Daughter of Darkness by Janet Woods

well.’
    ‘You know me not at all,’ he murmured, the sword tip circling a blue bow on her cap. He caught the bow as it fell, handing it to her with a mocking bow. ‘I’ve never been a husband to you.’
    Despite the flush that crept across her cheeks she met mockery with mockery. ‘Are you not the bravest and most considerate of men? Or does Lady Edwina feed me falsehood?’
    An eyebrow arched in disbelief. ‘My grandmother said that?’
    The amusement in his eyes when she nodded encouraged her to continue. ‘Are you not the revered son of Ambrose, who’s summoning all his strength at this moment to lay his hand on your head in blessing?’
    Gerard’s nod was uncomfortable, as if he’d reached a conclusion that this was no longer a game. She had all his attention now.
    ‘I’ve heard much from Jeffrey of you. His hero is a little tarnished of late, but not too much to redeem himself if he tries. You’ll be pleased to know he’s acted as friend and protector during your absence.’
    ‘I have no liking for sarcasm,’ he warned, his sword now lowered. His eyes mirrored his intense pain.
    Relentlessly, she continued, determined not to spare him. ‘But you are right of course, husband. Because your absence has been prolonged, I know you not at all. What I’ve been led to expect is not what I see before me. It’s disappointing when one’s expectations turn out to be quite different, in fact. Do you not agree?’
    ‘The only thing my brain and I agree on at the moment is that it aches abominably. My patience beginning to wear thin,’ and it showed in his voice, Willow thought. ‘I suspect that’s due to the fresh air you’ve induced me to breathe and the crow you’ve forced me to eat.’ He gazed thoughtfully down at her. ‘If the nagging was designed to bring me to my senses, you’ve achieved it. I should thank you for it, but no doubt you’ve been paid in full by my discomfort.’
    ‘Your discomfort brings me no pleasure. I petition you only on the earl’s behalf. The demand for the dubious pleasure of your company is his. I’m merely his messenger.’
    Her husband was strolling towards the French windows when he turned and stared at her. ‘You have the makings of a shrew, by God.’ Giving a laugh when she frowned, he grinned, returning to her in two strides. ‘Do you not have a kiss for your husband after his long absence?’
    ‘You stink like a goat,’ she hissed, drawing the dagger fully from her pocket.
    It took but an instant to twist it from her grasp. Remembering the scar on the soldier’s face he stared at its sharply honed edge. ‘You will not threaten me with this again,’ he muttered, throwing it with some force at the picture of the fourth earl. It buried itself in the earl’s heart.
    Willow shivered. Her husband was not a man to be trifled with.
    His astute grey eyes bored coldly into hers. ‘I’m going for a ride to clear my head. Tell Rodgers to prepare my bath.’
    ‘You’re wearing only shirt and breeches,’ she pointed out. Grabbing his cloak from the chair she threw it to him as he left. ‘Put that on less you catch cold.’
    ‘Thank you, wife.’ For the life of him, Gerard couldn’t remember her name. His mocking bow brought color to her cheeks and he laughed as he strode out into the morning. He’d not expected the child he’d left behind to have grown into such a beauty, nor to possess such spirit. Halfway towards the stables he stopped to gazed back at the house. Had she said his father was going to recover and was waiting to give his blessing? The day took on a new meaning.
    ‘Saddle up my father’s stallion,’ he said to the groom when he reached the stables. When the man had done his bidding he gazed soberly at him. ‘You’re the Irish groom who came with my wife and her horse, are you not?’
    ‘That I am, My Lord. My name is Brian O’Shea.’
    ‘Lady Sommersley?’ About to ask Brian his wife’s name, Gerard stopped himself. It was bound to