Free The Rebel Bride by Tracey Jane Jackson Page A

poured him a glass.
    “Let’s sit you up,” she said and helped him up then put pillows behind him. She handed him the glass and started to leave the room.
    “Where are you going?”
    “I’m just getting you a couple of painkillers. I’ll be right back.” Feeling her way around her bedroom, she couldn’t find her bag and she didn’t know how to light her lamp without matches, so she went back across the hall and poked her head into Quincy’s room. “Gus? How do I light my lamp? I can’t see anything in my room.”
    Sitting up, he whispered, “Let me assist.”
    She shook her head. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll take care of it.”
    “I’ll help, Rebel.” Bracing his hand on the edge of the mattress, he tried to climb out of the bed.
    She rushed to his side. “What are you doing, crazy man?”
    “I’m fine, Victoria.”
    Letting out a little screech when she suddenly realized the discarded sheet revealed a nicely formed thigh, she turned her back. “You’re naked.”
    “There should be trousers in the bureau.”
    She glanced at him over her shoulder. “So?”
    “Victoria, please get me some pants.”
    “No.”
    He sighed. “Little rebel.”
    “No,” she stressed. “You shouldn’t get out of bed.”
    “Get the pants,” he ordered.
    “Make me.”
    Quincy stood.
    “What are you doing?” she squealed.
    He moved behind her and grabbed a robe. “I never could say no to a good challenge.”
    “You’re an idiot.” Without turning to look at him, she walked out of the room and slammed the door. She heard a loud bump and an expletive, which made her feel somewhat vindicated.
    “Miss Carrington?” She turned to see Christopher moving quickly down the hall, Hannah following. “What happened?”
    “Ask your brother,” Victoria said with a scowl and moved into her room.
    Hannah rushed inside with her and closed the door. “What happened?”
    “Nothing.” Victoria paced the room.
    “Oh, really? What was that loud bang?”
    Victoria shrugged. “I have no idea.”
    Hannah crossed her arms. “JoBo, spill.”
    Victoria relayed what happened and Hannah started giggling. “Naked? Seriously.”
    “Yes.” Victoria sighed in frustration. “Is it so different in the north than in the south? I know for a fact that in the nineteenth-century south, men didn’t pull moves like that.”
    “No, it’s certainly not different.”
    * * *
    Across the hall, Quincy tried to block out his brother’s lecture.
    “Tell me you did not get out of bed without clothes on in front of my wife’s friend!” Christopher ordered.
    Quincy shrugged. “She wouldn’t retrieve my pants.”
    “Why would you need pants, Quinn? You’re supposed to be resting.”
    “Well, Christopher the Big, she needed assistance,” Quincy argued.
    Gwen and her brothers had given Christopher his nickname when he had reached six feet…at the age of fourteen. He’d always been the moral compass for the siblings, and with his size, people tended to leave the Butler children alone. For the most part, Christopher took the nickname in stride, but Quincy tended to throw it in Christopher’s face a little more than the others, because he was just barely an inch shorter than his older brother.
    Christopher crossed his arms. “What type of assistance?”
    “She needed to light her bedroom lamp.”
    Christopher’s eyes widened. “You could have just explained how to do it.”
    Quincy shrugged. “Perhaps.”
    “If you didn’t already have a bullet wound in your shoulder, I’d put one there,” Christopher threatened as he handed him a pair of pants. “Put these on.”
    “I need assistance.”
    “I hope you have not offended her sensibilities.” Christopher helped him with his clothing.
    Quincy snorted. “Her sensibilities are not easily offended.”
    “How would you know that?” Christopher asked, infuriated.
    Quincy made an attempt at buttoning his shirt. “She was the one who removed the bullet from my thigh.”
    “I