“Perhaps an opportunity for you as well.”
He laughed darkly, and it sent a shiver down her spine. Her normally smiling husband scowled at her. He strode towards her until he was a breath away from her. “Do you think I care what your world thinks of me?”
She wanted to believe he didn’t. She tilted her chin up to stare at him. “I think it would be beneficial for you to have a wife that is the daughter of a lord.”
He scoffed. He leaned so close that his lips grazed her ear. “I don’t need to brag to some wastrel lords that my wife is a lady.”
His closeness sent a thrill through her. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed that he was so tempting even in the middle of a heated argument.
“Believe it or not Clara, had I wanted to marry a lady, I could have found one before I ever laid eyes on you. There are plenty of ladies more than willing to look past my common background.”
She stepped back, needing to put some space between them. Her body shook with jealousy, and she fell back on her old coldness. “There is a difference between a lady enjoying your time and marrying you.”
The fury fell from his face, and he looked like she had slapped him. He turned and made his way back to his side of the table. His expression was cold and hard. He said nothing and Clara knew that their conversation had taken a turn that would be hard to come back from. He lifted his glass and drank deeply before setting it down quietly.
“My Ice Princess wife. How fortunate I am to have wed you.”
She gasped, hurt that he had used the nickname she hated so much and that he had done it, intentionally. Trying to defuse the situation, she said softly, “Sam, let's not fight.”
“Let’s not fight!” he roared.
Clara flinched but stood staring back at him. “Here I thought there was something besides ice in those veins of yours. I guess it shouldn’t matter. As you pointed out I at least have a lady as a wife.”
He headed toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Clara asked.
“To find some warmth. I won’t find it here,” he snapped, throwing the door open and storming down the hallway.
Clara walked over to her chair and fell back into it. What had she done? Her mother in a matter of days had made her question everything she felt about Sam. She wanted to chase him down, but she didn’t. She was too proud to. She squared her shoulders and looked at the staff who were coming back in. “Please bring in the next course.”
~
Sam sat in his study staring into the fire. He wanted to hate Clara, but he couldn’t. It had been hours since he left her at dinner, and he sat there worried about her. He should send her off to the country and resume his life. He closed his eyes as he heard her soft footsteps getting closer to his study. Sam didn’t want to fight with her anymore. He hoped she would continue on. A tentative knock at the door told him he would have no such luck.
“Come in,” he said darkly.
She was breathtaking. Her blonde hair half tied up with the rest swirling around her shoulder. Her dress hugged her slender waist. She stared at him with her round blue eyes. Eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.
“What is it, Clara?”
She made her way over to him where he sat behind his desk. He felt his body respond to her closeness. She was his temptation.
“I don’t want us to be like this. What does it matter why we are here or together?”
Her words were like a stab to his heart. He loved her, and yet she thought their marriage was some fun he agreed to, so he could look good among the ton. She was so beautiful. He grabbed her hips and positioned her against his desk, between his sprawled-out legs.
“You are so beautiful. Men have always talked about you as this untouchable ethereal being, but I never wanted that, Clara.”
His hands skimmed over her hip, and she closed her eyes briefly before opening them back up. They were filled with desire.
“What did you want?” she asked hoarsely.
“Just you. Not the picture you present to everyone. There is so much more to you than the Ice Princess persona.”
She sighed and sat on the desk. His feelings for her would drive him mad. He could not continue to be around her. She made him question everything, and he was tired of waiting around for her to grow tired of being his wife. Yes, he needed distance from her, but he was driven to touch her. He drank his brandy as he ran his hand up her leg, over her stockings, and along her thin knickers. She took a deep breath, and he smiled at her charmingly.
His hand continued to travel up along the top of her thigh. “Do you think we would have met had I not found you in that alcove that night at Adderly’s house party?”
