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

hoping the urges would win; it was also tempting her to encourage them with the feminine tactics other girls employed.
    But that was not fair.
    They had turned into the narrow drive leading to the stables. Though the rain beat harder now, Gwendolyn was aware mainly of the beating of her own heart.
    She did not want to go away defeated, yet she did not want to win by unfair means.
    She supposed the display of her limbs—however much her immodest mode of riding had been dictated by the need for haste and the unavailability of a sidesaddle—constituted unfair means.
    Consequently, as they rode into the stable yard, she headed for the mounting block.
    But Rawnsley was off his horse before she reached it, and at the gelding’s side in almost the same moment.
    In the next, he was reaching up and grasping her waist.
    His hands were warm, his grasp firm and sure. She could feel the warmth spreading outward, suffusing her body, while she watched the muscles of his arms bunch under the wet, clinging shirtsleeves.
    He lifted her up as easily as if she’d been a fairy sprite. Though she wasn’t in the least anxious that he’d drop her, she grasped his powerful shoulders. It was reflex. Instinctive.
    He brought her down slowly, and he did not let go even after her feet touched the ground.
    He looked down at her, and his intent yellow gaze trapped her own, making her heart pound harder yet.
    “The time will come when I will have no power over you,” he said, his low tones making her nerve ends tingle. “When my mind crumbles, little witch, I shall be at your mercy. Believe me, I’ve considered that. I’ve asked myself what you will do with me then, what will become of me.”
    At that moment, one troubling question was answered.
    He was aware of the danger he was in. His fears were the same as those she felt for him. His reason was still in working order.
    But he continued before she could reassure him.
    “I can guess what will happen, but it doesn’t seem to matter, because I’m the man I always was. A death sentence has changed nothing.” His hands tightened on her waist. “You should have left me in the mire,” he told her, his eyes burning into her. “It was not pleasant—yet Providence does not grant all its creatures a pretty and painless demise. And I’m ready enough for mine. But you came and fished me out, and now . . .”
    He let go abruptly and stepped back. “It’s too late.”
    He was in no state to listen to reassurances, Gwendolyn saw. If he was angry with himself and didn’t trust that self, he was not likely to trust anything she said. He would believe she was humoring him, as though he were a child.
    And so she gave a brisk, businesslike nod. “That sounds like a yes to me,” she said. “Against your better judgment, evidently, but a yes all the same.”
    “Yes, drat you—drat the lot of you—I’ll do it,” he growled.
    “I am glad to hear it,” she said.
    “Glad, indeed. You’re desperate for your hospital, and I’m the answer to your maidenly prayers.” He turned away. “I’m desperate, too, it seems. After a year’s celibacy, I should probably agree to marry your grandmother, Devil confound me.”
    He strode down the pathway to the house.

 
    Chapter 3
    D ORIAN M ADE STRAIGHT for the library, the red-haired witch close on his heels.
    He flung the door open.
    Abonville was pacing in front of the fireplace.
    Genevieve was reading a book.
    Bertie was building a house of cards.
    Dorian strode in and paused a few feet from the threshold.
    Abonville stopped short and stared. Genevieve laid aside her book and looked up. Bertie leapt from his chair, the cards flying about him and fluttering to the carpet.
    “By Jupiter’s thunderbolts!” he cried. “What’s happened to you, Cat?”
    “Your cousin drove me into a mire,” Dorian said levelly. “Then she fished me out. Then we agreed to wed. Today. You may stand as my groomsman, Bertie.”
    The two elders did not so much as raise