heart. The marriage would never work, not if he flew into rages worse than her father’s.
    The door to the cabin opened. Kieran entered and pushed it closed behind him. She stood stiffly; her hands clenched as much in fear as in anger.
    The latter emotion won out. “Please leave, your lordship.”
    “Your father hit you.” The quiet statement hung between them as she shrugged a shoulder.
    “That’s his prerogative. All the laws say so.” After one glance at his face, she stared at the oriental rug decorating the floor.
    “I’m sorry.” He did not approach her, but she could not bear the pity in his eyes.
    Feeling suffocated, she walked over to gaze out of a porthole. The busy harbor scene outside barely registered on her mind. “Why? I’m sure your father dispensed corporal punishment, too.”
    “I was on the receiving end of the rod often enough to make me behave, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” His footsteps sounded on the wooden floor. “I would never strike you.”
    She froze as she felt his hand on her shoulder. “So you say.”
    His hand dropped and his frustration showed once more. “You don’t believe me?”
    “I’d like to, but my parents both have—choleric temperaments.” She rounded on him. “And after that display, why should I think you’re any different?” Her face stiffened as she fought back tears. “Howcould you think I would speak of such personal things to anyone, much less my father?”
    He ran a hand through his hair. “Who else could have known that we didn’t spend the night together?”
    She rolled her eyes. “The servants?”
    He all but goggled at her. “Are you suggesting that your father set his servants to spy on us?”
    “You think not? That’s how he runs his companies.”
    “Diantha, I will not be spied upon! Not by your father or anyone! Is that understood?” His tone sharpened, but not to the proportions of his earlier rage.
    “Be sure to tell him that. It’s a long stroll back to New York.” She smiled sweetly. “But as a member of the aristocracy, you can walk on water, can’t you!”
    He scowled at her. “You, my girl, are an irreligious termagant. And if you thought the servants sent it, why did you wait till now to say so?”
    She stared at his patterned vest of deep blue. “Because you aren’t yelling at me now.” Her parents would have scolded her now for sounding like a pettish child. Kieran sighed and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.
    “I should have kept a tighter rein on my temper. I swear to you I would never raise a hand against a woman.” Lacing his fingers with hers, he pressed a kiss onto the taut skin of her knuckle, his gaze never leaving her face. Startled by the unexpected action, she tried to remove it from his grasp, but he did not let go.
    Mesmerized by the handsome face so close to hers, she could barely speak. “I cannot entirelyblame you for your anger. If I had been in your place, I would very likely have done the same.”
    A twinkle entered the wide eyes so close to hers. “Truly? Pounding the table and shouting?”
    “It’s possible.” She bit her lip. “I have quite a dreadful temper myself.”
    He gave her a half smile. “Even after months of being