His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance) (14 page)

“
I don't care what the blazes Caroline asked,” Elijah
snapped.

Amelia's eyes widened, but she said
nothing.

“
I beg your pardon,” Elijah said in a much calmer voice.
Mindlessly, he dug his toes into the bottoms of his shoes, refusing
to do anything more to let her know how unsettled he was by her
accusation. Did she really think
he
was a snob? He wouldn't argue with her thinking
Henry was one, but him?

“
It's of no account. I wouldn't expect anything less from
you?”

Elijah's body tensed. “What's that to
mean?”

Amelia waved her hand through the air
in an annoyed manner. “Please, forget I said anything.” Though her
words were pleasant enough, Elijah sensed her meaning was
not.

“
Are we even speaking of the same thing?”

“
Probably not,” Henry said helpfully.

Elijah scowled at his grinning
brother. “Amelia, what are you talking about?”

She pursed her lips. “I'd say that was
a rather rude question, but once again, I shouldn't be
surprised.”

Elijah stared at her dumbfounded. He'd
never thought himself a simpleton—

“
Then perhaps you're wrong,” Henry said with a chuckle. He
dropped his voice to a stage whisper, “You really need to stop
mumbling under your breath when you're distressed.”

“
Indeed,” Amelia agreed, smirking.

A small wave of relief washed over
Elijah. At least Amelia was finding some sort of amusement in the
situation. “Amelia, my sweet— What's that look about?”

“
Nothing.”

“
It's not nothing,” he argued. “You look—” The image before
him could not possibly be put into the right words to do justice
for the way she looked. Her lips were puckered—not pursed—but
actually puckered, and not in a way that might suggest she was
about to kiss him. Her hands were on her hips and her eyebrows were
nearly to her hairline. She was a sight to behold, to be sure.
“Well, I can't describe it exactly, but you have a look about
you.”

“
Nauseated,” Henry said.

Elijah resisted the urge to kick his
annoying brother. “Pardon?”

Henry twisted his lips. “Since when
did your vocabulary—and your mental abilities—become stunted?” He
shook his head and shifted in his chair. “No matter. What I was
saying is she looks nauseated.”

“
Nauseated,” Elijah repeated softly, at a loss.

“
Yes, and I would be, too, if you kept calling me 'sweet',”
Henry said with a grimace.

“
Would you care to leave?” Elijah asked his
brother.

Henry leaned back in his chair,
bringing the front two legs off the floor a good six inches. “No.
I'm rather enjoying this conversation.”

If not for the slight twitch of
Amelia's upper lip, Elijah would have used force to get his
irritating brother out of the room. Instead, he ignored him and
turned his attention back to Amelia. “Does it bother you when I
call you sweet?” Why was he even asking that? It didn't matter one
iota if she liked being called a term of endearment by him or not,
the more pressing question was—

“
No, I suppose not.” She exhaled. “But it's what I've come to
expect from an arrogant, pigheaded, addled gentleman such as
yourself.”

Cough, cough, cough, hack,
hack, hack.
“Excuse me,” Henry choked out
between coughs. He used his palm and banged it against his
chest.

Elijah turned sharp eyes over to where
his brother had just been overcome by a terrible coughing fit.
“Leave.”

Elijah's tone sobered Henry faster
than a splash of cold water to the face. “Very well.”

An eerie silence filled the air as
Henry brought the front legs of his chair back to the floor, then
stood and gathered his discarded coat, cravat and waistcoat. Even
his booted steps as he retreated toward the door were muted—not by
the softness of the carpet under his feet, but because Henry wanted
them to be unheard. He paused briefly at the door, and whispered
something to Amelia that was so soft and low Elijah couldn't have
heard it no matter how hard he strained to listen.

Amelia's eyes lowered, and Henry
whispered something else—making her cheeks color.

Elijah cursed under his breath, then
opened his mouth to speak.

But he didn't have to. Just as
wordlessly as Henry had lowered his chair to the floor and gathered
his belongings, he quit the room, closing the door with an almost
inaudible click behind him.

Now that he was alone with Amelia, he
didn't know what to say to her. Again.

“
What did Henry say to you?” He asked for lack of anything
else to say.

Something—fire, or perhaps rage, he
might never really know—flashed in her silver eyes. “Should I add
jealousy to your list of unbecoming traits?”

“
Unbecoming traits?” he asked with a scoff. “Pardon me, madam,
but it seems to me that it is you who's become unbecoming as of
late.”

Amelia's gaze didn't waver as she
arched one eyebrow in a silent question for him to try to explain
his stupid statement.

Unfortunately, Elijah's mind swam with
words like arrogant, jealous, pigheaded, snob, becoming and
unbecoming, rendering him nearly incapable to form a well thought
out statement, such as the nonsense he'd said a moment
before.

“
Why do you find me to be an arrogant snob?” he blurted at
last.

“
Because you are one.”

Elijah fought to keep the frown off
his face. “No, I'm not,” he said as evenly as his clamped jaw would
allow.

“
Perhaps you're right,” Amelia agreed, a hint of sadness in
her voice that matched the same sadness that was now visible in her
eyes. “Perhaps
you
are not a snob, but you've certainly taken to acting like one
recently.”

What the blazes was she
talking about?
He hadn't acted as if he
had little regard for her. He'd admit he'd been a bit impatient
with her and had said things that were probably best left unsaid,
but he had
not
been a snob. An image of his father flashed in his mind,
reminding him that he was a gentleman, and as such, he owed her an
apology for whatever he did or didn't do that had upset her.
“Amelia, if I've said or done something to make you think I was
talking down to you, I apologize.”

“
I see you've allowed yourself the usual loophole you're so
fond of.” Her statement was devoid of any emotion.

Elijah's eyes bore into her. “I've
apologized, Amelia. What more do you want from me?”

“
You did no such thing. You offered a hollow apology
if
I felt the need for
one, and it was rather reluctantly given, if I might be
blunt.”

“
Of course it was,” he agreed automatically. “I don't think I
actually owe you one.”

“
Of course not.”

Elijah dragged a deep breath in
through his nostrils to help tame his rising temper. She was
pushing him to his limit. And she knew just how to push him there.
But they were not children anymore. Throwing balls of mud at one
another wasn't going to solve this. So why was she pushing him? Or
was she? The slight frown on her face and the way her brows were
knit together were enough to make him second guess his earlier
assessment. Did she truly feel he owed her an apology?

Nonsense. He'd done nothing to
apologize for.

“
Amelia, I don't know what your game is here—” His eyes
narrowed on her. “Oh, I see what you're doing.” He took a step
toward her. Then another. “You're good,” he murmured, closing the
gap between them. “You thought if you picked a fight between us
that I'd forget about my promise this morning, didn't
you?”

Color rose in her cheeks. “I did no
such thing and if you think that I'll have intimacies with you
here, in your brother's library, you are truly cracked.”

He shrugged and flashed her a smile.
“I hadn't planned on it, but now that you've suggested it...” He
reached behind her, purposely grazing the outside of her ribs with
his arm as he did so, and wordlessly slid the lock.

She stiffened instantly. “Will it be
by force, then?”

That was it. The final stone had just
been laid. His internal scale was to its tipping point. He'd had
enough of her and her sharp tongue. Rage like he'd never
experienced before pumped through his veins at such a rapid rate he
could hardly think of what to say in response. Refusing to break
eye contact with her, he reached his arm behind her and turned the
lock with a click so loud even a deaf man could have heard it.
“Out.”

Chapter Fourteen

Amelia couldn't get down the hall and
away from Elijah fast enough. She'd gone into the library with the
intention of telling him that, per Caroline's request, everyone who
would be attending dinner was meeting in the drawing room. Instead,
she'd let her tongue get away from her and what had started out as
hoping to put Elijah in his place had changed into wanting to
provoke him just enough to unsettle him and then had quickly become
her unintentionally provoking his temper.

Not that he was violent or cruel when
in a temper, just the opposite, rather. He'd get quiet and his
breathing would grow heavy, never once uttering a hint of what he
was thinking about, unlike when he was mildly irritated and would
grumble beneath his breath.

She'd only seen him truly angry once
before. It had been about ten years ago, Henry had made some remark
about Elijah's inability to hit a target with his pistol and
instantly Elijah's eyes had grown as dark as the ocean, his lips
had thinned into a tight line that left two white, perpendicular
lines on either side of his mouth, and the vein in his forehead had
protruded. Just a moment ago, his face had transformed the same
way.

The words she'd last spoken played
over in her mind and she nearly tripped over her own feet as she
scurried down the carpeted hall as fast as her slippers could carry
her. She hadn't meant to lob such an accusation at him, it had just
come out. He'd walked over toward her with such purpose and intent,
never an unsure or unsteady step, but each exact and with purpose.
His face unyielding and unreadable. But she didn't need to read it,
she knew why he was coming to her, he was ready to collect on his
earlier promise. And why? Because that's all she was to him, an
outlet for his primal urges. He'd practically said as much to Henry
earlier this morning.

Indignation swelled in her breast. She
wanted nothing more than to win this wager and flaunt her winning
in his face; and of course politely remind him that as the winner
she was forever free of his unwanted advances.

“
Amelia.”

Amelia's heart jumped in
her chest. What did
he
want? She ignored him and kept making her way down the hall.
He wouldn't want to make a scene any more than she did and if she
could just get down the hall and to the staircase, she'd be
safe.

“
Amelia,” he said again, suddenly at her side.

She pulled to an abrupt stop, whether
out of aggravation with the man or just to see if he'd stumble a
little when he matched her stance, she'd never tell. “What do you
want, Henry?”

He gestured to the door behind him.
“I'd like to speak with you for a moment.”

“
Why, so you can mock me?” She slapped a hand over her mouth
with a quiet pop as soon as the words were out.

He shook his head. “No. Why would you
think I'd mock you.”

“
Never mind. We shouldn't be going off alone anyway.” And that
was the truth. No matter how scandalous everyone else in this house
might be, even they couldn't turn a blind eye to catching a newly
married young lady alone in a distant room with her husband's
brother.

Henry's chuckle brought her from her
wayward thoughts. “They're all eating dinner by now, so as long as
Elijah's absent, nobody will suspect anything. Anyway, this won't
take long. Come.”

She dug her heels into the carpet.
What if he were just as amorous as Elijah seemed to be? Her blood
turned to ice in a second. Physically they were the same: tall,
broad shoulders, hands as large as chickens, but Elijah had always
been the more gentle of the two, the first to her side when she'd
been injured, the first to calmly talk her down when she'd climbed
too high up a tree and got scared, the first to remember that while
she might think she was of equal ability and strength to the two of
them, she was really a lady. It wasn't that Henry had purposely
tried to hurt her, but he'd required a reminder of his own strength
from Elijah from time to time. She swallowed and folded her arms
across her chest. “No.”