Free Earls Just Want to Have Fun by Shana Galen Page B

hand, the night was not yet over…
    She’d expected an explosion of pain in her jaw, but he hadn’t hit her. She looked left then right, and noted he’d trapped her between his arms. Perhaps he was a bit more violent than she’d thought. “Listen, you little—”
    She waited. “Hatchet-face?”
    He frowned at her.
    â€œBundle-tail?” She was short enough that she’d been called that a time or two. “Harridan? Romp?”
    â€œAre you helping me insult you?” Suddenly his face lost that dark, angry look, and the expression that replaced it made her far more nervous. She pushed back against the door.
    â€œYou seemed to need help.”
    The hands that had been beside her head, pressed against the door, moved to her cheeks. She jumped at the unexpected warmth of his flesh and the gentleness that was completely foreign to her. “Who would call you all of those names?”
    She couldn’t explain why, but tears stung the backs of her eyes. She didn’t know the last time she had cried, and it was certainly not over anything so low as being called a harridan. She blinked the tears away and pulled his hands off her cheeks. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, though she would have let him touch her more if he’d wanted. No one had ever touched her the way he did. “It’s not your business who called me what, but I promise you, he’ll do far worse to you if you don’t allow me to go.”
    â€œAnd back to this.” He sighed. “Marlowe, listen—”
    â€œNo, Maxwell . You listen.”
    His face went dark and grim again, and she felt the strange tightness in her chest dissipate. Anger she could understand. That soft, pitying expression was to be avoided. And his touch. She could not allow him to touch her ever again.
    â€œDo not call me that,” he ordered.
    She frowned at him. He acted as though she’d insulted him. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”
    â€œYou call me Dane or my lord .”
    â€œI can think of a few other names for you.”
    â€œI’m sure you can, and you may use them at your own risk. But do not call me by my Christian name. Ever.”
    â€œWhy? You call me by mine.”
    â€œBecause it’s my right as your better.”
    She snorted.
    â€œYou and I are not on intimate terms, and we never will be.” He said the last with his face so close to hers she could see the dark ring around the brown of his eyes. So that was why they looked so beautiful. The tightness in her chest was back again, and she pushed at him, increasing the distance between them.
    â€œThat suits me, cove. But if I have to call you my lord , you better call me Miss Marlowe.”
    He gave her a long look. He stared at her for such a length of time that she thought perhaps he’d had some sort of apoplectic fit and could not move again. “You really have no idea who it is you’re dealing with, do you?”
    â€œI—”
    He held up a hand, cutting her off. Ha! And the swells were supposed to be well-mannered. He turned away from her and rubbed a hand over his face. “I will murder Brook for this. It is the middle of the night, and I want to sleep.” He looked back at her. “What do I need to do to be able to sleep?”
    She opened her mouth, and he held up a hand. “Do not say allow you to go. We will discuss it after we break our fast.”
    This was probably the best offer she would receive. She knew it, and she was clever enough not to argue further. “Fine.”
    â€œFine.” He scrubbed his face again. “Now she says fine. Would that we’d saved that hour and a modicum of my sanity. Then let’s go to sleep.”
    â€œI want the bed,” she said. She hadn’t even known she would say it. She certainly hadn’t expected to say it, but the words seemed to rush forward without her permission. He lowered his hands