Bryght had honestly forgotten, having since found out exactly where her brother was. He tried to put together some sort of truth. “I did send a man to Dorset, but as your brother isn’t here, he can’t have been found in time.”
“Ah well,” she said with ominous sweetness. “Since we are to go to Overstead on our wedding trip, I will doubtless see him then.”
Oh no. Bryght remembered speaking of traveling to Dorset, but he had no intention of dealing with the problem of Oliver Upcott until he had thoroughly won his bride.
“I do have some news from Dorset,” he said. “Apparently your mother and sister have gone to visit relatives in Manchester. We had best go there for our wedding journey.”
She looked so distressed at that news that he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. There were a number of dangerous weapons close to her hand, however, including a heavy statuette and a poker, so he desisted.
Then she raised her chin in the fighting gesture so typical of her. “We can send my mother a letter. I prefer to go to Overstead on the chance that Oliver is there.”
“We can sendhima letter,” he countered.
“I want to go to Overstead.”
Just as firmly, he said, “No.”
When she drew in breath to object, he said, “Remember those vows to obey? We are going north, wife. And,” he added, seeing rebellion flash in her eyes, “if you try to go alone, I will drag you back by the hair.”
She hissed with rage and tried to sweep past him, but he caught her arm and when she struggled he tightened his grip. “We will send a message to Dorset. There is absolutely no reason for you to go there.” He could feel dangerous anger licking at his control.
“Perhaps I simply want to and am used to doing as I want.”
“The name for that, madam wife, is spoiled.”
Her eyes flashed fire. “Then you, my lord, are spoiled beyond redemption.”
He dragged her into his arms. “Am I? Then perhaps I should take what I want. We’ve made love on the floor in front of a fire before, haven’t we?”
She fought for a moment then went rigid. “I suppose you think you have the right now, regardless of my wishes.”
It was like a shower of icy water and he took a steadying breath. He forced her chin up, but gently, so she had to look at him. “Why are we fighting, Portia? What do you want?”
He saw his own bewildered pain reflected in her eyes. “I want to go to Overstead.”
Pain was swamped by furious incomprehension. He’d never seen any sign in her before of this sort of mulishness. He knew she wasn’t always sensible in her rage, but was reminded that he didn’t know her very well.
She was high-spirited, rash, and brave. Was she also irrationally stubborn and demanding? He couldn’t take her to Overstead where she might learn that her brother had been kidnapped by the Mallorens.
He couldn’t let Oliver go until he’d decided what to do about the situation.
He made a conscious effort to relax and to soothe her. “Portia, your brother might be anywhere. It makes more sense to send a messenger to find him and for us to go north to see your mother. I also have business near Manchester with the Duke of Bridgewater.”
“But Fort has promised to save the estate. As soon as my mother and sister have the happy news, they will return home. If we go north, we could cross them on the way. And I’m sure your business can wait.”
Damn. He wasn’t surprised to hear what Fort had done, but he’d wanted to be the knight in shining armor. And her reasoning made altogether too much sense. “I’m afraid my business cannot wait. But we can go to Overstead immediately on our return south.”
She pulled sharply against his hold and he had to hurt her or let her go. He let her go.
“I see you are determined,” she said icily, “and you now have the right to order me as you will. We should return to our guests, my lord. They might begin to think we are up to no good.”
She marched toward the door but waited for him to open it for her. He was tempted to keep her here and try to talk sense into her but, as she said, their absence might have been noted.
There would be time enough later. Time enough tonight, and during a long, leisurely journey to Lancashire to wear down her sense of ill-usage, teach her to trust, and make her completely his.
He opened the door, and as she swept through it to rejoin the reception he noted that she was wearing a serene smile. His courageous Amazon. There were times, however, when he’d rather she were a timid mouse.
He steered her toward some safe family members then passed by Rothgar. “Keep an eye on her, Bey. I’m not at all sure she won’t try to bolt.”
