Come the Dawn by Christina Skye Read Free Book Online Page A

down at her. His mouth hardened and he slowly pulled away. “I am afraid there has been some mistake.”
    India searched the lean face, the gray, cool eyes, seeing now the changes she had not noticed before. “It has been very hard for you, hasn’t it? You look older, harder. I suppose I do, too.” She laughed raggedly. “But none of that matters now. You’re back, and I have so much to tell you.” For a moment regret darkened her eyes. “But there will be time enough for questions and explanations. For now, let me simply touch you and convince myself you’re really alive.”
    Her hands reached out, settling on the hard muscles at his shoulders. She felt him flinch at even that light touch.
    “Dev?”
    He muttered a curse, staring at the pale fingers spread against the dark wool. “My name is Thornwood.”
    “Not to me.”
    “We are — closely acquainted?” the man before her asked roughly.
    “You are my husband and the man I love,” India said with quiet dignity. “Don’t you know me?”
    Thornwood pulled his arm from beneath her hand and frowned at the butler, who was watching them with avid curiosity. “That will be all, Chilton,” he said curtly. “Leave us now.”
    “Of course, my lord.”
    “What’s wrong, Dev? What cruel game are you playing?”
    “It is no game.”
    India still expected him to throw out his arms and pull her against him, his eyes gleaming as they had in Brussels.
    She had expected it, but he made no move toward her, and the pain of the discovery was like a sword cut to her heart. How could he stare at her so coldly with no hint of memory or emotion in his eyes?
    “I’m afraid there has been a grave misunderstanding, Miss—”
    “Lady India Delamere. In truth, Lady Thornwood. As if you didn’t know.”
    “Have you come like the others, all agog to snag a bit of gossip about the newly returned earl?” Thornwood’s voice was harsh with cynicism.
    “Not for gossip. I have come to see the man I love. The man I thought loved me. The man I married in Brussels just before Waterloo.” India’s voice trembled. “Yet I begin to wonder if you can possibly be the same man.”
    “My dear woman, a dozen females have already been to see me tonight. Each one claimed a prior and very intimate acquaintance.” Thorne’s voice was chill. “You must excuse my skepticism, even though you are the first to claim marriage.”
    India swayed, her thoughts in turmoil as she studied the familiar features which now seemed to belong to a cold, hostile stranger. “But it’s true.”
    “Is it? And where is this ceremony supposed to have taken place?”
    India’s hands tensed. “Don’t joke. Not about this, Dev. It’s not like you.”
    “Perhaps you don’t know anything about me, madame. Perhaps I am not who you think I am.”
    “How can you speak to me so? I have waited so long. Any moment I thought you’d come striding through the smoke and chaos, jaunty as ever. But no matter how I kept waiting and hoping, you never came back.” Her voice caught and a small, broken sound tore from her throat.
    Thornwood cursed harshly. “I think you had better come inside and sit down.”
    “I don’t want to sit down. I want to touch you. I want to kiss you,” she said huskily.
    A vein hammered at the Earl of Thornwood’s forehead. “There is something I must … explain.”
    India brushed at her eyes, tears glinting in the candlelight. “Explain? What do you mean?”
    “Not here,” the man with her husband’s face said grimly. For a moment there was infinite sadness in his voice. “In the study. I find that I require a drink.” He bowed tightly. “After you, madame.”
    India moved inside, her body tense. Pain dulled her fine eyes as she dimly registered the rows of shelves covered with well-worn books from floor to ceiling. Here and there were scattered exquisite wooden models of Spanish galleons, Chinese junks, and sleek English square-riggers. Newspapers spilled across one corner