Falling in Love Again by Cathy Maxwell Read Free Book Online Page B

emotions. If she’d held one of the huge broadswords that hung over the mantel in Craige Castle, she’d have found the strength to circle it high over her head and cut John Barron in half. She might even have done a jig over his body parts.
    Instead, she settled for delivering a stinging slap to his face, hard enough to force him to take a step back.
    The crowd’s laughter stopped abruptly on a shocked gasp.
    John raised a hand to his jaw while Lady Ramsgate stepped protectively in front of him. Ina voice full of dramatic outrage, she announced, “I must ask you to leave immediately.”
    This was not how Mallory had imagined her first meeting with John.
    But she wasn’t about to cry, “Quarter.” Not now.
    Of course, she realized, she might have gone too far. Perhaps her mother had been right. She should have stayed at the inn and waited until John answered the notes she’d sent requesting an audience.
    But he was her husband! She shouldn’t have to wait for his summons like an indentured servant. Besides, she didn’t have time for this nonsense. She wanted Craige Castle returned to her! She had fields of wheat to make ready for the harvest. She couldn’t spend precious days cooling her heels in an inn, waiting for her lord.
    Her impervious glare, which had put many a saucy milkmaid in her place, sent the lush Lady Ramsgate back a step. “I wish a word with my husband—alone,” Mallory said, proud that her voice didn’t shake.
    The angry red imprint of her fingers against his hard jaw deeply embarrassed her. Only through sheer will and determination was she able to meet his eyes. What she saw there caught her by surprise.
    The devil was enjoying this!
    She was creating a scene that would make them the talk of London for a fortnight, yet in the clear, sharp depths of his eyes she saw humor. For an instant the memory of their wedding night somany years ago rippled through her like wind across water. The hopes, the dreams, the fears….
    And then, just as quickly, those memories vanished as the corners of his mouth twisted cynically. His eyes never left Mallory’s as he said, “You’ll excuse us, won’t you, Sarah? My—” He hesitated slightly as if to savor the next word, “ wife and I want to be alone.”
    Mallory panicked.
    When had his voice turned so deep, so resonant, so authoritative? And he must have grown a foot in height, even from a moment ago, when her anger had propelled her forward.
    He moved closer to her now, too close, almost as if he were challenging her. Mallory stood her ground but discovered she was reluctant to meet those too-perceptive eyes. Instead, she stared at the fine weave of his jacket, the crisp, snowy folds of his neck cloth. She could even smell the starch in the fine lawn of his shirt and a warm, spicy, masculine scent that was like a breath of fresh air in the smoky room.
    This was something she definitely remembered from her wedding day—this intense awareness of him.
    He placed his hand on her shoulder…a stranger’s hand, she realized with a start—large, well-formed, capable. Mallory felt as if she’d swallowed a bubble and couldn’t breathe. She remembered so much, suddenly, in that touch—
    Her senses screamed a warning.
    And then her feet left the ground! Before sheknew what he was about, John Barron swung her easily up into his arms amid a flurry of skirts and petticoats.
    The crowd roared its approval.
    â€œHadley,” John said to a dark-haired man standing close to Lady Ramsgate, “lend me your carriage.”
    â€œOf course, Craige. I’d be honored,” Hadley answered, and with a click of his fingers, signaled a servant to hurry from the parlor to fetch the conveyance.
    â€œWhat do you think you are doing?” Mallory demanded, the very second she could catch her breath long enough to speak.
    John looked down at her with laughing eyes.