A Matter of Temptation by Lorraine Heath Read Free Book Online

Robert’s eyes. Still, should Robert have been less bent on revenge and given his brother a chance to apologize, to explain, to make amends?
    For surely an angel such as she appeared to be wouldn’t dare dance with a devil.
    She turned her head slightly and peered over at him. Her mouth curled up, her gaze grew warm. His heart tightened, and he wished her adoration was truly for him, not his brother.
    Yet Robert couldn’t help but consider that John had taken everything from him. Would it be poetic justice if Robert now took his brother’s lady? Not only her body, but her soul and her heart? To hold them all as though they rightfullybelonged to him—as his brother had held his titles, his inheritance, his position in family and society?
    It was something to ponder, to debate within himself. A possibility that would no doubt keep him awake at night, when he’d so been looking forward to sleeping without care.
    Again he bestowed on her a semblance of a smile that he hoped concealed his misgivings and his perilously treacherous thoughts.
    Forcing his attention away from her, he concentrated on the rituals of the ceremony, kneeling when he was supposed to kneel, repeating words that meant nothing to him as though they meant everything. And in the process, he did at least learn something of great importance: her name was Victoria Alexandria Lambert. Such a large, important-sounding name for such a petite and delicate woman.
    The archbishop made mention of a ring. Robert turned to his best man, then stared at the delicate circle of silver that he’d placed on his gloved palm. He should have known, should have prepared himself. His mother’s ring. He closed his fingers over it and battled for the strength to finish what he’d begun.
    He distanced himself from everyone and everything around him until the vows were exchanged, only then acknowledging that they were both well and truly locked on to this matrimonial path.
    Then the archbishop announced that Robert could kiss the bride. Kiss Victoria Alexandria Hawthorne, the new Duchess of Killingsworth.
    Drawing on his memories of a distant cousin’s wedding, Robert slowly lifted the veil. Dear Lord, but she was lovelier without the mist of lace to blur her features. Her lashes were indeed as long as they looked. Her eyes a deep brown, outlined in gold. He’d never seen eyes such as hers. She had no blemishes, no freckles, no lines formed by worry. Her lips were plump and moist-looking, and he wondered how many times his brother might have kissed them. Would she notice a difference in the shape of his mouth, the feel of his lips against hers, the taste of his kiss?
    He raised his gaze to hers, surprised to find tears shimmering within the dark depths of her eyes. Then he chastised himself because her tears of joy made a mockery of what he’d just done. She thought he’d reaffirmed his love for her, that she’d exchanged vows with the man who had asked for her hand in marriage. She was crying because she was happy, overjoyed at the prospect of being his wife until death parted them. She was crying because she wanted this moment—when he sealed their vows with a kiss—more than anything else in the world.
    “I’m sorry,” he heard himself whispering hoarsely right before he placed a light kiss near the corner of her terribly tempting mouth.
    She seemed as surprised as he by his words andhis actions, her eyes blinking, the tears disappearing, her brow furrowing. And he realized that he might have made a grave error in judgment, might have revealed himself to be not who she thought he was.
    But then the archbishop, in his booming voice, was presenting to the gathered assemblage the Duke and Duchess of Killingsworth, and Robert was left with no recourse except to escort his wife from the church.

Chapter 4
    T orie sat in the open carriage, striving not to take offense that her husband was fairly hugging his side of the conveyance, his gaze averted, as though he wished to be