The Sherbrooke Bride - Catherine Coulter [71]
And Alexandra, mild of manner and of quiet, thoughtful temperament, flew at her husband and struck his chest with her fists.
He let her strike him simply because he was frozen with shock and surprise. Her face was flushed, her eyes dilated. He very gently clasped her wrists and pulled her hands to her sides.
“No more, Alexandra, no more. Now, you and I have some talking to do.”
“No,” she said.
Douglas was a firm believer in reason and calm. He exercised beneficent control. He also was quite used to being the master in his home, he hadn’t been bragging about that for it was the simple truth. He was not a despot nor was he a malignant savage. But his word was the law and his opinions the ones that counted. But this damned woman dared to go against him. It was infuriating and intolerable. He found himself uncertain what to do. In the army, any recalcitrant soldier he faced would simply have been removed and whipped or confined to quarters. But what did a man do when his wife disobeyed him in front of every servant and his mother and his brother and sister? If she struck him?
“No,” she said again.
“Let her leave,” said the Dowager Countess of Northcliffe. “She wants to go, Douglas, let her.”
He bent on her a look she had never before received from him. “Mother, I would that you keep still.”
His mother gasped.
Douglas ignored her and turned back to his wife. “If you don’t come with me this moment, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you.”
As a threat, it was specific and precise. However, Alexandra didn’t think he would want to provide more scenes for the servants’ delectation. No, he was far too proud to do something so very indecorous. She turned on her heel and walked toward the front door, head high, the broom handle well in place.
In that instant, Sinjun shrieked, an unearthly sound that brought everyone’s attention to her, including Alexandra’s.
She was jumping up and down, shouting herself hoarse.
“Damnation, Sinjun,” Douglas shouted. “Be quiet!”
“A rat, Douglas, a huge, awful, hairy rat! Look, over there! Right next to Alexandra! Oh my God, I can’t believe it, it is going to climb her skirt!”
Alexandra grasped her skirts and ran into the nearest room, which was the Gold Salon. She slammed the door, stopped in the middle of the room, quickly realized there had been no rodent, that Sinjun had done it to her again. She’d prevented her from walking out on Douglas, perhaps prevented Douglas from humiliating her further . . . but it was quite possible that Douglas would have simply let her walk out. When the door opened, she didn’t turn around. When the door closed and when she heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, she still didn’t turn around.
“Your sister is a menace,” she said.
“If you are careful, you just might save yourself a good thrashing. If you do, why then, you can thank Sinjun for rescuing you.”
Alexandra walked slowly to a sofa and sat down. She folded her hands in her lap and remained completely quiet.
“Would you like a glass of wine? Brandy? Ratafia?”
She shook her head.
He was standing directly in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“How do you feel?”
That surprised her and she looked up. “I am fine, thank you. Certainly well enough to travel back to Claybourn Hall. By myself, without your noble presence.”
“I doubt that.”
“Well, if I collapsed dead in a ditch, why then, it would result in the same thing, wouldn’t it?”
“No, not at all. I wouldn’t get my settlement back from your father.”
Alexandra stood up. She held out her hand. “Give me the key to that door. I have been a fool to remain here for as long as I have, enduring your insults and your ridicule. I was wrong to believe that you would come to accept me, that you would realize that I would be a quite good wife for you. I was wrong in what I felt about . . . never mind. I have come quickly to despise you, nearly as much as you despise me. I won’t stay here for another minute. Give me the bloody key.”
Douglas ran his fingers through his hair, and cursed. “I didn’t mean