Page 9 of A Raven Reformed

She lifted her chin and boldly met his gaze. “I don’t think I will.” She turned to leave, but he had her upper arm in a firm grip before she made it even three paces from the table.

“Leave us, Pearson.” The butler gave barely a nod before exiting and closing the door behind him.

Michael snatched the plate from her hand and placed it back on the table. “I told you to sit.

She gave him a hostile glare. “And I said no.” She spat the words contemptuously, and his mood veered sharply toward anger.

“Whether you like it or not, Annabelle, you are my wife now, and you will obey me.” She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp.

“Or what?” she challenged, the words laced with ridicule.

“Or I’ll put you over my knee.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, immediately calling his bluff.

He leaned in, his lips nearly grazing her ear. “Never call the bluff of someone who owns a gaming hell. He might not be bluffing.”

With his free hand, he spun the dining chair around. She gasped as he pulled her face down across his lap and locked her squirming body in place with an arm around her waist. He reached down and threw the hem of her skirts toward her head. Her backside was only half protected by her split drawers, and even in his moment of anger, it was a glorious sight. He brought his hand down with two quick cracks.

She went completely still as redness began to bloom on the visible part of her bottom. Jesus! What the hell was he doing? Without thinking, he gently rubbed the pinkened skin, to try to soothe her, and a soft whimper escaped her lips.

He was a vile bloody cad.

He put her on her feet and set her away from him, wishing he could take back his actions. Her eyes were wide and disoriented, and tears trembled at the corners. A long, painful silence stretched between them until she finally turned and ran from him.

“Annabelle, I’m sorry,” he called after her.

She turned, tears now running freely down her cheeks. “My name is Belle.” She hauled the door open and disappeared.

Well, at least her name was fitting for the occasion, because he had certainly acted the beast. Christ, what had he done? She must be scared half to death. How could he ever possibly repair the damage he’d just done?

He ground the heels of his hands against his eyes as guilt ravaged his heart. If he was in London right now, he would go to a boxing ring and let someone beat him to a pulp to at least make himself feel better. But here, the disdain was going to eat him alive. In the before days, he would have simply drunk himself into oblivion, but he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol in more than a decade. Besides, neither of those options would actually helpherafter what he’d done. He stretched his neck and tried to push down the anger that boiled within him. He’d been a heavy-handed brute, and he needed to do something to try to make it better. At the very least, he needed to apologize.

Slowly, he made his way up to her chambers. As he approached, the door swung open and Mrs. Ingram marched out, shutting it with a heavy thud behind her. She glared at him but said not a word as she huffed past him. No more than he deserved.

With a heavy sigh, he knocked softly on the door. “Go away!” Belle shouted from within. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to do that.

He entered the room slowly, trying to be as unthreatening as possible, but she still scurried behind the chair she’d been sitting in, putting the piece of furniture between them as a shield.

“Have you come to beat me some more?” Her reddened eyes were wide with alarm and her chest heaved with her labored breathing.

The words were like a punch to the gut. A punch he very much deserved. “No,” he said quietly, having a sudden idea of how he might be able to at least make her feel better. “I’ve come to give you the opportunity to hit me back.” Her head jerked and she took a step back.

“What is this?” Her voice was thick with skepticism, and he didn’t blame her. It sounded ridiculous even to his own ears.

“It is just what I said. It’s not a trick or a trap.” He shed his coat, waistcoat, and tie, draping them over a chair, and stepped slowly toward the center of the room. “I won’t try to stop you, and I won’t retaliate in any way.”

Even in the dim light he could see the suspicion in her eyes. “I know it isn’t worth much to you, but you have my word.” He closed his eyes and clasped his hands in front of his manhood, just in case, and then he waited. Minutes passed in complete silence before he finally heard a single, hesitant step. After a moment, more footsteps followed until they stopped just in front of him.

Another minute or two passed before his chest was finally met with a small, tentative swat. Michael didn’t move or open his eyes, and eventually, it happened again. And then again, a bit harder each time.

“It isn’t fair,” she cried, her fist pounding into his chest.

“You took everything from me.” She continued to punch him, each one punctuating another grievance.

“My home, my friends, Isaac, everything.”

Isaac. That must be the man who held her heart.

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