The Wagered Bride by Everly West

Author:Everly West [West, Everly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Sammie awoke slowly to a pounding headache. Or was there someone beating at her door?

She blinked her tear swollen eyes twice against the glaring sunlight spilling into the bedroom. She’d forgotten to close the drapes the night before. She rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers. Gradually, the throbbing subsided until it was only the annoying dull ache a person almost always experienced as a result of hours of crying.

Sammie vaulted from the bed as the door opened. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when Amelia stepped through the doorway carrying a silver tray. “It’s you.”

“I knocked,” Amelia explained tersely. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“I guess I didn’t hear you.” Sammie stepped to the window and pulled the thick drapes together. Thus, blocking out the bright sunlight, which eased the pain in her head and, hopefully, darkened the room enough Amelia couldn’t see her red-rimmed eyes. For lack of anything else to do, Sammie walked over to the tray Amelia had placed on the dressing table and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“There will be arrangements made for you to have a maid as so as possible.” Amelia said as she picked up the silk robe from the foot of the bed and laid it over her arm. “I’m sure it was an oversight on Mason’s part.”

“I can do that,” Sammie blurted as she realized Amelia intended to make the bed. The bed with no virgin blood upon its sheets.

Amelia turned to raise a perfectly shaped winged eyebrow in Sammie’s direction before agreeing. “As you wish.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not your job and I don’t mind doing it until someone can be hired,” Sammie said, trying to explain away the outlandish idea of the mistress of the house making her own bed.

Amelia glanced down at the small paring knife Sammie had picked up off the tray and was unconsciously twirling it between her index finger and thumb. “If you’re thinking about doing yourself in, get a bigger knife. If you’re thinking about doing your husband in, get a gun. But, if you’re thinking about wounding yourself enough to put blood on those sheets where there is none, don’t bother.

“Everyone in this house heard the two of you screaming at each other.” Amelia folded Sammie’s robe and place it on the foot of the bed. “We all know there won’t be any signs of your purity on the linens, so don’t insult our intelligence by trying to prove otherwise. Probably half the people from here to Laramie heard the two of you last night.” Amelia stepped into the hallway and reached back to grasp the doorknob. “By the way, the chandelier you shot last night was from France. It was one of Mason’s mother’s favorite pieces.”

Sammie’s gasp covered the sound of the door closing as Amelia shut it. Her hand shook as she brought it up to her mouth, her knees gave way beneath her and she slid down to sit on the small dressing stool behind her.

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