“I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet voice. “I did not mean to give you a fright.”
He choked back irrational laughter. “You’re the least frightening thing in the house, I assure you.”
Wisely, she did not respond.
But her presence made him only more determined to speak to his sister. “Forgive me,” he said to his wife, then once again bellowed, “Fleur!” He pounded on the door so hard, the wall shook. “God help me, I will kick this door down!”
“Before or after you saw off the doorknob?” came Fleur’s taunting response.
He ground his teeth together, taking a shuddering breath through his nose. “Fleur!”
Iris laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Can I be of help?”
“It’s a family matter,” he bit off.
She drew her hand back, and then she drew her body back. “Forgive me,” she said sharply. “I thought I was family.”
“You met her three minutes ago,” he snapped. It was a cruel comment, and completely uncalled for, but he was so furious just then, he couldn’t possibly temper his words.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Iris said haughtily. “Since you’re managing so well.”
“You know nothing about this.”
Her eyes narrowed. “A fact of which I am quite aware.”
Dear God, he couldn’t fight both of them right now. “Please,” he said to her, “try to be reasonable.”
Which was always the wrong thing to say to a woman.
“Reasonable?” she demanded. “You want me to be reasonable? After everything that has happened in the last fortnight, it’s a wonder I am even sentient!”
“Hyperbole, Iris?”
“Do not patronize me,” she hissed.
He did not bother to contradict.
Her eyes blazing, she stepped forward, almost close enough to touch. “First you drag me into a marriage—”
“I did not drag you.”
“You might as well have done.”
“You weren’t complaining two days ago.”
She flinched.
He knew he had gone too far, but he’d lost all of his reserves. He didn’t know how to stop now. He moved closer, but she did not budge an inch. “For better or for worse, you are my wife.”
Time seemed to stop. Iris’s jaw clenched with the effort of containing her rage, and Richard could not take his eyes off her mouth, pink and lush. He knew what she tasted like now. He knew it as well as he knew his own breath.
With a curse, he jerked his head and turned away. What sort of monster was he? In the middle of all this, all he could think of was kissing her.
Consuming her.
Making love to her before she despised him.
“I want to know what is going on,” Iris said, her voice clipped with fury.
“Right now I must deal with my sister,” he said.
“No, right now you will tell me—”
He cut her off. “I will tell you what you need to know when you need to know it.”
Which would probably be in the next few minutes, assuming Fleur ever opened her damned door.
“This has something to do with why you married me, doesn’t it?” Iris said.
He turned sharply to face her. She was pale, even paler than normal, but her eyes were blazing.
He couldn’t lie to her any longer. Maybe he wasn’t ready to tell her the truth, but he couldn’t lie.
“Fleur!” he bellowed. “Open the damn—”
The door slammed open, and there she was, wild-eyed and shaking with fury. Richard had never seen his sister thus. Her dark hair had come half-loose from its pins and was sticking out at odd angles. Her cheeks were high with color.
What happened to the sweet, biddable sister he’d once known? He’d sat through tea parties with her, for God’s sake.
“You wished to speak with me?” Fleur voice’s dripped with disdain.
“Not in the hall,” he said viciously, grabbing her arm. He tried to pull her into the bedchamber she shared with Marie-Claire, but she dug in her heels.
“She comes, too,” she said, jerking her head toward Iris.
“She has a name,” Richard ground out.
“So sorry.” Fleur turned to Iris and batted her lashes. “Lady Kenworthy, your presence is humbly requested.”
Richard saw red. “Do not speak to her in that tone of voice.”
“How do mean, like she’s family?”
Richard did not trust himself to speak. Instead he hauled his sister back into her room. Iris followed, although she did not look convinced that she was doing the right thing.
“We’re going to be very close, I know,” Fleur said to Iris, her smile sickeningly sweet. “You have no idea how close.”
Iris eyed her with well-deserved apprehension. “Perhaps I should come anoth—”
“Oh, no,” Fleur cut in. “You should stay.”
“Close the door,” Richard ordered.
Iris did so, and he tightened his grip on Fleur, trying to pull her farther into the room.
“Let go of me,” Fleur hissed, trying to shake him off.
“Will you be reasonable?”
“I have never been unreasonable,” she shot back.
That was open to debate, but he released her arm. He despised the madman she was turning him into.
But then Fleur whipped around to face Iris, her eyes glittering dangerously. “Did Richard tell you about me?”
Iris did not reply immediately. She swallowed, the motion shuddering down her delicate throat, and her eyes flicked to Richard’s before she finally said, “Some.”