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Chapter 11 Wedding Night Is It?
“What — do you think you are doing." The words were slow but there was no mistaking the angry tone underlying it.
Emily's heart thudded, and she feared for herself. “Unhand me at once.” She croaked out from suddenly dry lips.
Her words only made his grip tighten more on her wrist, and he pulled her closer. “I don't think you understand me?” he said and asked one more time. “What do you think you are doing?”
For several seconds the words hung in the air. Emily opened her mouth and then closed it. Her face was hot with embarrassment. What do you tell a man who is supposed to be your husband but despises you? What do you tell such a man when he catches you trying to touch him? Merciful Lord, she was in trouble.
Staring at the trembling woman before him, Cole scowled. He had been trying his most damn to pretend he was sleeping, all the while controlling his raging arousal, while she had been busy trying to touch him
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It was a hard fit for Cole to keep his face indifferent as he soundlessly slipped out the bed. Padding the floors of the room in bare feet. His hands clenched by his side. He must have been stupid to think he could arouse Emily without being affected, Cole thought with a bitter smile. Gritting his teeth, he cursed silently. Hoping Emily wouldn't have any need to look at him and notice the force of his arousal, pushing through the seams of his breeches as he made his way to where he had deposited all his clothes last night.Reaching under the chair, Cole roughly snatched his boots from there and wore it. The way he did it, one might think the poor thing had offended him. He did the same with his shirt, snatching it from the back of the chair. It's a wonder it did not snap into two.There was one word for what Cole was feeling at that time and that was frustration. Even though he dare not name it for what it was. Hurriedly Cole stepped out of th
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Emily let out an exasperated breath as she felt the sudden urge to haul something at him. Anything. So long as it can land squarely on his head. Her hand itched to do just that. The nerve of the man to drop her in an unfamiliar ground and threaten to leave. He even acted like it was nothing out of character! And here she was thinking they could settle into an amicable marriage once he had had time to vent his anger.Only if she had known it would result into something like this, she would have strongly protested. Rolled on the floor, if need be, cried until someone at least believed her. Wasn't this the same as being a lonely old maid? The only difference was that she was married, but she will still be living the life of an old maid!Exasperated, Emily folded her hands under her breast and best a steady staccato with her fancy slippers. “I demand to go wherever it is you are going, so step aside, so I can step inside the carriage and do tell the foo
Not Your Average Countess Chapter 14 A Letter From Tonfield Hall
London, England.August, 1832IT HAS BEEN exactly one year since the Earl of Tonfield left his wife at the foot of Blakewood Manor. One might think the time spent apart might have softened his stance on the whole event, but no. There was still some lingering resentment. During that time, the earl had focused on his estate, stables, and all other things, deliberately putting his wife aside. Out of sight, out of mind, and he had been successful until now.Cole Fletcher grabbed his quizzing glass from his drawer and held it over the paper before him. The lights from the candles emitting a low brilliant glow on the ink-stained paper. Against his better judgement, he felt himself smile, as his eyes came to rest on the outrageous price scribbled neatly on the top to bottom of the bill. Cole traced the sum with his finger and laughed out loud. A smile stealing the curve of his lips to one side.
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Leicestershire, England.1832.THE EAST WING drawing room at Tonfield hall was filled with fifteen house guests with more expected to arrive as the day goes by, delayed by either one thing or the other. Emily looked around the clusters of people, the one's standing by the door, the one's seated near the window, on a couch with a gilded scroll end, and the one's trying their hand at a game and smiled.There was a reason she had picked every single one of these guests and sent out an invitation to them. Alexander St. Clair, Earl of Romley was a lover of horses, and if his insistent questions do not bother Cole, then she doesn't know what will. Robert Parsons, Marquess of Bewford was chosen because he had twin sisters. If there was ever any form of mischievousness, she expects it would be those two to start it.Duncan Blackmore, The Marquess of Penslow because he had been pesteri
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COLE CURSED FURIOUSLY under his breath, turned, and marched towards Emily at a pace that almost made her drop her comb and bolt from her chair. Instead, she made herself sit there calmly and await him. The occasional quiver of her hand as she brushed her hair her only sign of agitation.In two or three quick strides Cole got to her side and before she knew it he grabbed hold of her chair and roughly turned her around in it. The screeching sound on the hard floor was the only form of protest as a surprised Emily could barely comprehend what was going on, let alone utter a single word. Cole snatched her comb from her hand and hurled it across the room before he leaned ever so slightly, holding her prisoner in her own chair.The poor comb crashed carelessly somewhere across the room before everything quietened down. Only then did Emily notice her own erratic breathing or the fact that there was no escape.“Just- what -do you think you are doing in my chamber?” Cole sn
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“Gentlemen, what say you to this, she asked with an expectant smile on her face.Emily had returned and was now standing in front of the guest with her hands planted akimbo. She turned and gave her husband one last look. Emerald green eyes met stormy ones and instantly her lips twitched to the side. Almost as if she was proud of herself. At that moment a bittered Cole who had been observing everything with quiet displeasure had the sinking feeling that had his wife been in a possession of a hand fan, she would have gladly been laughing behind it. An observation he wasn't keen on making.His mouth ached from clenching his jaw and as Cole watched. Several men offered a polite excuse and started towards him. Their decisions obvious. His dark brows furrowed and Cole looked away, but not before he saw George Bertram with his black sleeked back hair and a big grin on his face leading the line.The man was enjoying
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