The Damaged Bride

Chapter 7

With a tug, he untied the knot and poured the contents into his hand. Dumbfounded, Marcus stared at the glittering contents. The first thing he noticed was his mother’s pearl brooch, the one she’d worn everyday of her life. It had been a gift from her mother, and her mother’s mother as far back as anyone could remember. She was even wearing it in the portrait that hung over the fireplace in this very room. Looking at the rest of the items, he saw that they had all been his mother’s. Other brooches, rings, earrings, and pins, all from his family collection, even her wedding ring.

Touching them each reverently, he tried to remember when he had last seen them. Upon her death, Marcus’s father had packed everything away, but he had never known where. Marcus closed his hand around the small pile of treasure. How had that little wench gotten her hands on these? With an animalistic growl, Marcus hastened to follow Bridgette out into the hall.

Catching her ferociously by the arm as she was reaching the steps Marcus squeezed it tightly, pulling her back to the light of his study.

Roughly, he flung her into the room, slamming the door behind him. It wouldn’t do to be seen by anyone beating his wife on their wedding night.

“Where did you get these?” he demanded, his voice booming off the walls of the room, his fist moving to in a menacing way.

When she didn’t answer, Marcus grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to look at him.

“Where did you get these?” he repeated into her face, holding the brooch so she could see it.

“My grandfather,” she whimpered, knowing that fighting back would only make things worse.

“Your grandfather,” Marcus roared, giving her head a painful shake. “And how in the hell did he get his filthy hands on them?”

“He got your father drunk,” Bridgette replied, the pain of his grip making her weak at the knees, “and cheated him out of the jewels over cards.”

“Why would you give these back to me?” he asked looking deeply into her eyes. “Did you think it would curry favor with me? Perhaps you thought you could buy my heart like your grandfather buys everything?”

“No,” she replied, her voice husky with pain, her eyes wide with fear. “I only wanted to give you a wedding gift.”

“Why?” he demanded, his grip tightening.

“They belonged to you sir,” she breathed, pain making her eyes water. “I knew where my grandfather kept them, and how you must have missed them. So this morning before he led me to the church, I snuck into his study and took them back for you.”

Too stunned to say anything he lowered his raised fist and released her hair

Stumbling against a table, Bridgette fell to the floor, scooting away from Marcus as if the small distance would protect her from him. Reaching the wall, she pulled herself into a protective ball, hoping whatever he was going to do to her would be over quickly.

Seeing Bridgette cowering in fear, Marcus lost some of his rage. Had she really stolen from Douglass for him? If that were true, she was either brave or stupid.

“Get out,” he breathed, his mind unsettled.

When she didn’t move, he reached down and pulled her to her feet, leading her towards the door.

“I said get out,” he repeated, releasing her into the darkness.