Chapter Twenty

A thick cloud of smoke filled the air, moving in an ever-tightening circle, pulsing in and out. She reached up to fend it off, and it morphed into a cloud of birds, swirling, squawking, and cackling.

“Leave me be!”

The laughter increased, and she pressed her hands over her ears.

“Please—stop!”

A hand grasped her shoulder and the cloud dissipated, leaving three little demons standing before her.

No, not demons…

Urchins.

“That’s enough, Jonathan!” a deep voice cried in the distance. “Leave your mother be.”

“You said to wake her!” the smallest cried, before sticking his thumb in his mouth.

Your mother…

She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Sunlight stretched across the parlor, illuminating the children’s faces and their eyes—three identical pairs of bright blue eyes…

Eyes like hers.

Then the memory of last night came to the fore—three pairs of eyes staring at her across the kitchen table.

The urchins were hers .

“Come, on children!” the voice cried once more, then he appeared.

The Beast. Her husband.

She clambered into the recesses of her mind, seeking the memory—but his name refused to break into her consciousness. Only hers.

Bella.

And the children’s…

“Jonathan,” she said, looking at the red-headed child, before turning to the twins. “William and”—she stared at the girl—“Rowena?”

The girl scowled, and her brother poked her with his elbow. “Ha-ha!” he cried in a singsong voice. “She’s already forgotten you!”

“Shut up!” the girl cried.

“Roberta—manners!” the Beast said, though his voice contained an undercurrent of laughter.

Jonathan grinned and jumped up and down. “She remembered me first!”

“Do you remember my name?” the Beast asked.

She stared at him, then shook her head.

“Lawrence,” he said. “It’s Lawrence. Not the Beast .”

Heavens! Could he read her mind?

“Bella, love, it’s time to get up,” he said. “You’ll not get your chores done if you spend the day idling on the sofa.”

Chores. That hateful word again!

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “You needn’t look so worried,” he said. “I’ve written you a list.”

She rose, and his gaze settled on her dress. Her cheeks warmed at the flare of desire in his eyes.

She snatched the paper and read it. “Clean the kitchen, wash the windows, stoke the fire…”

Was he jesting?

“Oh—I’ve forgotten to include the mending,” he said. “You tore your petticoat when you had your…accident, and we can’t afford a new one.”

“Don’t I have another?”

For a moment, she saw discomfort in his eyes. “We lost your clothes when we came here,” he said. “But don’t worry—Ned’s niece has said she’ll give you some of her old gowns. Isn’t that kind of her? And she’s going to ask around for donations. Mrs. Gleeson’s always collecting.”

“Who’s Mrs. Gleeson?”

“The vicar’s wife. She’ll see you right.”

“Am I to be subjected to the charity of others?” she asked. “Do you mean to humiliate me?”

“Bella, love,” he sighed, “folk hereabouts are being very kind. We’re outsiders, and they owe us no favors. Let’s not make enemies before we’ve made any friends. You never complained about taking charity when we had nothing.”

“We have nothing now!” She gestured about the parlor. “Just look at this…hovel!”

“It just needs a clean and a tidy-up,” he said. “You’ll know what to do.”

“But I’ve never done any—”

“Yes, you have, love, and you’ve never complained about it before.” He gestured to the list. “I’ve done what I can to help.”

“By writing instructions for me to do all the work!” she cried, curling her fingers around the list. “Why should I do it all?”

“Because you’re my wife,” he said. “But I tell you what—I’ll take the children to school before I start work. How’s that?”

She glanced at the piece of paper. “Take the children to school? That’s not even on the list.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to remind you about that .”

“Then you’ll come back and help with this?”

“You can’t expect me to do women’s work. How will I put food on our table if I’m to be fancying about the house making a fool of meself? Talk sense, woman.”

“Talk sense, woman!” Jonathan echoed, and he burst into laughter.

Tears stung Bella’s eyes, but she bit her lip to stem them. The last thing she wanted was to further her humiliation by crying in front of them—despite the provocation.

Her husband—Lawrence—met her gaze, and for a moment, she saw tenderness in his eyes. Then he blinked and the amusement returned.

She glared at the child. “I am talking sense, Jonathan .”

“That’s settled, then,” Lawrence said. “Children, go find your shoes.”

The children scrambled out of the parlor, yelling and laughing.

Bella pressed her hand against her forehead. The pains that had tormented her since her accident had lessened, but a dull ache throbbed behind her eyes. But there was no use telling him that—he seemed to think her sole purpose was to serve him.

Isn’t that what any husband expects of his wife?

For a brief moment, the memory of her dream broke through—a portly man dressed in finery, with sour breath and a spiteful disposition, his lust-filled eyes small in his fleshy face…

“Bella!”

She startled and stared at the clear-eyed man before her. Uncouth beast he may be, but there was an honesty in his roughness. He carried no pretense at finery. No—his uncouthness was on display, rudely invading her consciousness.

“Are you all right?”

He moved closer, his body filling the space—the same body that had held her close when she woke from her nightmare. It was the body of a laborer—a beast—built for toil. Yet, in that briefest of moments, it had been capable of such tenderness.

She must have married him for a reason. Had he wooed her with offerings of courtship and stolen kisses?

He reached toward her, but, fighting the need to be in those strong arms, she pushed him back.

“Yes, I’m all right.”

“Good.” He nodded, and the tenderness in his eyes disappeared. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

“What for?”

“The list.”

“If you think I’d thank you for such a…” she began, but he raised his hand.

“No man wants a harpy for a wife,” he said. “Remember your vow of obedience.”

She dipped into a mock curtsey. “Thank you, husband ,” she sneered.

He laughed. “Oh, Bella—you always were a handful! I’ll take the words, but not the manner in which they were spoken. But mind you get those chores done.”

“Will you beat me if I don’t?” she challenged.

Hunger flared in his eyes. “I rather relish the prospect of taking you over my knee—as I’m sure you do, you insatiable wanton.” He licked his lips, and she caught her breath at the wicked little pulse of pleasure deep inside her body.

“A-an insatiable wanton?” she said, her voice tight.

“That’s my Bella,” he said, grinning. “And there are few women who can measure up to your skills when it comes to pleasin’ me.”

Ugh.

He chuckled and stepped closer. “That’s something we can explore later,” he said, licking his lips. “But now, let us seal our bargain with a kiss.”

Her stomach fluttered with anticipation—then, with a clatter of footsteps and a cacophony of shrieks, the children returned.

“Take good care of that list, Bella, love,” her husband said. “I can’t be wasting paper writing out another one. Come on, children—say goodbye to your mother.”

“Goodbye, Mama!” they chorused.

They exited the parlor, and she heard the front door open and shut, their footsteps and voices fading into the distance.

She glanced at the list. Heavens—there were more than ten items!

How would she even begin?