The Brigadier's Runaway Bride (Dukes of War Book 5) Read Online Free PDF Page B

that much more arresting. As to the rest of him…
    His shoulders were as wide as she remembered. His body was more lean, but just as strong and powerful. Perhaps more so. His cravat was perfectly starched and perfectly white, contrasting beautifully with the dark blue of his coat and the supple leather of the buckskin breeches covering his muscled thighs.  
    Gone were the ill-fitting shoes with the soles barely attached. His feet and calves were now encased in shiny black Hessians. There was no longer any trace of whatever he’d been through en route to the wedding. He even smelled like London—new leather, expensive soap, imported perfume.
    He held out a bouquet of flowers. Not roses or lilies, as a debutante being courted might expect, but a simple clutch of the gorgeous red poppies she’d admired lining the streets during their stolen moments in Bruges.
    She brought them to her nose and breathed in deeply, allowing the memories of the past to envelop her. She had been so much younger eight short months ago. So feckless and foolhardy. So madly in love. Just as she was now.
    “I wish to apologize.” Edmund’s low, deep voice washed over her with the same aching familiarity as his big strong hands, his soft wide lips. “I am not apologizing for stopping the ceremony. But I do regret causing you embarrassment and discomfort. That was never my intention.”
    She lowered the flowers and stepped back from the open doorway, her head spinning at the sight of him. Just as it had done when he’d interrupted the wedding. “Come in.”
    As he stepped inside, his presence seemed to fill the entire townhouse.  
    Her blood raced. She could not think. She could barely breathe. Not with him so close after all this time. Her heart pounded. She needed to sit down before the dizziness overtook her.
    “You are mine,” he said urgently. “Just as I am yours. We promised ourselves to each other, and I mean to keep that promise.”
    Trembling, she led him to the sofa and eased onto one of the worn cushions. Her fingers touched her protruding belly. “I haven’t forgotten a single moment.”
    His wry smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course you haven’t.”
    She couldn’t look away from the piercing blue of his gaze. Eight months ago, they were lovers. Naked, needy, devouring each other with hungry kisses as his hard member thrust within her.
    Today they were strangers.
    “What happened?” she asked. She sensed, rather than saw, the violent wave of anger roll through him.
    He collected himself just as quickly and spoke with deliberate calm. “The banns must be read on three consecutive Sundays. The first reading will be a week from—”  
    “There’s not enough time. We have only a fortnight. The babe will be born a bastard.”
    “The infant will be our child .” His jaw clenched. “I will not let him be born illegitimate. I have applied for a special license.”
    Sarah glanced away. She understood the reality of their situation. Edmund was beautiful to look at, but he was neither rich nor titled nor influential. A mere Mister would not be granted a special license. They would be wed by banns. Their child would be a bastard. There was nothing to be done.
    “Shall we live here?” She picked at her morning dress. “With my parents?”
    Of course they would not. They could not. The lease was precarious at best. Nor was there anywhere else to go. The Fairfax cottage in Kent was even smaller. There was no room for baby, much less a baby and a husband. She was simply pointing out what they would not be able to offer the child: a home.
    Edmund shook his head. “As you may have surmised, I came here as quickly as I could. I paused only to make myself presentable, and did not spare a moment even to speak with my brother. But his townhouse—”
    “—is not large enough to hold us.”
    He frowned. “Have you seen his property?”
    “I don’t have to. Bartholomew was a bachelor. You cannot convince me his townhouse