As soon as they were gone, Ambrose dropped back in his seat, dragging a hand through his hair. What the hell did he do now? Drink? Search out his wife? Confront her? Consummate the marriage before she changed her mind? He had meant what he said. He would not annul the marriage, regardless of whether it had been consummated or not.
Which it damn well would be.
And perhaps it had been wishful thinking on his part that his life would remain unchanged now that a wife occupied the walls of his home, slept in the room adjoining his.
She would be so close. Even now he imagined listening to the soft padding of her footsteps as she settled in for the night. He would rather not think of her laying her head on a bed of pillows, breathing, stretching out her lithe body.
Nothing was supposed to change. He wasn’t supposed to be plagued by thoughts of his wife. Especially since she was never meant to be his wife. And yet it was impossible not to wonder what she was feeling at that moment. Was she angry? Scared? Did she feel invincible?
Ambrose loathed change. Ever since Celia became sick all those years ago, change always made him antsy. And more often than not, when changed occurred, Ambrose needed to reassess his limits, his environment. And breathe.
Breathe.
The study was too stuffy. He couldn’t think here, knowing somewhere in the house, in her chamber, his wife waited for him. All he wanted was to go back to his life the way it was twelve months ago. No complications. No commitments. No doubt and uncertainty festering in his belly.
But as if the day could not get any worse, Quinn Middleton entered, his eyes smoldering. Murderous, even.
Ambrose sighed.
There would be no reprieve for him apparently.
“What the hell do you want?” Ambrose snapped, losing some of his composure. “Your brethren have already voiced their grievances.”
“But I have not.” Quinn’s face hardened to stone. “Do not think I won’t take Willow away from you if I suspect my cousin is unhappy.”
“If you ever take my wife away from me, pup, I will see you dealt with in ways you cannot fathom.” His voice was low, laced with malice. Promise.
He was tired of people threatening to remove his wife from his life.
The man’s shoulders bunched at the threat. “Don’t mistake me for one of your saplings, St. Ives. If you hurt my cousin, therewillbe hell to pay.”
A sardonic smile stretched across Ambrose’s lips.Well, so much for welcoming family in-laws. With one last parting glare, in which Ambrose just raised his brows at the pup, Quinn Middleton stalked from the room, shouldering past Jonathan, who appeared just then in the threshold.
“Who the hell did you piss off now?” Jonathan muttered, striding into the room and dropping down in a chair. “Christ, my head is throbbing.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Ambrose demanded.
“Dammit man, must you yell?”
“Where have you been?” Ambrose insisted with a glower. “Your presence was required today.”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “If you must know, I was at Hazard’s all night.”
“The gaming hell?”
Jonathan nodded. “Having the time of my life.”
“You missed my wedding for a damn night on the town?” Ambrose practically roared.
“What?” Jonathan shot upright. “No! That’s not until the sixteenth!”
“Today is the sixteenth!”
“The hell you say!” But Jonathan’s pallor was already replaced by an unpleasant shade of pink.
Ambrose scrubbed his face with his hands. “Unbelievable.”
Jonathan slowly sat back down, shame written on his face. “I missed your wedding, didn’t I?”
“It’s done now,” Ambrose muttered, falling back into his chair, his eyes shutting.
What was done was done. His brother had been recovering from a night of gambling and indulgence while he had been deserted by his betrothed and married her sister. His mother was beside herself and his in-laws despised him.
And he didn’t know a damn thing about his new wife.
He let out a heavy sigh.
Ambrose could not help but wonder if today marked defining moments for them all.
