The Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

see right through her. The tone of his voice. Certainly it meant something. But honesty forced her to tell him what he obviously couldn’t see for himself. “I’m very tall.”
    He grinned. “Shorter than me by a bit,” John said as he moved closer, proving that he stood over half a head taller than she.
    “I’m awkward.” This was confessed with an air of dejection. There was no way in the world he could prove this untrue. But to Eleanor’s dismay he didn’t even try.
    “At times, you are, yes.” Color flooded her face and she tried to turn away. His hands bracketed the shoulders of her gown, stopping her. “But there are other times, like when you moved along the path toward me, that you are incredibly graceful.”
    “You needn’t lie.” Eleanor felt on the verge of tears and blinked her eyes.
    “I know that. If I wished to be untruthful with you I’d have sworn you were never clumsy at all.”
    “That would have been difficult after the spilled wine last night.”
    A smile lit his face and Eleanor couldn’t help responding in kind. “Did any of it hit Sir Alfred’s pants?”
    “No, why?” Eleanor could feel the heat of his hands through her gown and it was making her lethargic.
    “It’s just too bad you didn’t soak him.”
    “But—”
    One of his hands left her shoulder, traveling up her neck to cup the delicate turn of her cheek. “I didn’t like his sitting beside you. Talking with you.” John gave a small shrug and one side of his mouth lifted. “I wanted to be in his place.”
    “Even with the threat of wine spilling over you.” Her voice was a mere whisper because to speak any louder would have seemed foolish. He had lowered his head till it was only inches from hers.
    “Even then,” he answered.
    He was going to kiss her and the anticipation made her knees weak. She’d been kissed before... once. Sir Alfred had brushed his lips across her cheek. And she had felt nothing. Now, with only the notion of what was to come, she could scarcely stand it.
    His breath mingled with hers, neither of them too steady and he looked into her eyes as if he could read her thoughts. And then he lowered his head.
    The first touch was soft... gentle. Yet she felt the impact to the tips of her toes.
    He used his hand to angle her face, to press his mouth more firmly against hers. A moan escaped Eleanor. She reached for his coat, wrapping her arms around his waist at the same time she felt the tip of his tongue wet her lips.
    It seemed only natural to open her mouth to him. And then he was filling her, delving deep into the recesses of her mouth, and spearing ten fingers through her flaxen hair.
    She’d hoped his kiss would be half as exciting as the descriptions in her novel. But Charles’s kisses paled in comparison, so much so that Eleanor wondered if the author had ever experienced anything like this.
    She clung and he clung. And when they finally parted it was to gasp ragged breaths and stare into each other’s shocked faces.
    “I didn’t mean to...” John stopped and wondered what in the hell he hadn’t meant to do. Or more importantly why he couldn’t stop thinking about doing it again.
    “Oh, I don’t know what came over me,” Eleanor agreed. But whatever it was was still there. She still had her arms encircling his lean hips and wasn’t the least inclined to let him go.
    But obviously reason took hold of him for he untangled his hands from her hair and stepped out of her embrace. “Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
    “What...? Oh, you are correct, of course.” What did he mean? The kiss? The note? Whichever, he seemed annoyed, pacing between the rocks and the path that lead to the orchard.
    What in the hell was he doing. Eleanor Fiske wasn’t some loose woman he wanted to slack his lust upon—though that idea had its merits. She was the woman he hoped to marry. The untarnished, society woman he hoped to marry. And he was supposed to be proving to her that he