Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride by Christi Caldwell Read Free Book Online Page A

suckling, tasting. He could imagine them passing over his body, trailing lower, and swallowing him—all of him.
    Christ, where had that thought come from? He gave his head a violent shake and jumped to his feet, startling Sinclair.
    “Let’s go,” he said.
    Sin’s gaze shifted momentarily to a box a good deal left and much farther below. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to remain.” He acknowledged with a sheepish smile.
    Drake spared another glare for the minx who’d upset his plans for the evening and found her watching his exchange with Sin’s; a wide, knowing smile on her face. “Fine,” he grumbled, knowing his tone was more fitting of a small child, but too incensed to care.
    Without a backwards glance, he turned on his heel, and set the curtains fluttering.

 
    Chapter 7
    My Dearest Lord Drake,
    Feeling confident you can keep a secret, I can admit my insatiable curiosity. Father and Sebastian are often availing themselves to brandy. I wonder…what is the appeal? I am therefore planning my own secret experiment ...
    Ever Yours,
    Emmaline
    “Well, this has been a disaster,” Emmaline groused beneath her breath.
    She slipped out of the Viscount Redbrooke’s box. Sophie trailed along at her side. This time a diligent maid followed right on their heels.
    The thrum of the orchestra blended with the chorus filled the auditorium. The haunting melody echoed throughout the theatre and lent a dramatic feel to their movements.
    The high E belonging to a particular soprano, Emmaline decided , was largely flat. It rent the opera house, muffled only slightly by the chatter of the ton . Her opinion had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the high E came from the mouth of her betrothed’s mistress.
    Sophie’s brow furrowed . She glanced over her shoulder toward her brother’s box. “Mother is going to be livid.”
    The Viscountess had not made one mention of the ladies’ visit to Lord Drake’s box. Her erect form and snapping eyes had conveyed the extent of her displeasure. It also explained why Sophie’s maid dogged their movements.
    Beset by a n onset of guilt, Emmaline bit the inside of her lip. “She might not have noticed.”
    Sophie wrung her hands . “She would be the only one in the theatre, then.”
    On the heels of that statement, Emmaline imagined Sebastian and Mother’s displeasure the following morning. She groaned aloud. In the end, it would appear the first battle had been won by Lord Drake.
    “I do believe I have lost the first round, Sophie.” It chafed to admit defeat of any kind. To be defeated by Lord Drake, however was not to be countenanced.
    Sophie paused and directed her attention to her maid. “Leave us.” The maid’s mouth set in a mutinous line, but one more look from Sophie and she slipped away.
    When the maid was no longer in sight, Sophie returned her attention to Emmaline. “You couldn’t have expected it would be easy?”
    Emmaline’s gaze wandered to a point over Sophie’s shoulder. “No, I didn’t, but I…I…”
    Apparently she took pity on her friend. Sophie claimed Emmaline’s hands in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “From what you told me, Lord Drake had been so impressed by your showing with Whitmore. I just don’t understand.” Sophie tugged her hand. “Now, come.”
    Emmaline allowed her friend to drag her forward. She didn’t understand it, herself. Any of it. She could only speculate as to Lord Drake’s disinterest in her over the years. “Mayhap I was wrong. Mayhap I was ruminating fantasies about what Lord Drake felt that day. He is such a gentleman, he would have come to any lady’s rescue.”
    A tall, solid figure stepped into their path. Sophie managed to step out of the way even as Emmaline collided into a hard muscled chest. She gasped. She might as well have hit a wall—a large, immoveable wall.
    Emmaline faltered, and would have fallen if Sophie didn’t grab her arm just as the gentleman reached out to steady