Eloping with the Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword #3)(46)

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of her hair. He was behaving like a lovesick fool. Is that what had happened? Was he falling in love with his wife? No, that couldn’t be it. He barely knew her. He knew one thing. He needed to separate himself from her before he did something he regretted.

He’d left her nestled in the blankets he had wrapped around them. He’d done his best to wash the memory of their shared night from his skin, trying to rid himself of the images of her in the throes of her release. Though he suspected that picture was forever imprinted on his mind. He’d found his way down to his study where he’d poured himself a drink. He never drank in the mornings, but today seemed the perfect time to start.

He’d managed to control his desires with her last night, but in doing so it seemed he’d weakened his mind so much he’d woken up fancying that he had fallen in love with her. Ridiculous. It was obvious his desire was playing tricks with his mind.

He needed to pound on someone, but he couldn’t very well go upstairs and work his body so hard he forgot everything but the feel of his muscles. Isabel was likely still snuggled up there in his sanctuary. He downed the brandy and shook his head against its sharpness. He swore.

“I would have thought this morning would bring more pleasantries than that,” Isabel said from behind him. Her voice purred over his skin as effectively as if she’d touched him. What the devil was the matter with him? He’d never had a woman affect him so strongly. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments before turning to face her.

By then she’d closed most of the distance between them and stood so close, he nearly stumbled backward. How could this slip of a woman affect him so?

“Did you get disturbing news?” she asked, her head tilted and her hair, which remained tousled from their makeshift bed, framing her face in the most perfect way.

She was ridiculously beautiful. Her brows rose, reminding him she’d asked him a question.

“What? No, nothing such as that,” he said.

She smiled slowly, seductively. “I was surprised you were gone when I awoke.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

She bit down on her lip, eyed him for a moment, then reached out as if to touch him, but he effectively dodged her, moving away. He moved to his desk to sort through the post, though he already knew what each contained since he’d read them the day before. But he still was uncertain if he could maintain control now.

“Jason? Last night—”

“Yes?” he asked.

She came to stand across the desk from him. Something close to sadness filled her eyes, but she quickly masked it and offered him a smile. “It was very nice.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I realize I’m inexperienced, but I was expecting there to be…more,” she said.

“There is more, much more, and we shall explore that another time.” Again, he looked down at the letters and invitations, their ink blurring as he stared.

“Then you do intend to consummate our marriage?”

He released a slow breath. “Not precisely.”

She was silent for a moment; a frown weighed heavy on her brow. “I don’t understand. Am I not your wife? Should I not, then, be your wife in every way?” Her chin rose ever so slightly, and in that moment, as disheveled as she was, she looked every bit the royal princess she truly was.

It was precisely the reminder he needed to stand firm in this. “There is much that you do not understand.”

“Then explain it to me.” Her arms crossed over her chest.

But, damnation, he didn’t want to tell her the truth, didn’t want to see the disgust in her eyes, not when he’d found a way for them to enjoy each other’s bodies. “Can you not be happy with our marriage the way it is?”

“The way it is? How you ignore me some of the time, then drive me to madness with your kisses other moments? No, Jason, I cannot be happy with that.” She shook her head. “Why must our marriage be like this? Because you did not select me? Because you were forced to marry me out of some sense of patriotic duty?”

“No, nothing like that,” he said.

“Then tell me. You owe me that much.”

She was right, he did owe her that, but her knowing the truth about him would change everything. It would likely break the fragile connection they’d formed last night, though he continuing to keep secrets from her would almost certainly do the same.

“I am not who you think I am, Isabel.”

“You are not Lord Ellis?”

“I am.”

Her frown increased. “You are making no sense.”

“There are secrets in this family, secrets that would change everything,” he said, knowing his voice had faded to a whisper. He wanted to tell her. Wanted her to know the truth about him. More than that, he wanted her to not care.

“I care not if your family has secrets. My entire life has been a secret from me. All that matters is who we are right now.” She took a step toward him. “Who we are together.” Her voice softened, and the tenderness and vulnerability in her face was nearly his undoing.

“We cannot fully consummate our marriage.” He wiped a hand down his face. “I cannot risk producing a child.”

Her hand fell to her stomach, and a soft grin spread to her lips. “Whyever not? A child—that would be wonderful.”