My Darling Melissa by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

to the driver. “See my wife safely home.”
    Aware that she was about to be abandoned, probably so that Quinn could make amends to the disgruntled Gillian, Melissa struggled with the handle of the carriage door. The vehicle was well underway when she finally got it open. She never made the decision to leap, for the choice was taken out of her hands. While she was gauging her chances of making a safe landing one foot slipped, and she went tumbling unceremoniously into the mud.
    Nervous laughter greeted her from the sidewalk, but Melissa was unconcerned. Two booted feet were striding toward her through the muck as she raised herself. When Quinn reached her and grasped her by her shoulders, Melissa twisted to be free.
    Quinn cursed and then lifted her into his arms. His neck and the lower part of his jaw turned crimson as he strode back to the carriage and put Melissa inside, much to the amusement of the townspeople, which was plain to hear. This time he joined her.
    “I ought to blister you!” he raved in a ferocious undertone when they’d settled on opposite sides of the carriage.
    Melissa was inspecting her filthy calico dress. “I wouldn’t advise that,” she said calmly.
    Quinn folded his arms across his chest. “Well?” he prompted.
    “Well, what?”
    “You got your way—I didn’t send you home alone. Just what exactly did you hope to accomplish by embarrassing me in front of half the town?”
    Melissa sat as straight and regal as a princess on her way to a ball. “We made certain agreements when we decided to marry, Mr. Rafferty. Your panting after Gillian was not part of the bargain.”
    He looked truly insulted. “Panting? I was merely trying to—”
    “You will not keep a mistress, Mr. Rafferty,” Melissawent on as though he hadn’t spoken. “Not as long as you are married to me.”
    “Fine. Then we’ll dispense with the separate bedrooms, and you’ll settle yourself in mine—Mrs. Rafferty.”
    Melissa shook her head. “I’m sorry, that isn’t possible,” she said stiffly.
    Quinn stared at her. “What happened to my eager bride?” he asked. “Are you or are you not the same woman who hurled herself backward onto my bed and demanded that I get on with it?”
    Melissa’s aplomb was crumbling. The scene they’d made in front of the Port Riley depot had been bad enough. “Keep your voice down!” she ordered in an angry whisper.
    “I will not keep my voice down!” Quinn bellowed. “And I’ll thank you to stop telling me what to do and how to do it, woman!”
    In that moment Melissa came undone. Perhaps it was the strain of the past few days; perhaps it was the realization that she’d been incredibly rash. Whatever prompted her, she flung herself at Quinn Rafferty like a hissing, clawing cat.
    He wrestled her into submission with a strange mingling of strength and gentleness, and she found herself lying face up across his lap, her wrists caught in his hands, her sodden, muddy skirts gathered around her thighs.
    Quinn glared at her for a moment, and she thought the amber fire in his eyes would consume her, but in the end it was his mouth that did that. It fell to hers, fiercely tender, threatening to draw the very soul from her.
    She struggled, but then one of his hands closed over her breast, and the kiss deepened. Melissa had lost all desire for battle; she was a willing captive.

Four
    Quinn’s house was large and white, with an English air about it. There was a bay window on the first floor, and dormers lined the second. At one end of the structure was a turret, similar in shape to ones Melissa had seen on castles in Europe.
    Under other circumstances Melissa would have been charmed. As it was, she imagined she’d end up imprisoned in that tower like some fairy-tale princess. The fiery kiss they’d exchanged in the carriage had done nothing to change Quinn’s mood—he was coldly, recalcitrantly furious.
    Melissa felt strange and disgruntled and achy. She wished that things