The Patriot Bride Read Online Free PDF

again, warning, “I said stay! Do you need another lesson over my lap?”
    If there was anything she hated in this world, it was being spoken to as a child. No one had used a tone like that on her since she could remember, because she had been her mother’s right arm. Her mother had expected her to parent her sisters, and usually it was she that was using that scolding parental tone.
    He didn’t see the glare she gave him, or he would have had the grace to drop dead from it right then and there. But she stood still, nonetheless.
    Wolf turned his attention to his recalcitrant little wife. She wasn’t looking any too happy, but then that was understandable, considering what he’d just done to her bottom. But he had to admit to himself, that even blotchy skinned and red eyed, she was still extremely pretty. His mouth quirked downward. Too pretty for her own good, probably. He found it very hard to believe that she’d had a long, unaccompanied sea voyage, then lived here for Lord knew how long completely unchaperoned and hadn’t succumbed to some eager young dandy with no respect for womanhood, despite her supposed status as a widow.
    Watching her openly – feeling that as her rightful husband he had no need to be covert about it, regardless of how obviously uncomfortable it was making her, Wolf was debating as to whether or not he should sleep here this evening. It wasn’t that he had any hesitation whatsoever about treating her as his wife. He turned to look down at her spare bed with a frown. It was more that he wasn’t much interested in having to sleep in the fetal position on her tiny bed. He’d slept in worse places, of course. An Army man didn’t always have a choice. But as he’d rose in the ranks – and was no longer a green youth – he found he preferred as many bodily comforts as he could get, although he had to admit that at his height and overall size, he often hung over the edge of whatever bed he was in. His room at Preston Hall – the master suite, since his father’d died – had a huge feather bed that was custom made to his size requirements.
    The innkeeper next to the barracks where the majority of his troops were quartered had offered him a very nice room with, thankfully, a much larger bed, and his world weary bones were crying out for it right about now. He could, of course, take her there with him. It was well within his rights as her husband.
    He wasn’t a monster, and he knew she was probably quite overwhelmed by his appearance on her doorstep. But he didn’t want to give her the chance to escape him twice. She’d proven to be just a little too savvy for him to trust that she’d be there in the morning if he went back to the inn.
    So instead, Wolf reached out and settled his hands onto her hips, pushing her back just a bit and grinning at her immediate, protesting squawk. But he wasn’t concerning himself with her right now, and proceeded to simply stand and begin to unbutton his vest.
    Hanna had been quite sure that he was going to attack her again in some horrid, embarrassing way or other, and then he just started undressing, which was almost worse.
    She moved away to the other side of the cabin, which had been considerably reduced in size merely by his presence, fiddling with the wildflowers in the vase, wiping imaginary crumbs of the table, and beginning to stoke the fire for the evening.
    “Leave it. I’ll do that.”
    His voice startled her. It was more usually a man’s job – the chunks of split wood in the box next to the hearth practically weighed more than she did and were full of splinters, but she was used to it. Her father had deeded that lovely job over to her when she was about eight, and the logs were practically half her height.
    She continued doing exactly what she’d started, until he stomped over and grabbed her arm, carefully removing the hunk of wood gently from her hand, his bare chest rubbing obscenely up against her as he did so. “What did I just say?