The Deception by Joan Wolf Read Free Book Online Page B

same way I felt threatened by Charlwood. This thought gave me a little courage, and I said, “I have told you I was sorry, my lord. I will do whatever you want me to.”
    His eyes flicked to the bed behind me, then back to my face. “Will you?” he asked.
    My heart began to thud. The thought of going to bed with such an angry male scared me to death. I do not welsh on my bargains, however. I made myself as tall as I could and said baldly, “Yes.”
    “So,” he said, looking me up and down in a way that brought color stinging to my cheeks. “Are you pregnant, then?”
    I could only stare at him, stupefied.
    His mouth was compressed in a bitter line. “Charlwood would feel that his revenge was truly complete if at the same time he could saddle me with a wife I did not want and an heir that was not mine.”
    I felt a healthy rush of anger surge through my veins. “I am not pregnant!” I shouted it at him, so furious was I at the suggestion.
    “Are you not?” And before I realized what was happening, he had reached out, grasped my arms, and pulled me against him. Instinctively I tried to push against him to get away, but the hands that were gripping my arms held me immobile. The next day I would have bruises where he had gripped me. I opened my lips to protest, but before I could speak his mouth had come down on mine. I felt his temper in its brutal hardness. My own anger flared in response, and I tried to kick him. He lifted me right off my feet and held me against his chest, his mouth still clamped on mine.
    He was holding me as if I weighed nothing. I was helpless and furious but—strangely—I was not frightened. I tried ineffectively to kick him once more.
    Then, abruptly, something changed in the way he was kissing me. The pressure of his lips became gentler, and his body bent over mine in a way that was possessive without being threatening. I felt the angry resistance in my own body beginning to drain away, felt myself beginning to soften and melt into him.
    I have no idea how long we stayed like that. Dimly I was aware of the crackle of the fire, of the sound of the trees rustling gently outside the window. He let me slide slowly down along him until I was back on my feet again, then his right hand moved up to the back of my head, cupping it in his palm, supporting it as he bent me backward. I closed my eyes.
    He pushed me away with such abruptness that I stumbled and almost fell.
    “No,” he said. His voice sounded hoarse and he was breathing as if he had been running. All the pulses in my body were hammering, and I stared at him in bewilderment. I was stunned by what had just happened between us.
    “I am not going to make matters worse by consummating this farce of a marriage,” he said between his teeth.
    He had pulled my hair loose from its pins and it was beginning to slide down my back. My lips were probably bruised and swollen. I backed away a few more steps and said, with as much dignity as I could manage, “I was not the one who initiated that kiss, my lord.”
    He had gotten his breathing under control. His own hair had become disordered and was hanging over his forehead. I felt a sudden, illicit desire to reach up and run my fingers through it. Like a child resisting temptation, I crossed my arms and tucked my hands under my armpits.
    “You will remain here at Lambourn for the time being,” he said, ignoring my comment about the kiss. “The marriage will have to be acknowledged—Charlwood will certainly see to that—but he can’t make me introduce you to society as my wife.”
    There was obviously a history of bad blood between my uncle and Greystone, but this definitely was not the time to make inquiries. He was looking as if he expected a reply from me. “That is so, my lord,” I said politely.
    My submissiveness did not seem to please him.
    “I will not be spending the night here,” he said. “I am going to ride on to Greystone Abbey.”
    Greystone Abbey was his chief estate, and