Free The Bride Insists by Jane Ashford Page A

knowing he deserved them.
    Standing there, watching the soft rise and fall of her breath, Jamie saw that his lapse went further. Clare was not a guest, come for a passing visit; she was his wife. She would be here, sleeping in this bed, walking the corridors of his house, for the rest of their lives. He was obliged to treat her with respect, even though he knew so little of her. Jamie was conscious of a twinge of resentment. The bond felt artificial, the woman in the bed a stranger. Was he to be forced… At once, he stiffened. It was thanks to her that he had his chance. He wouldn’t shirk his duty, not like his father had. Quietly, he walked over and added wood to the dying fire. He drew the ancient curtains over the windows and stepped softly from the room.
    Entering the dining room, Jamie received the reproaches he’d been expecting when Selina Newton waylaid him.
    â€œClare is asleep,” the older woman said. “I’ve ordered that she not be disturbed for dinner.” She waited a moment, then added, “I hope you know that her reception here was shameful.”
    Jamie bristled at the word. He knew he was in the wrong, but her judgment seemed harsh. And he didn’t see why she should be handing out reproaches in his household. “I realize I should not have ridden ahead,” he answered stiffly.
    â€œIndeed.” Selina eyed the man who had pledged to honor and keep her young friend. Handsome, yes. Spirited and capable of charm, no doubt. A dangerous spark in his dark eyes at being chided. None of that mattered to her. He needed to learn that this was no way to treat his wife.
    â€œYou have my apologies for the poor greeting,” Jamie managed.
    â€œYou need to apologize to Clare .”
    â€œI shall .”
    â€œSplendid.”
    After that exchange, dinner was an uncomfortable meal. Selina was surprised to find that Lord Trehearth’s sisters joined them at table, despite their tender age. They had, at least, exchanged their unacceptable attire for dresses, though they squirmed in them and plucked at tight sleeves and bodices. Clearly, the garments had been made when the girls were smaller. Selina made a few attempts at polite conversation, but the master of the house offered only minimal replies, and the twins looked sullen and said nothing. The roast was underdone and the potatoes cooked to sludge. The host continually refilled his wineglass. Selina was very glad to escape the family board and retire to her bedchamber for an early night.
    ***
    Clare slept soundly right through the evening and the night, not stirring until early morning light filtered through the threadbare curtains. She woke much refreshed and very hungry. Throwing back the covers, she was struck by the chill of the room. The fire had nearly died. Hurrying over the cold floorboards, she shifted the fire screen and stirred the coals, then added logs from the bin beside the fireplace. As the flames sprang back, she splashed her face and hands with cold water remaining in the can from last night. It would have been so pleasant to have a cup of early tea, but she didn’t blame Mrs. Pendennis for the lack. At her age, and with the size of place, it was no wonder the house was without amenities. One of Clare’s first tasks was obviously hiring staff to help her.
    Dressed, she went downstairs in search of breakfast. She was wondering which way to turn to find the kitchen when her new husband’s twin sisters stepped out of a doorway and into her path, spreading out in an obvious ambush. They were still dressed as boys, and their long black hair fell in tangles down their backs. Did they never brush it? Not quite recovered from the surprise of discovering their existence, Clare began a greeting.
    â€œWe are not going to be made to wear dresses,” said one of them.
    Clare noticed the tiny mole. It was Tamsyn.
    â€œOr make boring ‘polite conversation,’” said Tegan.
    â€œOr