A Season for Love Read Online Free PDF

anyone. I'm already married."
But she wasn't! her heart cried out.
She was, for all intents and purposes. Discovering the false validity of a piece of paper didn't change anything. And yet she knew in the back of her mind, no matter how irrevocable the future, that the discovery had allowed her this wonderful day. She had used it to rationalize her actions. . . .
Legally, she was free.
But her freedom was empty; the ties that bound her had never had anything to do with legalities.
And none of it could ever be explained to Drake, who stared at her now with deep, piercing fury. . . .
"I am married," she repeated aloud, wrenched from the pain of longing by the staunch reminder to herself of what must be.
Drake emitted a single, explosive oath. If he had been burned to cinders by the roaring heat of lava, he couldn't have been more shocked or wounded. He had been duped in the worst way possible; he had given everything to someone else's restless wife. Trust, he thought cynically, as his arms dropped to his sides. What a fool. He had thought he had found the one woman he could love, cherish, and trust eternally.
He stepped away from her, still looking into her eyes, now seeing nothing but traitorous blue; magnificent, treacherous, radiant blue.
He had been used by a conniving witch he had deemed the soul of honesty.
The look alone that he gave her could have shattered a shell of lighter stuff. But even as she felt herself agonizingly ripped asunder inside, as if her heart had been torn from her body, Ronnie stood still.
Composed as marble.
If he touched her again, she would break. But he didn't touch her. She had the feeling that he controlled his temper because he feared what he might do if he let it loose. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, his broad shoulders appeared imposingly massive. But it was his dark face that set her blood racing. His glowering eyes were daggers; his mouth a white line of condemnation. His teeth were clenched together; she could see the twisted angle of his jaw as he ground them against each other.
She wanted to throw herself into his arms and explain. It was unbearable that he hate her so. But for all the rogue she had assessed him to be, she learned swiftly now that he was a man of certain morals. Affairs were fine. Extramarital affairs were unthinkable.
If she could explain, if there was any way—which there wasn't —it would be senseless to fly to him anyway. He would cast her aside as tarnished goods. Her situation was too incredulous to believe or to understand.
Her hands were behind her on the door. She braced them now, for support. "I think you should leave now, Drake."
"As you wish," he replied glacially. "Mrs. uh . . . ?"
"It doesn't matter," Ronnie said blandly, praying he would leave.
"It does matter, Ronnie," he told her gravely. But he didn't press the point. Instead he reached for her arm and pulled her from the door, dropping her arm again quickly after he had moved her out of his way. His touch had been as red-hot as a branding iron.
He stopped for only a second to gaze back at her. "Oh—thank you for a most interesting cruise."
Then he was gone. His piercing gaze, his towering disdain, were all that remained imprinted on her mind. Her knees buckled beneath her and she slid to the floor, gripping her stomach as if he had dealt her a blow with a two-by-four.
But still she didn't cry. She sat rocking, biting her lip. They were calling the passengers ashore. She pulled herself back to her feet by grasping the bedpost. After walking into the cabin's small bathroom, she splashed her face with cool water and made a few makeup repairs, her hands moving mechanically. She curled her hair into a tight bun at the back of her neck and donned sunglasses and a chic, wide-brimmed beige felt hat that matched her smart heels and small sling handbag.
Gathering her things, she left the cabin. But not without looking back at the still-rumpled bed.
She had never intended to; it had been