Page 58 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

“I am offering ye nae a thing, ye arrogant bastard,” she snapped, deeply regretting having touched Valeran. It had made her vulnerable to him.

“I wonder if you’re aware how sultry and enticing your voice is when you slip into that delightful Scottish brogue of yours. It has the power to bring a man to his knees.”

Her heart pounded in her chest so fast she found it difficult to breathe. Had Valeran just said her voice possessed the ability to bring a man to his knees? Elation raced through her at the compliment. It was obliterated a moment later when she realized he’d not included himself as one of those men.

Unwilling to say another word until she regained control of her senses, her gaze fell on the bottle of wine within arm’s reach. Without hesitation she reached for it, and poured herself a glass of the alcohol. It might be against etiquette, but she needed something to take the edge off her frayed nerves.

“As much as it pains me,” he said with a scowl of aggravation. “It would be helpful if you would oblige me by pouring a glass of wine for me, too. It’s one of the more challenging tasks I struggle to master.”

Without responding, Amalie poured Valeran a glass of wine, then took a deep swig of the beverage from her glass. She took two bites of the small amount of food she’d added to her plate, then washed it down with more wine. By the time she’d eaten everything on her plate, she was on her fourth glass of wine.

“Would you like more steak pie?”

“No, thank you.” Pleased she’d managed to bring her refined speech back into play, she took another drink of wine.

“Perhaps some Dundee cake?”

“No. I’m quite full.” The clipped reply made him frown with puzzlement.

“But you’ve barely touched your plate this evening, and I heard Lady Argaty admonish you for hardly touching your lunch.”

“If I had wanted more…I…would have….put more…on my plate,” she stammered, her tongue suddenly feeling heavy in her mouth.

“Christ, Amalie, even as blind as I am, I can see you’ve only eaten a few bites of what little you did put on your plate.”

Something about his irritated chastisement made her realize her husband was concerned for her. The fact startled her. Was it possible he was worried she’d walk away hungry? Amalie’s heart softened for a split second, then hardened as the memory of that afternoon in Rules filled her head. She dragged in a deep breath of pain and took another drink of wine before waving her hand at him.

“If ye are done with your… meal…would ye kindly leave? I’d like tae go tae bed.”

“Will you be able to undress without help?”

The quiet question held not even a hint of seduction or innuendo. Under normal circumstances, she probably would have seen it as a silent request as to whether he needed to send for one of the servants to assist her. But nothing about today had been normal. God, she wanted him to leave so she could drink what was left of the wine and sink into oblivion.

No, Amalie. You want him to leave before you fling yourself into his arms.

“I could—” The moment he spoke, his voice punctured its way through the calm she’d been struggling to maintain.

“I dinnae need ye tae act as a lady’s maid, Lord Sommerville.”

If the bastard thought playing the thoughtful husband would gain him access to her bed, he was wrong. Palms angrily connecting with the table, the white tablecloth barely dulled the crack her hands made against the surface. Furious that he was toying with her, Amalie sprang to her feet and instantly felt lightheaded.

Determined to remain standing, she closed her eyes, hoping the two versions of Valeran that had suddenly appeared before her would become one. After a moment, she looked to see if the two husbands still seated at the table had become one. They hadn’t.

“Ye are a fecking bampot, Amalie Rockwood,” she muttered.

She heard a sound roll out of Valeran. No doubt, horrified by her language. Why the hell did she care? The room continued to spin around her, even after breathing a deep breath and releasing it with her eyes closed.

“Bugger it.”

Another sound rumbled in Valeran’s chest. The warmth of it swirled in the air, and she wanted it to be a blanket she could wrap around her. Unable to remain standing, Amalie flopped back down into her chair. She had no intention of collapsing at her husband’s feet. At some point in the future, he’d enjoy pointing out how she’d fallen in front of him on their wedding night like a supplicant worshiping her master.

Unfortunately, sitting down was of little help either. She barely managed to remain upright in her chair, and she reached out to brace her hands on the table, hoping it would help keep her from sliding off her seat onto the floor. Resigned to yielding to him tonight after all, Amalie waved her hand in the air.

“Well, Sommerville…if ye intend tae claim your plump little country mouse…now is as good a time as any. The wine has me blootered and I’ll nae object.”

Valeran rose to his feet in a fluid movement. Damn, if only she could move that fast right now. She was an eejit for drinking so much. But at least he was leaving, and she could find her way to bed and sleep in peace. Satisfaction had barely settled in her limbs when her husband scooped her up out of her chair and strode confidently to the large four-poster bed. Startled, she squealed a protest.

“Hush, wife.”