“What the bloody hell’s going on here?” roared Nye from the other end of the bar. He had just come through the other door with a large barrel over his shoulder. “You pair of bastards step away from her and Mina—get back in the kitchen this minute!” he bellowed.
Mina’s face flamed scarlet. Thanks to Nye’s yelling and bawling everyone had turned to look at her with interest. “Don’t you speak to me like that, William Nye!” she replied, her spine stiffening with outrage.
“Mina!” cried Effie, standing up from her table. “How are you, my darlin’?”
“Bloody hell, I didn’t expect her to last more’n a week at most!” someone else observed loudly nearby.
“I’m very well, thank you, Effie,” Mina replied with as much dignity as she could muster. “How are you?”
“Never mind that!” Nye boomed. “You have no business being in here—get out!”
Mina gasped, turned on her heel and hurried back out of the room, blinking back tears. Before she even knew it, she had rushed out of the front door and was hurrying across the courtyard as fast as her legs could carry her. Dimly, she heard the door burst open behind her and someone in boots striding across the cobbles behind her. She had just reached the gatepost when strong arms closed about her from behind.
“Oh no, you don’t my girl,” Nye said lividly, as he lifted her off her feet. “What the hell is it with you and taking off running?” When she started struggling, he swung her around so she faced back toward the inn, then did a double take when he saw the tears streaking down her face. “Mina!”
“Leave me alone!” she flung at him, dragging her forearm across her face, and trying to barge her way passed him back toward the inn.
He seized her about the waist again, hauling her against him. “Why are you crying?” he demanded roughly.
“I’m not speaking to you!” she told him shakily as he placed two large hands on either side of her face.
He lowered his face to hers. “You know, I didn’t mean it like that!” he said in a low, compelling voice. “I just meant the taproom, not—”
“I don’t care what you meant!” Mina flung at him her voice raw and throbbing. She shoved at his chest hard, but he didn’t move back an inch. “I don’t even want to look at you!”
“Mina!” He sounded frustrated. “Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”
“Our marriage you mean?” she demanded. “No, you’re quite right. Trying to make the best of it is an utter waste of my time!”
His expression hardened. “That is not what I meant, and you damned well know it!”
“If you would be so kind as to release me,” she said icily. “Then I will get back to my rightful place in the kitchen.” The effect she thought was probably ruined by her tear-stained face, but she couldn’t do anything about that right now.
He gave a low growl. “If you take off again, I’ll put you over my knee.” He seized her chin and tipped it up to meet his gaze. “Don’t test me.”
“Just leave me alone, Nye,” she said, suddenly exhausted from all the emotion. “I’ve had enough.”
“What does that mean?” he asked angrily, grabbing her arm. “Mina?”
“I’m tired of all this,” she said wearily.
“No, you’re not!” he growled at her, tightening his grip on her upper arms, and shaking her roughly. “You’re in your bloody element, so don’t lie to me!” Mina caught her breath and stared at him. In her element? What did he mean by that? “Don’t tell me you’ve had enough of this because I don’t accept that. I won’t accept it.”
“Wha—?” Mina tensed, but it made no difference as he dragged her against him and crushed his mouth to hers in a cruel, possessive kiss that mashed her lips against her teeth. His fingers drove into the hair at her nape, almost painfully, holding her fast so she could not escape his embrace. Instinctively she knew that to struggle would be a mistake, so she remained rigidly still, until he released her, his breathing ragged and the light of battle in his eye. Mina’s gaze shifted over his shoulder to the faces all pressed against the inn windows.
“We have an audience,” she pointed out.
“Let them look,” he hurled back at her, his fingers closing about her wrist and dragging her in his wake. “If it means I’ll be spared the sight of you being accosted by all and sundry, then so be it.”
“Accosted?” she spluttered. Once he’d hauled her over the threshold, to her surprise he towed her toward the public bar and not the kitchen. “Nye?” she asked, trying to come to a halt and starting to panic. His strength made her dragging feet pointless.
He flung back the door and hauled her up against his side, his hand at her waist. “Everyone!” he announced. “This is my wife and I’ll thank you all to remember it!” He glared about the room aggressively and Mina winced. “Anyone got anything to say about that?” he challenged.
“What’s her name, Nye?” someone called out jocularly.
“Mrs. Nye, to you,” he replied, lip curling. “Anyone else?” His narrowed gaze seemed to wither any remaining questions on their tongues. “You’ll see her about the place this weekend, but I’ll ask you to keep a civil tongue in your heads or you’ll answer to me. Am I understood?”
There were some cleared throats and shuffling of feet at that. “Aye, you’re understood,” another voice responded to a chorus of ‘ayes’. Mina tried not to meet any gazes, she felt so mortified.
Nye lowered his mouth to her ear. “You can invite Effie and any of the womenfolk you want to sit with you in the parlor,” he said, surprising the life out of her. “But if you allow anyone to be over familiar, I won’t be answerable for my actions, Mina,” he warned direly.
When he released her, Mina stumbled forward before recovering her step. She lifted her chin and picked her way through the tables and chairs toward Effie’s bright puce dress. When she reached the table, she realized Effie was sat with the raven-tressed partner of Mr. Jones. Today she was wearing a striking dress of striped black and white and a matching hat with a black feather.
“Here, darlin’,” said Effie, drawing a seat back for her. “Park yourself here wiv’ us girls. Can’t think when I’ve been so entertained! Allow me to introduce Miss Dottie Jones,” she said, gesturing toward her companion. Then casting a shrewd look over Mina, she nudged her own glass toward her. “Take a swig of this, you’ll feel more the thing then.”
Mina nodded toward Dottie who was surveying her with amused incredulity and accepted Effie’s kind gesture by taking a tiny sip of the gin. She managed it without pulling a face or shuddering. “Thank you,” she said, returning the glass to Effie with a forced smile. “I’m afraid Nye won’t permit me to sit in the public bar,” she admitted. “But if either of you ladies would like to join me in my private parlor, then I would be glad to receive you at any time. I can generally be found in there or the kitchen.”
“My, my,” drawled Dottie Jones. “A private parlor, we are privileged.”