Page 26 of A Raven Reformed

She let out a long sigh. “I think it was a whole host of things, really. I just don’t feel like I fit in your world.” She looked up into his eyes. “I’m an orphan, Michael. I was raised by servants. I’m only a lady because you married me. I’m American, so I don’t even sound like any of you. Add to that the glasses of champagne I had, and it all just became a jumble of melancholy I suppose.”

His brows dropped ominously. “Did someone say something to make you feel that way?”

“No.” She placed her hand on his chest. “They were all perfectly kind and welcoming. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“The ladies are all so perfect and beautiful. They carry themselves with decorum that I just don’t possess, and they know how to run grand households. They talk about the weather, and I don’t even know that this is a warm autumn because it feels so cold compared to Virginia.”

“Belle, you charm everyone you meet.” He gently rubbed a thumb over her eyebrow and then her cheekbone. “You are sweet, caring, and more beautiful than any of them. What will help you to feel more comfortable around them? Do you need new gowns? More jewels perhaps? I am happy to provide anything you want.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think any of that really matters.” She thought for a moment. “You didn’t really get to choose the wife you might have, and I just hope you’re not disappointed or embarrassed of me.”

“Embarrassed of you? What part of ‘you saved me’ and ‘you’re the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me’ do you not understand? I meant every word of both of those statements.”

She squealed as he pulled her on top of him. “Not to mention,”—he gripped her bottom with both hands—“this backside is the most incredible derriere I have ever laid eyes upon… or hands.” He gave her a firm smack.

“Thank you, Michael.” She pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. “For being such a kind husband, even if it did take me a while to realize it.”

He chuckled and rolled her off of him. “We need to get out of this bed before I decide to ravish you again.” He grasped her chin before she could turn away. “But you do need to apologize to Lord Bexley. I still won’t tolerate rudeness.”

Belle swallowed. For some reason, his firm commands had become as comforting to her as his softness. “Yes, my lord.”

ChapterEight

Michael accepted the loaded shotgun. How was he ever going to hit a single clay pigeon when all he could think about was the way it felt to have his wife’s fingers wrapped around his manhood?

“Married life suits you, Dalinridge,” Lord Bexley said, as if he knew exactly where Michael’s thoughts had been. The whole group of men guffawed off to the side as he prepared to take his shot.

He pulled himself together and managed to shatter both of his pigeons. “You’re going to have to try harder than that to throw me off my game, Bexley. I plan to win this one.”

“He’s not wrong,” Lord Epworth said as Michael joined the group and Ash took his turn shooting. “You’re positively beaming with contentment.”

Warmth bloomed in his neck and cheeks. Was he blushing? “What can I say? I married a wonderful woman.”

Not surprisingly, Ash hit both of his pigeons without any hesitation. He came to stand next to Michael as Lord Epworth stepped up to take his turn. He nudged him, moving him surreptitiously away from the group. He leaned in and spoke close to Michael’s ear. “You should know, there are rumors circulating amongst your staff, that you are abusing her.”

Never mind how Ash knew what was circulating among Michael’s staff. Somehow, he always knew everything. “I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Abusing who?”

Ash looked at him as if he were an idiot. “Your wife.”

“Excuse me?” Michael raised his voice, forgetting they’d been whispering.

“Nice shot,” Ash shouted, clapping his hands to draw attention away from Michael’s outburst.

It was Michael’s turn to shoot again, so he reluctantly walked away from their conversation. He stepped up and took his gun, his mind still reeling with the accusation. How could anyone think he was abusing Belle? He was so distracted that his shot barely clipped the side of the disc, sending it hurtling off course, but it didn’t shatter. A loud crack sounded in the distance as something tore through his arm, knocking him off balance. Burning pain erupted on the outside of his arm as he stumbled, dropping his gun and landing hard on his backside.

Chaos ensued as the other men swarmed him, cursing and questions bombarding his ears. His brain was still struggling to catch up with what was happening. He looked down at the pain in his arm. Blood was seeping through a tear in his coat sleeve. Had he been shot? How was that possible?

Someone was tugging his coat off, his sleeve was ripped wide open, and Ash examined the wound.

“He’ll live,” he said to Patrick and then he barked a few orders before the two of them sprinted in the direction where the shot had sounded.

Michael shook himself. “It’s nothing serious,” he assured the men crowded around him. Epworth and Bexley helped him to his feet. He still wasn’t steady, perhaps because of the shock of it all, so he leaned gratefully on them as they assisted him to a nearby chair.

“Don’t worry,” Epworth said. “We’ve sent for a doctor.”

“I’m sure I don’t need a doctor.”

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