Scarlett Scott by A Mad Passion

Author:A Mad Passion
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“Bella, stop.”

Naturally, being a female and his sister both, she ignored Thornton’s command, bustling down the hall without a pause. Her skirt even twitched in her agitation. Hell, what had he done—what grievous sin had he committed—to deserve this punishment? Had he not just dealt with the dowager? Now he must face the dowager-in-training when all he longed for was Cleo’s sweet, lush body beneath his. They hadn’t even made love in a proper bed yet, chrissakes.

“Bella,” he attempted again.

She crashed into her bedchamber, oblivious to the noise and spectacle she made. He barreled through after her, patience thinning. Under ordinary circumstances, he would never disrupt Bella’s privacy. But she had already taken it upon herself to disrupt his peace and meddle in his affairs where she was not wanted or needed and he meant to return the favor. First, he would give her his mind on the inappropriate attention she had been paying Jesse.

“Get out of here.” She turned about in a flurry of angry pink silk and launched a book at his head.

Had he not ducked quickly, it would have landed him square in the right eye.

“Get out!” she screeched.

“Good Christ, Bella, let’s not make a row.” He was horrified by her uncharacteristic reaction. Didn’t have a clue how to respond or control her apparent rage.

“Let’s not make a row?” She wrestled a book from the table beside her bed and hurled it at him. “I dare say it’s too late for that, brother. You have gone from being the gem of the Liberals to the gossip on everyone’s tongue. Have you no respect for yourself? Have you no control over your deeds that you must shame us all by sniffing after her skirts as if you were no better than a common hound?”

“That’s quite enough, Arabella de Vere,” he told her in his sternest tones. “You’re making a rumpus without reason.”

“Has she made you come after me?” Bella demanded to know, her cheeks flushed with rage and exertion to match her dress.

He rather didn’t want to admit it, but his face must have given away the truth. His sister threw up her hands. “I despair of you. Truly, it’s no better than if you were her dog.”

Sister or no, Thornton had withstood all the insults and hurled objects he would from the spoiled chit. Had he ever thought her bookish and meek? Christ, what had he been thinking? She was Lucifer decked out in a lady’s finery.

And she had overstepped her bounds. “That is enough out of you, miss.” He stalked the length of the chamber, determined to thwart any more bric-a-brac throwing she may have in mind. “You will recall to whom you speak. I haven’t an inkling what’s gotten into you, but I don’t like a bit of it.”

“You told me there was nothing untoward between yourself and Lady Scarbrough and yet it is plain to everyone—even town gossips—that there is. I am sick with it, Alex. Already, I must endure Mother’s endless carping on every subject beneath the sun.

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