Wicked in Your Arms by Sophie Jordan Read Free Book Online Page A

matter-of-factly, almost dispassionately, over the issue of her beddable-ness galled her.
    â€œBut as a wife?” he continued as if she had not spoken. “Indeed not. Your age alone would offend my grandfather.”
    â€œSo long as you’re picking a wife to please your granddaddy.” She smirked.
    That earned her a glare, for which she felt immense satisfaction. She needn’t be the only one discomfited.
    â€œI’ve more than my wishes to consider when choosing a wife.” His voice fell hard and flat. “I’ve a duty to my country.” He waved a hand in her direction. “It would be foolish and irresponsible to consider you. I should be lucky to beget a single child, much less the half score I require.”
    Her hands flew back to her hips. “Holy hellfire! Is there no end to your conceit and arrogance? This isn’t the Middle Ages. Wives are more than broodmares, you know.”
    â€œI’m not merely looking for a wife. I’m looking for a princess. A future queen.”
    That silenced her. What did she know about such matters, after all?
    â€œAside from your age, your speech and manner hardly befit a princess—”
    â€œI quite understand you. I’m not wife material for you. I don’t recall ever vying for the position.” Hot indignation swarmed over her in tiny hot prick points. “It’s a good thing that you have no interest in me,” she said, deliberately forgetting that he said she would do well in his bed. “And I most assuredly have none in you.” She swallowed, hating the way her voice sounded tight and out of breath.
    He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Indeed, you won’t do at all as the future queen of Maldania, despite having a certain . . . raw appeal.” He angled his head again and a liquid-dark lock of hair fell across his forehead, making him look rakish. She could almost excuse the simmer in her blood. For all that he said, all that he was a cad, he was darkly, irresistibly handsome. And yet that changed nothing. As much as her blood simmered, so did her temper. He was an insulting boor and she would not abide him another moment. “So let us discuss how firm you are on the matter of marriage. Are you opposed to another type of arrangement?”
    She glanced around, searching wildly for anything she might use as a weapon. “You’re abominable! Is there no end to your—”
    â€œHonesty?” he supplied with a bold lift of an eyebrow.
    â€œNo,” she shot back. “Wretchedness. You can’t make an indecent proposition and pride yourself on honesty.” She shook her head. “It simply does not work that way.”
    â€œI merely pointed out you were appealing and I would perhaps care for more of your company.”
    With her face still flaming, she lifted her skirts and moved for the door, ready to put His Bloody Highness behind her for good. She felt sorry for whatever female married him. She could well imagine listening to him pontificate over her failings all the days of their union. Grier would jump off a cliff first.
    â€œI wouldn’t leave just yet.”
    She paused, looking over her shoulder at the much too handsome wretch. She couldn’t help thinking that it was vastly unfair that such a wicked man should be wrapped in such packaging. It hid all that was twisted inside him. “And why not?”
    â€œRather soon on the heels of Lord and Lady Kirkendale, is it not? You don’t want them to spot you leaving.” He lowered himself to the bed, stretching out long legs before him as he observed her with his keen lion’s eyes.
    He smiled then. The suddenness of that grin stole her breath. Austere and unsmiling, he was a sight to behold. Smiling like this . . . She was in trouble.
    She scowled at him. His smile deepened, flashing blinding white teeth. Apparently her scowl did not affect him. She was not sure much of