Page 46 of The Charming Words of a Common Scoundrel
“She’s fine,” a familiar voice boomed behind the gaggle of men.
Clara’s eyes widened in surprise as they connected with her husband’s. While everyone else was wearing a mask, her normally jovial husband was maskless and stood glaring at the men surrounding her. He elbowed his way through the gaggle. Most disappeared once they turned and saw who he was. The pirate stayed though, seemingly not concerned that the man pushing his way to her side was her husband. Clara wondered who he was.
The man grinned as if Sam was only a small inconvenience. “Why don’t you back off, Kincaide. I saw her first. We are enjoying ourselves.”
Clara realized the pirate didn’t know who she was.
Sam looked murderous. “Connolly, I suggest you back off,” he whispered.
The man laughed. “What claim do you have to her?”
Clara realized those around them had grown quiet and were all watching them. “She seems to enjoy my company,” the pirate added, bemused.
Sam grabbed him by his cravat and hissed, “She is my wife.”
The pirate laughed. “You’re married.”
He looked at Clara in a slow perusal that caused her to flush and Sam to growl. He chuckled. “Well, this is quite interesting. I will step aside. I wouldn’t want to get in the middle of a fight you are having with your wife.”
The pirate bowed before Clara. “Red Angel, I have to admit this breaks my heart as I believe you may be the loveliest creature at this ball.”
Sam moved to grab him, but the pirate slapped Sam on the shoulder. “Calm down, Kincaide. I’m leaving.”
He disappeared into the crowd. Clara turned to Sam. Her heart thumped wildly as her eyes made contact with his furious ones.
“Come with me now,” he said in a clipped tone.
Clara immediately planted her feet. How dare he speak to her that way. He had not even sent a letter since his departure to Liverpool and now he was commanding her around. Fury blossomed in her chest. “I am fine,” she said.
She looked around; her earlier suitors had disappeared but the crowd around them was still watching, fascinated.
She blushed but took a sip of her drink as if it were completely common to have her scoundrel husband scowling at her maskless in the middle of the Ball of Sin.
He leaned in and whispered, “Clara, so help me if you don’t leave with me now, I will toss you over my shoulder and haul you out of here.”
She glared at him. How dare he? What a bloody heathen. She could do as she pleased. After all, he’d spent weeks up in Liverpool with his mistress.
“Clara,” he said again.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered back, seething, and barely containing all the anger she kept bottled up since he abandoned her in London.
He smiled for the crowd and pulled her close so she could only hear him. “There are many things I would dare to do right now and if you don’t want to see them, I suggest you smile and come with me.”
She leaned back to look up into his smiling face. It was only up close that she could see the fury in his eyes. Her own eyes sparked with fury, and she said in the sweetest tone possible, “As you wish, husband.”
He took Clara’s hand and guided her down the terrace steps, pulling her down a garden path. She could hear the whispers and murmurs as they left. She flushed with anger. If Sam Kincaide thought he could just show up and order her around, he didn’t know how wrong he was.
Chapter 17
Sam pulled Clara along the pathway, neither of them speaking, but he knew she was angry. He could feel it radiating from her. Well, he was damn well angry too. He stopped in front of a cottage known as the Swan House. He knew that this cottage was likely not being used as Devons frequently complained that he could get no man to entertain spending time there. Sam opened the door and immediately understood why. The room was decorated in an extravagant number of feathers with layers and layers of white fabric hanging from every part of the ceiling. He stopped dumbfounded at the sight. At the center of the room laid a bed crafted in the shape of a swan with the neck of the swan reaching toward the ceiling.
He turned to look at Clara who also stared at the room incredulously. Her eyes connected with his and they both giggled. At first, it was just a giggle, but then they both glanced around again and laughed so hard that they were both clutching their stomachs as their shoulders shook with mirth.
Finally, Sam got control of himself and made his way to the fireplace. He leaned down and worked on getting a fire going, saying nothing. He turned around to see Clara seated in a white wing-back chair. She had taken her mask off, and she took his breath away. She was dressed in a vibrant red dress that hugged her slender waist before falling in a swirl of red, both solid and transparent fabric that in some parts seemed to show hints of her slender legs. She took a deep breath, and his eyes ran up thelength of her where the dress scooped down shockingly low, barely concealing her bosom. He made eye contact with her, and she stared back at him, perfectly poised. The sight of her in such a scandalous dress affected him in ways that disconcerted him. He threw off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Her eyes appraised him, and she pursed her lips.
“So, tell me, what made my wife decide to attend the Ball of Sin?”
She sat up a little straighter, though Sam wasn’t sure how she could sit any straighter.
