A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter by Alice Coldbreath

Author:Alice Coldbreath [Coldbreath, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-08-24T18:30:00+00:00

NINETEEN

Clem could not settle to a damn thing at the office the next day. His mind kept wandering back to the extraordinary woman he had married. She really whipped the rug out from under his feet the previous night. Well, if he was truthful, it was not just last night and not just in the bedroom either but practically every area of their life together.

It was annoying that her unconventional ways had such an effect on shaking him. He was hardly a model of respectability, far from it, but it was a good thing he was not easily shocked, for he was dimly aware that Theo’s stance on most things went against society’s strictures.

He was starting not to care so much about her graceless style of dress. In fact, there were distinct advantages that her underwear was so unstructured. What lay under her strange gowns more than made up for her peculiar choice of outfit.

As for her hair … Clem pondered this. He was starting to feel quite strange about the nape of her neck. He had never found that part of the female anatomy particularly attractive, but Dora’s was extremely distracting. He had even found himself staring at it as he had her bent over that dresser and was frankly spoiled for choice where it came to places to look.

Christ, that dresser …

“Clem?” Jim’s voice had him practically jumping in his seat. “You didn’t answer when I knocked on the door,” his friend and employee said, still hovering in the doorway.

Clem pulled himself together and motioned for him to enter. Jim launched into a bunch of things he wanted Clem’s say-so about, and Clem gave him half his attention, nodding and responding with a yea or a nay as the case necessitated, his pen scratching away all the while on the paper.

“Didn’t know you was an artist, Clem,” Jim said finally, clearing his throat.

“What?” Clem looked up in bewilderment.

“Your picture,” said Jim, motioning toward Clem’s ledger.

Clem glanced down and, to his utmost astonishment, saw he had been drawing Theodora’s shapely neck. What the fuck? He felt the heat rise to his face and had to resist the temptation to slam his book shut. Instead, he managed to preserve some dignity and responded, “I—er—was always considered pretty fair at drawing at school.”

Jim nodded, still eyeing the page, and Clem’s fingers twitched to snatch it out of view. “You should get her to pose for you.”

“Who?”

Jim gave him an odd look. “Your wife, of course. That’s who it is, isn’t it? Plain to see.”

Clem’s collar felt too tight. Fucking Jim. When had he ever been so chatty? “Yes, well …” he said dismissively.

“Which changing room’s gonna be ‘er’s?” Jim asked.

Clem drummed his fingers against the table. “She hasn’t even got a date yet for her debut,” he pointed out cuttingly. “Don’t you think you’re trying to put the cart before the horse?”

“Well, she was asking me about some props she wanted—” Jim began, and Clem started up from his seat. Talk of Dora’s stage debut always made him damnably uneasy these days.

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