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

could be different between herself and her husband, but she had no idea how to bring about such a change. When she’d tried to seduce him aboard the train he’d laughed at her. When he’d wanted to chase after his mistress, and Melissa had exhibited normal jealousy, he’d gotten angry.
    Melissa didn’t have the first clue how to please Quinn. For that matter, she wasn’t certain that he deserved to bepleased. She held her chin at a regal angle while he helped her down from the carriage and led her up the walk by one hand.
    The late afternoon sun was blazing, making a spectacle of itself in the western sky. Melissa philosophized to herself that it was always brightest just before dark.
    Quinn’s front door was so beautiful as to be a work of art in itself. It was made of some rich, dark wood, intricately carved, and the huge oval window in its center was a design in multicolored stained glass. Melissa peered at it in interest, but before she could ask a single question Quinn turned the knob, opened the door, and fairly hurled her through it.
    A tiny, white-haired woman wearing a housekeeper’s somber sateen garb was waiting in the entryway, hands clasped together in front of her, lips pursed, dark eyes wide.
    “Mrs. Wright,” Quinn began somberly, his hand gripping Melissa’s elbow now, “this is my wife.”
    Mrs. Wright took in the state of Melissa’s hair and attire with barely hidden horror, but she executed a half curtsy all the same and said, “Welcome, Mrs. Rafferty.”
    Melissa nodded in response. “Mrs. Wright,” she said.
    Without allowing her so much as a glance at any of the rooms on the first floor, Quinn dragged his bride toward the graciously curving stairs. They had reached the landing when Melissa looked back and saw the muddy tracks they’d left on the carpeting and the expression of despair on Mrs. Wright’s small, wrinkled face.
    First Gillian, now the housekeeper. She wasn’t exactly widening her circle of friends.
    Quinn pulled Melissa down the hallway to a room sealed with towering double doors, which he flung open. The room was large enough to accommodate a massive bed of carved teak, two armoires, and a desk. At the far end was a fireplace with two barrel-back chairs and a long settee facing it, and beside the window stood a liquor cabinet. On the opposite side of the chamber was a door that she supposed must lead to a private bath.
    Melissa grasped the implications only too well. “This is your room,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
    Quinn had gone directly to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a drink and took a restorative sip before he bothered to comment. “That it is, Mrs. Rafferty,” he said, lifting a crystal snifter in wry salute.
    “We agreed—”
    “I know what we agreed,” Quinn broke in. He paused long enough to take another gulp from his brandy. “But when we struck that particular bargain, Mrs. Rafferty, you hadn’t taken a stand against my having a mistress.”
    Melissa suppressed an urge to stomp one foot in outrage. Control. She must learn to control her emotions. “You might have guessed how I felt—I told you why I left Ajax.”
    Quinn spread his hands. “This is not a love match, Melissa—we both know that.” Behind him, through one of the room’s three large windows, Melissa saw the red-gold glow of the sun on the bare and gaunt limbs of the trees that stood in his front yard. “Why do you care what I do?”
    Melissa’s lower lip trembled. She was tired and hungry, and she didn’t feel well, and now she was expected to carry on this irritating conversation. “I won’t be shamed, Quinn Rafferty,” she answered in a near-whisper that was nonetheless sharp with warning. “I won’t have people snickering and saying that I can’t hold my husband.”
    He smiled and availed himself of more of the brandy. “Ah, so it’s pride that motivates you. I should have known.” He paused and gestured toward the bed, which was the biggest