Read Online Her Scottish Groom by Ann Stephens - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ann Stephens
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invariably joined the other gentlemen in the saloon for afterdinner brandies.
When she heard his cabin door close behind him each night, she could not repress a twinge of jealousy. She comforted herself with the knowledge that Senhora Henriques was not permitted to enter the saloon during the after-dinner hours either.
* * *
She recorded her impressions of the voyage in a thin composition book she had smuggled into one of her trunks. The first time Kieran had walked in while she wrote at their small dining table, she had tried unsuccessfully to hide it. To her amazement, he neither confiscated it nor insisted she stop. Just to be safe, she secreted it in the lining of her trunk during the day.
He did not approach her bedroom at all, although she became used to the touch of his hand on her arm and at the small of her back as they strolled along the railing. All in all, she thought their marriage off to as good a start as she could expect. Until the day they docked in Halifax.
While the ship took on supplies and mail, she and Florette took a turn around the deck in the chill Canadian air. Returning to her bedroom, Diantha idly thumbed through a packet of congratulatory telegrams delivered with their mail while Florette unpacked a dress for her to wear to dinner that night.
His lordship had received a large packet of mail as well, and had begged off their daily walk to go through it. He had appropriated the dining room table, as he needed room to write replies.
When Kieran did appear in her doorway, she looked up in surprise. In the stuffy suite, he had removed his frock coat and neckcloth.
She could not help noticing how well his vest clung to his torso as it narrowed to his hips. Aware that she had been nearly ogling him, she raised her gaze to his face. “Are you finished already?”
“Not yet. May I have a word with you?” Despite the civil words, his eyes blazed with anger. Curtly ordering Florette to leave their quarters, he grabbed her arm and pulled her through their dressing room to the dining room.
She faced him as soon as he shut the dining room door behind them. “What do you mean by dismissing my maid?”
“What do I mean? What the hell do you think you’re about, you conniving little jade?” A vein beat at his temple as he shouted.
She started and moved to place the solid table between them. “Kieran—your lordship—what have I done?” She grasped its edge so he would not see her shaking hands.
His voice dropped to a quiet even more frightening than his raised voice. “What have you done?” He tossed a crumpled piece of paper onto the table’s surface. It bounced off a pile of papers to land by her hand. “Why don’t you explain to me?”
Afraid to take her eyes off him, she picked it up and unfolded it. Her father had sent him a telegram. As she read, her knees buckled.
Papa not only demanded an apology from Kieran for his insolence the day they left, he wanted to know why he had not consummated the marriage, voiced in terms so blunt that she gasped in shame.
Lifting her gaze to Kieran’s, she sought words to assuage his wrath. “I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this. Why are you blaming me?” Her voice shook in spite of her attempt to control it.
Eyes blazing aqua, he leaned in to her across the table. “Of all the brass-faced lies I’ve heard, that has to be the biggest. You cannot think I am stupid enough to believe you didn’t go crying to your father over me.”
She stood her ground, her own wrath igniting. “You arrogant stuffed shirt! As if you would be worth my breath to complain about!”
“Don’t change the subject!” He snatched the hapless wad of paper and, coming around the table, backed her up to the wall. “He’s talking about intimate details that happened
in our bedroom!
My God, and I thought your mother had no shame.” He raised the hand clutching the paper.
Diantha instantly collapsed against the panels, arms flying up to protect her
When she heard his cabin door close behind him each night, she could not repress a twinge of jealousy. She comforted herself with the knowledge that Senhora Henriques was not permitted to enter the saloon during the after-dinner hours either.
* * *
She recorded her impressions of the voyage in a thin composition book she had smuggled into one of her trunks. The first time Kieran had walked in while she wrote at their small dining table, she had tried unsuccessfully to hide it. To her amazement, he neither confiscated it nor insisted she stop. Just to be safe, she secreted it in the lining of her trunk during the day.
He did not approach her bedroom at all, although she became used to the touch of his hand on her arm and at the small of her back as they strolled along the railing. All in all, she thought their marriage off to as good a start as she could expect. Until the day they docked in Halifax.
While the ship took on supplies and mail, she and Florette took a turn around the deck in the chill Canadian air. Returning to her bedroom, Diantha idly thumbed through a packet of congratulatory telegrams delivered with their mail while Florette unpacked a dress for her to wear to dinner that night.
His lordship had received a large packet of mail as well, and had begged off their daily walk to go through it. He had appropriated the dining room table, as he needed room to write replies.
When Kieran did appear in her doorway, she looked up in surprise. In the stuffy suite, he had removed his frock coat and neckcloth.
She could not help noticing how well his vest clung to his torso as it narrowed to his hips. Aware that she had been nearly ogling him, she raised her gaze to his face. “Are you finished already?”
“Not yet. May I have a word with you?” Despite the civil words, his eyes blazed with anger. Curtly ordering Florette to leave their quarters, he grabbed her arm and pulled her through their dressing room to the dining room.
She faced him as soon as he shut the dining room door behind them. “What do you mean by dismissing my maid?”
“What do I mean? What the hell do you think you’re about, you conniving little jade?” A vein beat at his temple as he shouted.
She started and moved to place the solid table between them. “Kieran—your lordship—what have I done?” She grasped its edge so he would not see her shaking hands.
His voice dropped to a quiet even more frightening than his raised voice. “What have you done?” He tossed a crumpled piece of paper onto the table’s surface. It bounced off a pile of papers to land by her hand. “Why don’t you explain to me?”
Afraid to take her eyes off him, she picked it up and unfolded it. Her father had sent him a telegram. As she read, her knees buckled.
Papa not only demanded an apology from Kieran for his insolence the day they left, he wanted to know why he had not consummated the marriage, voiced in terms so blunt that she gasped in shame.
Lifting her gaze to Kieran’s, she sought words to assuage his wrath. “I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this. Why are you blaming me?” Her voice shook in spite of her attempt to control it.
Eyes blazing aqua, he leaned in to her across the table. “Of all the brass-faced lies I’ve heard, that has to be the biggest. You cannot think I am stupid enough to believe you didn’t go crying to your father over me.”
She stood her ground, her own wrath igniting. “You arrogant stuffed shirt! As if you would be worth my breath to complain about!”
“Don’t change the subject!” He snatched the hapless wad of paper and, coming around the table, backed her up to the wall. “He’s talking about intimate details that happened
in our bedroom!
My God, and I thought your mother had no shame.” He raised the hand clutching the paper.
Diantha instantly collapsed against the panels, arms flying up to protect her
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