~ Bride of Passion ~

by

Connie Rachal

“I should ask you the same thing,” Claret flared. “I don’t have to assume anymore about my suspicions. What I thought all along is true. I have nothing to explain to you, you... no good scoundrel. Now leave me be!”

Claret looked away from him and leaned toward the window and yelled up at the coachman, “Please, stop this carriage and let me out.”

“Oui,” the driver called out, slowing down the conveyance.

Andreas none too happy, shifted to the opposite side and called out, “I paid you well, keep going.” He leaned back with satisfaction showing across his face and the horses picked up speed.

He glanced at the one piece of baggage and his eyes went cold on her. “You are traveling unaccompanied. Have you already filled your pockets and fled from your devoted friend?”

“I don’t have to answer that question. It’s none of your business. I have nothing to say to you. You are the one that is cunning. How dare you try to accuse me. You and your lover are the ones who are sadly up to no good,” Claret spat back.

“The woman in question? She is only a casual acquaintance. It is you, darling, that is my lover.” He couldn’t help but smile now at the golden-red hair enchantress.

Claret leaned forward and her hand swept through the air with force and landed on his face, a slap so hard that it sprung her hand back.

“That’s enough. Never, at least... never again will I be your lover, you plundering oaf.”

Andreas straighten and grabbed her hand and moved beside her. He embraced her shoulder with his other arm and glared into her defying eyes. “Say what you will, but your lips burned against mine, just three months ago. Admit it, my darling. You want me.”

“I’ll admit no such a thing.” She noticed the red hand print from her hand on his face and held herself straight. He deserved it.

“You won’t admit it, will you? You’ve already left that man across the ocean, so what are you doing here?” He saw the aggravation on her face, in her voice.

“Let’s talk about your morals. You have none. You get around don’t you? Having an affair with my father’s wife! Is there a scrupulous bone in your body, Andreas? I guess not. You are, after all, a no good pirate.”

Andreas relaxed his hold on her hand, but rested his arm on the back of the seat. His eyes narrowed and he couldn’t help but think that the world was a small place indeed. “Your father’s wife?” he said, stunned.

She used the opportunity to wiggle away from him. “Yes. I can imagine what you were doing there!

“Felicia is your mother?” This surely took him by surprise. The world became smaller by the minute.

“Felicia? Hardly,” Claret blurted out. “You are referring to Agnes Felicia Le Tullier, the wife my father married less than three years ago. I refuse to claim her as a... stepmother.” Claret lowered her head and eyes.

Andreas rested a hand on the seat thumbing his fingers. “Let’s get to the bottom of this. Compose yourself, my darling, for I’ll not let you get away until we have this hashed out,” he stated firmly and meant it.

Claret kicked Andreas.

He felt the brunt of all the force that she could give from a sitting position. Andreas snatched her arm with a firm hold. “Your manners have not improved. Settle down, darling, after we discuss this you may go about your business. Claret, you know me well enough to know that I mean what I say.”

With a jerk, her hand freed. In a huff, she straightened the yellow jacket. “It is Agnes, Euric and you who sent me away by force at the expense of having my father jailed,” she accused. “I wouldn’t doubt it if you were the one who murdered the Count.” She glared at him with fury in her eyes.

Andreas blinked. “I’ll be damned if you’ll now accuse me of murder or any of those other accusations. Let’s take these accusations one at a time. You are wrong. It seems you are in a predicament of sorts.”

“Thanks to you! You scoundrel! I’ll not discuss anything with you!”

“Calm yourself, Claret. Your father is in jail? Where are you staying? Let me take you there so that we may discuss this peacefully.”

Claret didn’t answer, but leaned back fuming, arms folded, looking out the window at the shops they passed, and street vendors picking up their wares for the afternoon. She could yell out, cry, but nothing would have prepared her for what happened many months ago or for all these past turn of events. Right now, she despised the man who sat next to her.

“Since you won’t tell me, I have no choice.” With that said, Andreas called out an address to the coachman. “I have to bring you somewhere so we can talk. You leave me but one choice in this matter.”

Claret should fear him but didn’t. She folded her arms across her bosom. “You think you can take me against my wishes. You’ll have to drag me out of this carriage. I’ve done all the talking I plan to, and shall not say another word.”

“That’s exactly what I intended to do, drag you out of this carriage, darling.”

“Don’t call me your darling again. I despise you!”

The carriage pulled up to a flourishing, residential part of town, in front of a house comparable in wealth to her father’s.

Claret leaned forward. “Is this another one of your casual acquaintance’s homes?”

“Ah, I thought you weren’t on speaking terms with me,” Andreas said then smiled. “If you must know, the woman here means a little more than that. I should say we know each other much better than casual acquaintances.”

“How dare you haul me here!” Claret’s lower lip trembled with anger.

Andreas opened the door and threw her valise out before he stepped from the carriage. He tossed several coins up to the driver. “That’s all, you may leave us,” he called up to the coachman as he pulled the unwilling Claret from its confines. Even though she struggled, his strength overpowered her. He lifted her small body over his shoulders with ease and proceeded to the door. Claret kicked her legs and beat his back with her fists, a mass of red hair flowing downward. He ignored her and pulled the bell cord. In minutes the huge door swung open. He stepped in the doorway and paused in front of the servant.

“Get the lady of the house. Have someone fetch this lady’s bag on the ground outside and bring it in,” he ordered the wide eyed servant who bowed and backed away to follow the command.

Andreas’s boots tapped across the parquet floored foyer into the salon. He leaned to lower Claret to her feet but held tight to her wrist as she yanked unsuccessfully to free herself.