Demon's Bride by Zoe Archer Read Free Book Online

Perhaps he had removed his shoes? She fought the absurd urge to peer over the side of the bed and see whether he was merely in his stockings or shod.
    They stared at each other. More surprising than finding him standing so close was the glimmer of trepidation in his eyes. In the brief time she had known Leo, not once had he looked anything less than confident. It was a shock to see this extremely hale and potent man uncertain.
    Was he ... as afraid as she?
    He started to drag his hand through his hair, then stopped and stared at it in disgust.
    “I hate powder.” He stalked away and through the door that led to a closet. Anne had seen the small chamber earlier, and noted it contained a copper bathing tub, a close stool, and a few other items for one’s toilette.
    She now heard the unmistakable sounds of clothing being removed. Velvet coat first, followed by the embroidered waistcoat. Was that the rustle of his shirt?
    All of this disrobing was being done without the assistance of a valet. But this detail was unimportant compared to the very real truth that Leo Bailey was undressing in the very next room. With the door open.
    Heat suffused her face, her limbs. Good Lord, he was taking off his breeches. She tried to picture him, his arms and legs being revealed as each garment came away—and found that she couldn’t. Her mind simply shied away, protective. Anne had seen her brothers and their friends when they went for a bathe in the pond on their country estate. She had seen statuary and paintings, as well. She possessed a reasonable understanding of what the male body looked like without clothing. Like all girls, she was as fascinated as she was terrified by the idea.
    How would such a body feel, so different from her own? Would it be soft? Hard? Certainly hairier. And the male body underwent ... changes ... in order to have sexual congress. A married woman would doubtless be witness to those changes.
    But that had all been theory . This was real , and not twenty feet away.
    The sounds of splashing water trickled out from the closet. He was bathing. A pulse of arousal throbbed through her, unexpected and sudden.
    As she waited, Anne tried to distract herself, and studied the bedchamber. Painted red paper covered the walls, the design depicting thickly knotted and thorny vines surmounted with carnivorous-looking flowers. The fabric comprising the bed hangings and window curtains must have been specially made, for its pattern matched the wall coverings. Two wing-backed chairs stood before the fire, and there was a large mahogany clothespress and an escritoire. Everything in the chamber revealed itself to be the finest quality. Expensive, and new.
    But as for hints of the man who slept in this room, who he was, what he thought, if he had any interests or pastimes. . . Anne found none.
    Perhaps she might discover books in one of the nightstands. She often had several books by her bedside—though she would never sleep in her bed at her parents’ home again. She could not remember if she had packed those books in preparation for removing to Leo’s house. The thought panicked her. She hoped the books were here, somewhere. As though finding an unanticipated friend in a far-distant land.
    But surely Leo had a book or two at his bedside. The need to locate one such volume overwhelmed her. If she could find one, then perhaps it might give her the smallest intimation as to who this man was, this stranger she had married.
    She leaned over and started to open the drawer on the nightstand.
    “What are you looking for?”
    She jerked up, gasping. Leo stood beside the bed, wrapped in a banyan of green-and-black silk, his damp hair loose about his shoulders. Anne had but a moment to take in a few details—his long, bare feet, the hollow of his throat, a sprinkle of dark golden hair across his chest—before the anger in his gaze blocked out all other impressions of him.
    “Nothing, nothing.” She didn’t like the panic in her