Free My Naughty Minette by Annabel Joseph Page A

young lady.”
    It upset her to be lectured like a child. She wasn’t a child. She was his wife, and she wished to be treated as such. She wished he might kiss and embrace her, and fondle her, and do those outrageous things he’d done to her Hallowe’en night. She wasn’t a ‘young lady.’ She was a woman. A woman who didn’t appreciate being spanked on her wedding night.
    “I’ll go to bed,” she said in a trembling voice, “if you’ll come with me.”
    He stared back at her, his face set in authoritative lines. “I’ll come with you, but I won’t stay.”
    “Then I won’t go.”
    Something in his gaze flickered. “You are very brave to say that just now.” Before she knew what he was about, he’d swept her up in his arms the way he’d done that day when she was terrified of the dog. She wasn’t terrified of dogs anymore. No. She was more terrified of loveless, sham marriages, where one party stayed in the country while another stayed in the city, and everyone gossiped about them behind their backs. It appeared she had entered into one of those marriages. And when August went to London, he would probably go visit his lady of the night, and pay her to do the things he wouldn’t do with her.
    But I’ll do them for you. I would do anything you wanted.
    August carried her up the wide staircase and down the series of corridors, while Minette tried to think of the words that might thaw him. She was considered a gifted conversationalist, but she came up empty this night. She felt so very frustrated and tired, and oh, her bottom hurt. She laid her head against his chest, against the soft, fresh-scented silk of his waistcoat, and cried a few more tears before they reached her far-flung room.
    A footman—a different one now—opened the door for August to proceed through it. Once inside, he passed through her dressing room to the bedroom and tossed her on the bed. He sat beside her, but not in a fond way. He sat on the edge of the bed with his hands on his knees. He also looked very frustrated and tired.
    “You must understand...” He paused and ran his fingers through his hair. “This is the way things have to be right now. I need time, Minette. I have a lot of other pressures, a lot of things going on. My father’s very sick and he’s not going to get better. I have duties in London. I have fences to mend and preparations to make.”
    “Preparations for what?”
    “My father’s death.” He said it in a very hollow way.
    She wanted to comfort him, to embrace him, but she was terrified he’d push her away. So she only stroked the side of his arm, up and back, in a tentative gesture. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry your father’s going to die. I never really knew my parents so I don’t know what that feels like. Very bad, I suspect.”
    “It does feel very bad, and you needn’t be there in the middle of it, trying to be my new wife with sadness all around. Give me some time to get used to everything that’s happened, please, darling. Give me a little space.”
    “If that’s what you want,” she said. “I love you, August. I always have.”
    He let out a sharp breath. “Why? Why have you loved me for so long? What do you even know of me, Minette?”
    “I know enough. I know that I love you,” she said staunchly. “Please, let me come to London. I won’t addle you, I promise.”
    He placed a finger over her lips. “I know you won’t mean to addle me, but you will. I’ll send for you when things have calmed down, all right? I’ll see you at the holidays, at least.”
    “The holidays are six weeks away,” she said past his finger. She wanted to bite it, he made her so furious, and if he gave her another of those chaste forehead kisses, she believed she would fly into a rage.
    But he didn’t give her a forehead kiss or any sort of kiss. He squeezed her hand and pressed his cheek to hers, then stood and walked out of the room without so much as a backward glance.

Chapter Six: