A Masked Deception Read Online Free PDF

bad. He had been horribly afraid that he might have to cope with maidenly tears or hysterics. He had to admit that his wife had class. She must have been terrified near out of her wits, and he knew he must have hurt her. But she had neither flinched nor murmured. Her body beneath his had felt strange, although, out of respect for her feelings, he had not explored it. He was used to choosing for himself women with more hills and curves. But her slight little figure had not felt totally unpleasant.
    Having to visit her bed regularly until she was with child might not be quite as distasteful as he had anticipated.
    Margaret lay in shock. It had been horrible, horrible! She had known that he did not love her, that he had married her only because he needed a wife and a mother for his children. But she was still aghast at the discovery of just how indifferent to her he was.
    He had been totally uninterested in her body or her feelings. There had been no attempt to prepare her, to get her ready either physically or emotionally for his invasion. And in all her imaginings, she had never dreamed of such a deep and ruthless occupation of her body.
    He had not made the slightest attempt to find out what she had to offer him. He had used her—yes, quite dispassionately used her, for only one purpose: to sow his seed in her womb.
    Oh, she hated him, hated him!
    Margaret slammed her face into one pillow and pulled another over her head to stifle the deep and painful sobs that racked her body for many minutes before she finally fell into an exhausted and unhappy sleep.

CHAPTER 3

    T he Earl of Brampton lay staring at the hangings above the bed. His body was totally relaxed and sated after three consecutive sessions of lovemaking. Lisa’s head lay in the crook of his arm, her blond hair spread in disarray over his arm and chest. One full white breast lay against his side. One of her knees had been pushed beneath his. She was asleep, breathing deeply and evenly.
    He was still not satisfied, though he knew he would not have the energy to take her again that afternoon. It was three weeks since his return to London, five weeks since his wedding. He could not explain to himself why he had not visited her before now. He had wanted to, but had kept putting it off. He had persuaded himself that he was too busy with the come-out ball he and his wife had given in honor of Charlotte the night before. In truth, though, he admitted now, his own part in those preparations had been negligible. His wife had taken charge of the invitations, the food and flower arrangements, the cleaning and decoration of the ballroom, and all the other trivia, with a quiet and surprisingly efficient energy. In the last three weeks he had really done little more than visit all his old haunts with Devin Northcott.
    He had finally persuaded himself that he was free and eager this afternoon. Lisa had welcomed him with flattering enthusiasm.
    “Ah, Richard, you naughty, naughty man,” she had said, pouting her full lips and throwing her arms around his neck. “I was sure that you had forgotten all about your Lisa. Maybe your wife is prettier and more charming than I. Maybe she satisfies you more than your Lisa.” She had fluttered her eyelashes at him and run a finger down each side of his carefully folded neckcloth.
    She had so obviously been fishing for compliments, Brampton had found himself unexpectedly annoyed.
    “Lisa, we will get one thing straight,” he had said sternly, grasping her wrists firmly and removing her hands from his chest. “We will leave my wife out of all conversations. Is that understood?”
    For once, she had looked unsure of herself. “Of course, Richard,” she had said.
    But after he had sunk into a chair in her small drawing room, she had come to sit on the arm and had chatted easily while smoothing his hair back from his brow and rubbing her finger tantalizingly across the nape of his neck. At last, she had moved to his lap and carefully