Read Online Mysty McPartland by My Angel My Hell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: My Angel My Hell
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what.
Through narrowed , furious eyes, he watched the woman clumsily dismount, he swung up into his own saddle, reached out and grabbed his wife’s reins and pulling her horse alongside his, rode away. It was not until they were some distance from her home that he slowed the animals down and he gazed over at her then quickly glanced away not wanting her beauty to distract him.
“If ye think for one moment that ye could have placed that bitch in my bed instead of yeself ye are very much mistaken. And as for what ye did to me last eve, ye have nay only ruined whatever future we could have had, but I’ll never ever trust ye again. Ye went too far, wench, and I will nay forget what ye did to me and dinna think that ye will go unpunished for ye wickedness.” He missed seeing the guilt and sadness that clouded her eyes as he started moving the horse into a faster pace.
Riddled with regret as she listened to his furious chilling words, Dalla forced herself not to cry. She realized now that she went too far with her foolish plan. It was a terrible and childish thing she had done and it would not stop the inevitable, she was his wife and could bed her whenever he wanted.
Even if her cousin did come it would not have stopped him, too late she understood that now. And because of her irrational act the rest of her life would be spent in misery and mistrust. It was a bleak future and, peeking at his cold stern face, realized it would be a very long time if ever that he would forgive her. With her shoulders sagging, she wished that Robert hadn’t been away and could have done something to stop the wedding.
Well , she would just have to accept that it was far too late for the man she loved to rescue her and for wishes. She would just have to face what she had done and the loveless, cold marriage that now lay ahead of her. As the day lengthened her misery increased and it was hard to keep the tears of desolation from falling and the wretchedness sinking into her soul.
Though he was determined not to pay any attentions to his wife, he couldn’t completely ignore her, every now and again he let his gaze sweep over her. Aye, she looked miserable and wretched and so the wench should. He was just too furious and afraid of what he might do to her if he so much as spoke to her.
Oh aye, he was going to punish her, but he didn’t want to lay a hand on her. Never in his life had he ever struck a woman and even though he was tempted to strike her for what she had done, he wouldn’t.
He didn’t even know if he wanted to bed her anymore , he felt so betrayed and disillusioned with her that all he wished now was that he never married her. Nevertheless, they were now husband and wife and before they reached home he was going have to decide how he was going to handle the marriage and her.
All day he contemplated the matter and he knew that what had transpired last eve , it was a fact that he might never be able to forgive her for her evilness. What type of woman would so viciously and callously drug her husband on their wedding night? A malicious and cold-hearted one.
Rage simmered through him so black he could barely contain it. Even hours later, he could not dampen it down. It ate him continuously; he knew though that he would have to find some way to contain it before they stopped for the evening. Because there was no doubt in his mind if he didn’t he would most assuredly regret his actions when he faced her.
Though he intended to punish her, he would do so privately. He drew in a harsh breath and tightened his jaw. She was also insane if she thought for one minute he would accept the red headed trollop replacing her in his head. It was ludicrous . Out the corner of his eyes he spied Duncan approaching and sighing heavily waited for him to arrive and find out what was bothering his friend.
“Do ye nay think we should stop, Tarrel? Ye wife is about to fall from her saddle so worn out is she.” Duncan’s gaze, shifted from
Through narrowed , furious eyes, he watched the woman clumsily dismount, he swung up into his own saddle, reached out and grabbed his wife’s reins and pulling her horse alongside his, rode away. It was not until they were some distance from her home that he slowed the animals down and he gazed over at her then quickly glanced away not wanting her beauty to distract him.
“If ye think for one moment that ye could have placed that bitch in my bed instead of yeself ye are very much mistaken. And as for what ye did to me last eve, ye have nay only ruined whatever future we could have had, but I’ll never ever trust ye again. Ye went too far, wench, and I will nay forget what ye did to me and dinna think that ye will go unpunished for ye wickedness.” He missed seeing the guilt and sadness that clouded her eyes as he started moving the horse into a faster pace.
Riddled with regret as she listened to his furious chilling words, Dalla forced herself not to cry. She realized now that she went too far with her foolish plan. It was a terrible and childish thing she had done and it would not stop the inevitable, she was his wife and could bed her whenever he wanted.
Even if her cousin did come it would not have stopped him, too late she understood that now. And because of her irrational act the rest of her life would be spent in misery and mistrust. It was a bleak future and, peeking at his cold stern face, realized it would be a very long time if ever that he would forgive her. With her shoulders sagging, she wished that Robert hadn’t been away and could have done something to stop the wedding.
Well , she would just have to accept that it was far too late for the man she loved to rescue her and for wishes. She would just have to face what she had done and the loveless, cold marriage that now lay ahead of her. As the day lengthened her misery increased and it was hard to keep the tears of desolation from falling and the wretchedness sinking into her soul.
Though he was determined not to pay any attentions to his wife, he couldn’t completely ignore her, every now and again he let his gaze sweep over her. Aye, she looked miserable and wretched and so the wench should. He was just too furious and afraid of what he might do to her if he so much as spoke to her.
Oh aye, he was going to punish her, but he didn’t want to lay a hand on her. Never in his life had he ever struck a woman and even though he was tempted to strike her for what she had done, he wouldn’t.
He didn’t even know if he wanted to bed her anymore , he felt so betrayed and disillusioned with her that all he wished now was that he never married her. Nevertheless, they were now husband and wife and before they reached home he was going have to decide how he was going to handle the marriage and her.
All day he contemplated the matter and he knew that what had transpired last eve , it was a fact that he might never be able to forgive her for her evilness. What type of woman would so viciously and callously drug her husband on their wedding night? A malicious and cold-hearted one.
Rage simmered through him so black he could barely contain it. Even hours later, he could not dampen it down. It ate him continuously; he knew though that he would have to find some way to contain it before they stopped for the evening. Because there was no doubt in his mind if he didn’t he would most assuredly regret his actions when he faced her.
Though he intended to punish her, he would do so privately. He drew in a harsh breath and tightened his jaw. She was also insane if she thought for one minute he would accept the red headed trollop replacing her in his head. It was ludicrous . Out the corner of his eyes he spied Duncan approaching and sighing heavily waited for him to arrive and find out what was bothering his friend.
“Do ye nay think we should stop, Tarrel? Ye wife is about to fall from her saddle so worn out is she.” Duncan’s gaze, shifted from
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