Just For Her. Katherine O' Neal

acting like it. So let me tell you what you’re going to do: In two weeks—on the ninth of July—I’m giving a reception for the Shah. You will plan it. To give face to the man, you will see to it that every one of your titled friends who happens to be anywhere near this coast is present. I want none of your flighty American friends in attendance. And if it isn’t the most lavish gathering ever seen on this blasted coast, you will answer to me. Throughout this bacchanalia, you are going to be hanging onto my arm, smiling adoringly up into my face, and oohing like a smitten schoolgirl at every word that ruddy Hottentot says to you. I don’t care if it kills you.”

      She pulled on her arm. “I won’t. I don’t care what you do to me. If you think you’re going to waltz into my house and give me orders, you’re even more demented than I thought.”

      “Demented?” he snarled, his face black with fury. “I’ll show you demented.” He dropped her arm, picked up the glass of citronade, and hurled it with all his might. It shattered against her father’s portrait, ripping a tear across the canvas.

      She stood staring at it, shaking uncontrollably. It was the only portrait she had of her father. And now, like the man, it too had been destroyed by DeRohan.

      She couldn’t find the words to express her revulsion. After several moments she settled for a whispered, “I despise you.”

      In a flinty tone, he replied, “Hate me all you want, so long as you do as I say.”

      “You can’t even conceive of the depths of my hatred for you.”

      He yanked her around to face him. “And if you ever again think to defy me—if you cut your hair or shave your head or whisper something you shouldn’t to the Shah—I may just have to punish you in such a way that you’ll understand I’m not to be crossed again.”

      “And how’s that?” she asked scathingly. There was nothing he could possibly promise that could be worse than what he’d already done.

      “You’ve broken your word with your rebellion. I may just have to break mine.”

      “Meaning?”

      “Meaning, Juliana, that I may just decide you’re right. This charade has gone on long enough. It may be high time that I claimed my true rights as your husband by taking my lawful place in your bed. Not because I especially want you. But because I know how it would make your flesh crawl.”