The Mad Earl's Bride by Loretta Chase Read Free Book Online Page A

steady drizzle, and lightning skittered at the edges of the moorland. Still, they were not far from the house now, and traveling on lower ground than before.
    He seemed to be mulling the matter over.
    Gwendolyn waited silently, resisting the urge to pray. She did not wish to tempt Fate into more practical jokes. It had already landed him in a mire.
    She contented herself with a few cautious sidelong glances at the man she’d come to marry. The rain was washing some of the muck away, and even though his face was still dirty, there was no mistaking the nobly chiseled profile.
    He was terribly handsome.
    She had not expected that. But then, she was used to expecting the worst. The possibility of finding him attractive had not entered her calculations. She was adjusting those calculations when he spoke again.
    “I came here to finish my time in peace,” he said. “I hoped that if I kept to myself in this isolated place and didn’t bother anybody, no one would bother me.”
    “But we have come and turned everything upside down,” she said. “I can understand how frustrating that is.”
    He turned to her. “Abonville won’t leave me alone, will he?”
    “I shall do my utmost to persuade him to respect your wishes,” she said cautiously. She couldn’t promise Abonville would keep away forever, yet she did not want to use the duc as a threat. She did not want Rawnsley to feel he must hide behind a woman’s skirts. One of the most disagreeable aspects of being ill was feeling helpless and utterly dependent upon others.
    “If I do as he asks and marry you, he’ll probably leave me in peace, at least for a time,” Rawnsley said. “The trouble is, I should have you about instead, and yet . . .” His gaze drifted to her leg, then upward. After studying her face for a brooding moment, he returned his attention to the track ahead.
    “I have not had a woman in nearly a twelve-month,” he said tightly. “I had determined to put such matters behind me. Apparently, that species of saintliness is not in my nature, and a year is not nearly long enough to cultivate it. I should need decades, I suppose,” he said bitterly.
    Gwendolyn had not come expecting the kind of “saintliness” he referred to. She had been prepared to go to bed with him and try to make a baby regardless of what he looked like or how he behaved. If it had not seemed like cruel and unusual punishment then, it could hardly alarm or disgust her now. If a long period of celibacy—and for a man, a year must seem like eternity—and a glimpse of her leg was swaying his judgment in her favor, that was fine with her.
    “If you are saying you do not find me abhorrent,” she said, “I am glad.”
    “You have no idea what might be demanded of you,” he growled. “You have no idea what kind of man I am.”
    “Considering what I shall eventually gain by this marriage, it would be absurd, not to mention ungrateful, of me to fret about your personal flaws,” she said. “It is not as though I am perfect, either. I have made it clear that my motives are mercenary. You have seen for yourself that I am disobedient and sharp-tongued. And I know I am no great beauty. I am also obstinate. That runs in the family, especially among the females of my generation. The time may come, in fact, when you will view your loss of reason as a blessed relief.”
    “Miss—miss . . . Hell, I can’t remember,” he said. “I know it isn’t Trent, but—”
    “The name is Adams,” she said. “Gwendolyn Adams.”
    He scowled. “Miss Adams, I should like to know whether you are trying to convince me to marry you or to kill myself.”
    “I merely wished to point out how pointless it is, in the circumstances, to quibble about our respective character flaws,” she said. “And I wished to be honest with you.”
    A wicked part of her did not wish to be honest. She realized he was worried about his male urges clouding his judgment. The wicked part of her was not simply