Page 31
A hell beast was going to tear her throat out.
Flecks of saliva landed on her face and neck, dog breath gagging her.
“Titan, sit!” barked a powerful male voice.
One moment she was going to be the beast’s dinner, the next, it let her go, backed away, and sat down by the feet of the very tall, very muscular, and very angry owner of the room.
“What on Earth are you doing here?” he roared.
Without waiting for a reply, he picked up her candle and walked to the nearby sideboard.
She was shaking, prickly fear still coursing through her in icy cold surges as she watched him try to light the candle.
He struck the flint and steel together awkwardly, his movements hindered by the glove. The sparks fell short, dying before they could ignite the tinder.
Patience bit her lip, a pang of pity striking her heart. What was hiding under that thick leather glove that he wore even now? Did he sleep in it, or had he swiftly put it on before he rose?
On the third attempt, he struck the steel, and a spark leapt forth and lingered on the tinder, catching slowly. Patience remained frozen as the tinder began to smolder. With a careful breath, Dorian coaxed the tiny flame to life, then brought a thin piece of wood to the flame, lit it, and brought it to the wick of the candle.
As he lifted the candle before him, golden light illuminated his bare, hard, muscular chest, which she could see through the opening of his dark crimson dressing gown. Did he not sleep in a nightgown?
What an odd thing to wonder, she chastised herself, when his Irish wolfhound had almost just eaten her.
She stared at Titan. She’d never become acquainted with the dog, but she’d seen him by Dorian’s side every morning from her window.
How could this creature have been a hell beast one moment and the next, sit like a happy puppy, wagging its long tail, as it looked at his master very satisfied with itself. Yes, said Titan’s fierce, toothy face, I protected you, I’m a good dog.
She straightened her shoulders and met her husband’s furious yet sleepy face.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded again, calmer this time, accentuating every word. “I forbade you to come here.”
She raised her chin and called upon the power of positivity and her smile. No fear. No negative emotions. She was fine. “I apologize for the commotion,” she said, and Dorian cocked one brow.
“You’re apologizing?” He shook his head, irritation in his tone. “Do state your reason for being here before I send you back to your room!”
“Perhaps if you hadn’t restricted me to the point where I feel like I live in a prison, I might not have needed to barge into your room!” she exclaimed.
He raised both brows now. “Prison?”
“Yes. Prison.”
“You have everything you could ever want.”
“Not everything.” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling like she had his attention now, and walked deeper into his room, observing her surroundings. “First, I’d like to know if you did pay my father’s debts.”
This room was the exact reflection of hers, except it was all in dark blues with some red accents. The bedsheets were crimson and the curtains on the windows were navy blue with thin red stripes. The masculine space fitted him well. There were old swords and shields, and even a mace, hanging on the wall.
Oh, Good Lord, was he going to use any of them for her punishment?
“Yes, I paid your father’s debts, Madam,” he declared. “I did it the very day of our wedding.”
Relief flooded her. “Good. At least I know my family won’t be on the streets and my father won’t be in debtor’s prison.”
His predator gaze narrowed on her. “Anything else?”
“Thank you,” she said and smiled at him.
He looked quite disarmed for a moment, then swallowed and scowled again.
