Free Bonds of Blood [Lords of the Expanse] (Siren Publishing Classic) by Honor James Page B

brought the wrong bags, Andries.” She had a frown on her face as she held the robe closed. “The bags are filled with weapons, Andries, and I’ve never fired a weapon, let alone owned one, so the bags have to belong to someone else.”
    “What?” he asked with a frown as he looked past her to the doors and then down to her. “I was told those were the only bags in your suite, and since there were no other occupied ones on that level, it was the only place for the guard to go to retrieve anything, Xandra.” The weapons would be a serious problem though. “If they are not yours, Xandra”—he looked her square in the eye—“whose are they?”
    She frowned because of how he was looking at her, how he was giving her a look of pure and complete suspicion. “I have no idea, Andries, but they do not belong to me.” And yet, he didn’t believe her. She saw it in his eyes. “Would you please get rid of them? Or would you rather I did?” She had no idea what she would do with two bags full of weapons, but she would figure it out if she had to. “The suitcases, the bags are mine. The contents are not.”
    “I’m not blaming you, Xandra,” he growled at her before he could stop himself. “But you have to admit that, if not for your annoying and decidedly oafish assistant, I’d have good reason to look to you.” Shaking his head hard, he turned from her. “You need to learn that I’m not going to blame you for everything if you intend on this to last for any length of time,” he warned as he stalked back into the kitchen area, grabbed his glass, and then stalked out toward the main sitting area where he’d left his communicator.
    Picking it up, he dialed in the guards and asked one of them to return to his suite to retrieve the bags and to move them to his personal locker on his ship. Tossing the device to a long low-back couch, he moved to the windows and stood there looking out at the clouds as he tried to not be angry at her. Her life had made her wary of any male around her. It wasn’t her fault and yet…she looked at him with that hint of fear and he wanted her father’s blood on his hands all the more or to throttle her, which was new.
     
    * * * *
     
    She was pacing as she moved back to the bedroom, still wearing his robe and feeling angry. Angry at everything, the life she had up to that point, the fear she had at him for yelling at her, and angry at life in general. She was tired of feeling as if she had no place in society, because she did. She had her grandmother’s strength of will on her father’s side, likely why he hated her so—being a constant reminder of the woman he hated. She would be damned if she took this lying down.
    Emptying his glass as he heard her coming, Andries swore to himself he’d keep his head. He knew he’d been an ass, losing his temper with her as he had. Setting the glass down, he waited for what he was sure was a dressing down that he more than deserved or tears, which would be so much worse.
    She stormed out of their bedroom and moved back to where he was standing. “You are never, ever to walk out on me.” Her tone was less than friendly and more than slightly raised. “We have barely been married half a day and yet you walk out on me. Granted, it’s to another part of our home, but you left me.” She was pacing now. In her fury, the robe and her hair flying behind her with each stride she made across the floor, she said, “I know nothing about this life except that I need you in it. I need more from you than you are willing to give. I need warmth, Andries, and you are darn well going to learn to give that to me because that is what a husband does, makes sure his wife is happy.” When she stopped before him, her face was flushed in her anger, the robe was slightly askew, and her eyes snapped in fury.
    All he could do was look at her. She was magnificent in her anger, and for some absurd reason, he was amused by her anger. “And if I don’t?” he asked