A Night With the Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

locked it. Then again, and again, and again. Countless times, until the image of his sister faded and the feeling that he’d satisfied his purpose settled over him.
    “Are you certain the door is securely locked? Fiftieth time is a charm, you know.”
    Her tone was light, flippant, not at all the reaction he’d expected. He usually concealed his oddity well, but the few people who had witnessed it were not quite so…unaffected. Indeed, they were usually quite alarmed by his behavior and regarded him cautiously thereafter.
    Gabriella was quite different in that regard. If his behavior bothered her, she made no outward show of it. She was not easily shocked, it would seem, and that facet of her intrigued him.
    “Are you always this bold, Miss Weatherfield?”
    “Yes,” she said with a self-satisfied grin. “Always.”
    With a low growl, he whipped around and pinned her to the bookcase beside the door in one fluid movement. She gasped and her green eyes went wide. Oh, how he enjoyed setting her off balance. Ripe, luscious curves pressed against the hard planes of his body, offering a welcome distraction from the torment. And the astonished look in her eyes was almost worth the invasion into his solitude. Almost.
    Then, she drew her hand back and slapped him across the face.
    His head whipped to the side and he smiled. Well, he certainly hadn’t seen that coming. And unfortunately, the shock of it did little to douse the burning need that pulsed through his veins.
    With the sting of her hand still throbbing on his cheek, he caught her wrist and pulled it up over her head, then the other. She was now his captive, an image he found acutely tantalizing.
    “Well aren’t you a petulant little creature,” he said. “What was that for?”
    “Sheer amusement—mine, not yours.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “I thought I told you to stay away.”
    “You did, most certainly. Then you approached me this morning—which changes the rules a bit, does it not?” She lifted her chin a notch. “I wasn’t likely to stay away, anyway, so you can stop looking so tortured and disagreeable.”
    Yes, he thought, the damn dare she’d accepted. How could he possibly forget? He was nothing but a game to her, a victory to be won.
    Despite his annoyance, he fell just short of pushing her away. Perhaps it was curiosity, or boredom, or both, but her bold emerald glare and ripe, dewy lips fascinated him. He wanted to taste her, fuck her, tear open her soul and sample that as well.
    The woman was pure, undiluted temptation—a potent brew of wit, intelligence, naiveté, and raw, erotic beauty. Just the sight of her off balance, slightly breathless, heated his blood.
    Still holding her, his swelling cock pressed against her belly, he whispered in her ear, “I told you last night that I wouldn’t let you go so easily. I meant it.”
    The smile faded from her lips, and she swallowed. “A gentleman wouldn’t make such a threat.”
    “A lady wouldn’t press her luck, as you are clearly determined to do.”
    More than anything, he wanted the taste of her on his tongue, in his blood, her scent pumping through his veins. He released her wrists and shifted his weight off her, then flicked his chin in the direction of the chaise lounge. “Sit down.”
    “And if I refuse?”
    “You knew what you risked by coming here, Miss Weatherfield. Sit down or leave.”
    Perhaps he was wrong to push her, but he was angry that she’d seen something he’d worked so hard to keep concealed. His obsessions, the rituals he was compelled to perform, couldn’t be revealed to society. If anyone discovered the truth, his business ventures, his seat in Parliament, his sister’s marriage prospects…everything he’d worked so hard to build would be threatened.
    She didn’t hesitate, which astonished him. Not even the obligatory three-second pause, which women of breeding were wont to take. With a challenging look in her eye, she moved to the chaise lounge and sat