Hostage to Love (Entangled Suspense) by Maya Blake Read Free Book Online Page A

wasn’t naïve enough to wish for the happily-ever-after expounded by fairytales, but he hadn’t expected the relative contentment and incredible chemistry they’d shared to disappear so quickly either.
    The cargo plane bounced through turbulence. His arms tightened around his wife’s slender form and pulled her closer. She was here now, safe where she belonged. And this time he’d keep her there. No matter what.
    The vows they’d taken had to matter for something. He would not accept that his marriage had failed before it had barely begun. Neither would he permit the unique compatibility they’d found—in and out of bed—to be so easily dismissed. He’d been around long enough to know that was very rare.
    His time as a Marine had also taught him that a hostage rescue such as the one they’d pulled off rarely came without casualties on both sides. Mwana’s side had suffered in this skirmish, and he was more than all right with that.
    He shifted as his gut churned with residual adrenaline. What he wasn’t all right with was the fact that Belle has been so stunned to see him. Had she really dismissed him so completely from her mind? Had she so condemned her husband and her marriage to some distant metaphorical trash heap that she’d never dreamed he’d come and find her? Well, too damned bad.
    If nothing else, she owed him a long, detailed explanation, preferably one riddled with apology.
    She’d deserted their marriage without so much as a Dear John letter, but he had her back now, and he intended for her to deal with him being around longer than a mere six months or give him a damned good reason why not.
    She gave a sharp cry in her fitful sleep. He drew her even closer, unable to resist the familiar feel of her in his arms despite the anger tightening his chest, and brushed his lips over her temple until she calmed. His gut churned harder until he feared for his insides. Long-unused breathing exercises finally forced relaxation into his muscles.
    The discomfort of the plane forgotten, his mind slid to more pleasant memories, to the first time he’d met Belle.
    All through the sixth and final round of the charity polo match at Edenhall, he’d felt a gaze, a watchful presence following him—so intense, his lack of concentration had nearly lost them the match. Nearly.
    He wasn’t a man who took failure lightly, so even with the powerful awareness raising the hairs at the back of his neck, he’d ridden his horse hard, struck his mallet with relentless force against the ball, until the game was won.
    Dismounting, he’d zeroed in on the shaded terrace where the guests sat. His eyes had probed, hunted, ignoring the shouts of congratulations and the avid looks of skimpily clad socialites vying for his attention as he’d searched, his gaze slashing back and forth.
    Until at last he’d seen her, standing back and apart from the rest, the drink in her hand full and untouched. Her own gaze riveted on him.
    She’d remained watchful as he’d taken off his helmet and approached, his pulse hammering through his veins at her glorious beauty. With the sunlight from the back of the terrace streaming onto her lightly tanned skin, she’d been bathed in an angel-like halo.
    Everything had taken on a surreal quality. The guests on the terrace had receded beyond his periphery, like shadowy figures in the background of a painting. The only thing he could focus on, think about, was the need to reach her, talk to her, touch her. He hadn’t dared to blink, fearing she might disappear, a figment of his imagination.
    At last he’d reached her, and with a single shaky breath he’d known he had to have her. From the start, the chemistry had sizzled red-hot, and he, well, he was no monk. But apart from the familiar sexual tug, he’d sensed something else. In her eyes a deeper knowledge had probed, touching a deep, dark place within him he didn’t like to explore too often, if at all. It had disturbed him a little, but not