Eloping with the Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword #3)(39)

“You are wickedly charming when you want to be, were exceedingly giving and friendly before we wed. And then, since I became your wife, you all but ignore me unless someone else is in the room,” she said.

“We are not having this conversation now.”

“Yes, we are, because were there not all these people here, you would have already walked away. Besides, you are the one who said we should talk while we danced.”

He wanted to argue, but he knew she was right, and she was right about his behavior. It was no wonder that she was confused. He’d behaved as if he were at least three different men.

“It’s complicated,” he said.

“That’s stupid.”

Two couples danced close to them, so they stopped talking and smiled at the other dancers.

“Perhaps I’ll be able to explain it to you someday,” he said, hoping to placate her.

“Until then I simply have to endure this behavior? Not knowing whom I’ll be with on any given day, or even if you’ll speak to me? That is unfair.”

“I know.”

“I wish it were as easy for me to turn off aspects of my character. It must make things simpler,” she said.

“Isabel, I am not a different person than the one you first met. Everything you’ve seen is me. Perhaps not all the most flattering parts of me.”

“You are hot and cold with me. One moment kissing me as if I’m the only woman you could desire, and the next speaking to me as if we’d only just met. I know I’m naive, but I can’t believe this is how marriages work.”

“No.” He met her gaze. “Never for a moment doubt that I desire you, Isabel.” He probably shouldn’t have told her that, but she’d had such pain in her voice. He could only torment her so much. Not to mention the torment he endured. He would not be able to resist her forever. He’d come to terms with that; he need only prevent her from getting with child.

…

Isabel should be exhausted. The ball had lasted way into the night, but now that she had resolved to seduce her husband, she found herself energized and fully alert. She took several deep breaths, eyeing herself in the mirror. Gone seemed to be the girl from St. Bart’s and before her a new creature. The thin gauzy shift shimmered over her body, hinting at her curves but not revealing them. She’d taken her hair down and allowed it simply to hang about her shoulders in thick dark curls. She could do this. She was his wife, he her husband. Their marriage would not be completely legal, therefore she would not be completely safe, until they’d consummated it.

She shivered at the thought of Jason’s hands on her skin. The kiss they’d shared the other day had nearly had her crawling onto his lap, and she could scarcely imagine what it would be like if he unleashed all his passion on her. He desired her; he’d told her as much at their wedding ball.

They hadn’t married under normal circumstances. Even the standard London marriages brought equal assets to both parties: a wealthy heiress got a better title and standing in Society, whereas the penniless earl filled his coffers once again. But Jason had married her simply to prevent her from marrying someone else to protect her and his country, likely not in that order. And perhaps he’d needed time to grow accustomed to such a situation. They might have a passionless marriage, but even if only for this one night, he needed to make it real.

She took one last glance at herself, then rolled her eyes and headed for the door.





Chapter Ten


Jason had left the ball and immediately went and spent the better part of an hour upstairs working his body into a frenzy of sweat and not stopping until his muscles ached. After bathing, he’d retired to the sitting area in his bedchamber where he began cleaning his weapon, as he knew trying to sleep would be futile. There was a rap at the door, and he looked up from his pistol.

“Enter,” he said. His hands stilled as Isabel stepped into his room. Although she was completely covered by her shift, the thin, filmy fabric left little to his imagination as it captured each curve. He forced his gaze to her face. “Everything all right?”

“Yes.” She came forward and lowered herself onto the sofa with him, although she left some distance between them.

He went back to cleaning his pistol, making certain to be as thorough as possible. He continued polishing the steel, so much so he was surprised he hadn’t wiped off the embossing. As long as his hands were occupied, he couldn’t reach out and touch her, which was more than tempting.

She inched herself closer to him.

“Isabel, did you come in here for a reason?”

“I want you to kiss me again.”

Her boldness surprised him. And aroused him. Innocence shone in her eyes, and he remembered the feel of her body pressed to his as they’d waltzed. How everyone had commented about what a stunning couple they’d made. Some believed they were desperately in love, while others whispered about how there must be an impending baby coming because, clearly, theirs was a match made from passion.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” he said. He wanted to tell her the truth about why he couldn’t lose himself with her. But she deserved more, certainly more than he could give her.

She looked at her hands, folded in her lap. “You did tell me you desired me, so I assumed—”

“You do not believe what I said, that I want you?”