Free The French Bride by Evelyn Anthony Page A

further down the table, watching them and unable to hear what had been said. He did not look at his wife again; his head ached and he felt tired and furiously angry, angry with her because she was beautiful enough to rouse in him a kind of irritable desire, angry with his parents who had married him against his will, angry with everyone sitting round them, celebrating and smirking and wishing them well.
    â€˜James.’ Katherine touched her husband’s arm. ‘Have you been watching them?’
    â€˜There’s little point to it, the thing is done.’ He smiled at his wife, trying to give her reassurance. ‘It was a splendid wedding, and if my son can resist a bride like that, then he’s no Macdonald!’
    â€˜He won’t resist her,’ Katherine said. ‘Poor child, I only wish he would! James, James, what have we done? Even for Dundrenan and Clandara, isn’t the price too high for that unhappy girl to pay?’
    â€˜Her heart was set on it,’ he answered. ‘You know it was; she loves him. She was determined to have him, in spite of you and Jean,’ he added. ‘Nothing was forced upon her and our son certainly revealed himself in his most unattractive aspects long before today. We’re going back to Paris tomorrow and we’ll leave them to themselves. Nothing will make Charles behave worse to her than knowing you are watching!’
    â€˜I cannot bear him,’ Katherine said slowly. ‘Can you imagine what it means to a mother to detest her only son? To look at him on his wedding day and not find a single warm feeling towards him in my heart.… Why couldn’t he have been like you?’ she demanded. ‘Why must he take after your brother? Whenever he looks at me, it’s Hugh I see; whenever he laughs, it’s Hugh I hear.…’
    â€˜Yet he’s your son, my love,’ Sir James reminded her. ‘There must be some of you in him, he can’t be all Macdonald.’
    â€˜If there is, it’s too well hidden for anyone to find it,’ she said bitterly. ‘I’m not sure we ought to go to Paris; perhaps we should stay for a time in case Anne needs us.’
    â€˜We are going tomorrow,’ Sir James said gently. ‘It will be best for Anne, I promise you.’
    â€˜And where is my eager bride? In bed already – not asleep, I trust?’
    Anne had been waiting alone in her room for three hours after they had retired from their guests. She had been dressed by her maids in a white nightgown trimmed with four layers of priceless lace, her hair had been brushed out over her shoulders, and she had spent the first hour walking up and down her room, waiting for the sound of steps, waiting for him to come. At last she climbed into the big canopied bed and wept as she had not done since the night after her mother died. Worn out with tears and emotional fatigue, she fell asleep and that was how Charles found her when at last he came into her bedroom. She looked very childish and innocent lying in the middle of the ornate bed, holding one side of the satin pillow in her arms. He stood beside her, and as he watched she moved uneasily, and the movement exposed her pale breasts under the thin gown. He was in his dressing robe and breeches, and he was just drunk enough to be dangerous to anything or anyone that crossed him.
    â€˜Wake up,’ he said loudly. Anne’s eyes opened and then she sat up, drawing the sheets over herself. She looked into the pale mocking face and the narrowed green eyes, and she flushed to her hair.
    â€˜I have waited hours for you,’ she said slowly. ‘Now, I hope you’ll be gentleman enough not to disturb me. I am very tired!’
    â€˜Oh, really so?’ The narrow eyes became slits and there was an angry glitter in them. ‘I married you this morning, my dear cousin, don’t you remember? And I’ve a mind to disturb you, as it happens!’
    She made a