His Spoilt Lady by Vanessa Brooks Page A

John to the Colonies? Linnett recalled the conversation as
she was leaving that morning. It began to dawn on her that Lottie
had assumed that she knew of the travelling arrangements. Linnett
closed her eyes in pain; she hadn’t even said goodbye to Lottie, or
any of the other staff for that matter, all of whom she had known
since she was a small child. Pango! Who would exercise him now? Oh,
this was terrible.
    Tears began to
slide down her cheeks as she remembered all that she had left
behind. If only she had been able to marry Charles, she would still
be near her home, living the way of life that she loved, with all
her loved ones close by her. Yet, here she was, cast adrift out in
the wide oceans with a man she called husband but one whom she
barely knew and was sure she disliked.
    All of this was
all down to his interference with her carefully made plans.
Gradually, the resentment she already felt towards John
intensified, until it burned hotly within her. John unwittingly
chose that moment to quietly enter the room bearing a tray with
teapot, cups and saucers and with a plate of freshly baked
scones.
    “Oh, good, you
are awake,” he said cheerily. “The captain has an excellent cook.
I’ve brought you some of his delicious biscuits to try. He called
them some strange name, scones, I think he said.”
    John set the
tray down on the table and went over to the bed. He sat on the edge
and took Linnett’s hand, turned towards her and was moved to see
tear stains on her cheeks. “Poor darling girl, please don’t fret. I
swear to you that if we can, we will visit your father, possibly
even next year, providing that you are not in a delicate condition
of course.”
    John gave a
slow smile and pinched Linnett’s cheek affectionately.
    He couldn’t be
quite sure what happened next. He appeared to be covered in bed
clothes lying on the floor. As he struggled to sit up and finally
freed his head, he was doused in cold water, the shock of which
left him gasping.
    “Delicate
condition?!” screeched Linnett from where she stood clutching the
empty water pitcher. “Let me tell you, sir! I have no intention of
sharing a bed with you EVER AGAIN, let alone ever being in a
delicate condition, as you put it! When we reach the colonies, I
shall arrange my passage straight back home to England and
Lavenstock Hall, which is where I belong and not with some colonial
half-wit who decides to drag me half way across the world when it
pleases him!”
    Linnett,
exceedingly angry as she was, nevertheless took a stumbling step
backwards when she saw the open fury on her husband’s face. His
eyes had narrowed to steely slits as she ranted, and any sympathy
he had felt for her earlier was gone, replaced by a deep burning
anger. Slowly he hauled himself upright, kicking the bedclothes
aside and shaking his head. He looked like a wet wolf shaking dry.
John passed a hand over his head and slicked his wet hair back.
What sort of a harridan had he married? Well, he intended to start
as he meant to go on.
    John took a
deep breath. He would not allow her to goad him into losing his
temper; therefore, he must make things absolutely crystal clear to
her and then surely she would settle down and remain calmer. He
walked over to the table and picked up a cup and saucer, enquiring
in an icily polite tone, “Shall we take tea now...my dear?” When he
got no answer, he went on, “Sit down, for I have a few things that
I wish to say to you.”
    Linnett
flounced into a chair, her expression sulky. She was somewhat
relieved that John was behaving in so civilised manner after her
attack, but she was also somewhat disappointed.
    Linnett would
have quite liked to have had the opportunity to vent more of her
anger; she was still simmering and wanted to throw something hard
at his vile head. John, fully aware of her volatile nature,
nevertheless felt some sympathy for her state of mind. He decided
that he would naturally subdue her, teaching her to respect