Contract to Wed: Prairie Romance by Holly Bush

Author:Holly Bush [Bush, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Historical, Victorian, Historical Romance
Amazon: B00RASQZ6S
Publisher: Holly Bush Books
Published: 2015-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Max stopped in front of Jolene’s hotel room door. She fiddled in her reticule for the key and slipped it in the lock. She looked up at him with uncertainty. His wife was outwardly confident, especially when it came to her looks but then who would not be? She was physically stunning and graceful, with an eye for style. But she was not sure of herself otherwise, or perhaps just unsure of her feelings.

“Thank you, Maximillian. It was a wonderful evening. I hope Timothy will be able to report that your campaign has been amply rewarded,” she said. “Alice. Perfect timing. Good night, Maximillian.”

He kissed her cheek and then opened the door to his own hotel room. He changed, pulled on the silk draw-string pants lying across his bed and poured himself a whiskey. He’d drank very little before and during dinner, and now he hoped the liquor would burn a path to his brain and help him forget what Jolene looked like at the top of the hotel lobby steps because he’d never seen a sight to compare. She was the epitome of sensuality with her hair all piled in loose curls, just begging a man to sink his fingers into it, and her dress barely covering her bosom. He stood near the full length window of his room staring out at the twinkling gas lights of Dallas when he heard the key click in the door between their rooms.

Max could smell lilac talc, and he could see her outline reflected in the window. He knew that she’d changed out of her gown and into one of her nighties. He didn’t want to turn and look at her full on because he was worried he might throw her across his bed. His wife could tempt a saint, and he was certainly not one of those. He was a flesh and blood man with a desire to ride his wife over and over, until morning at least.

“Maximillian?” she said.

“I’m here, Jolene,” he said and continued to stare out the window. “Do you need something?”

“I wanted to thank you for the roses. They are so beautiful. And the tea tray and brandy you had delivered to my room.”

“I thought you might want something before you went to bed, and I didn’t know what it would be.”

“So you ordered everything,” she whispered.

He nodded and leaned his forehead against the cool glass window pane. “Good night, Jolene. We’ll have breakfast at the hotel in the morning if that suits you.”

“Max?”

He turned slowly. Jolene was a vision of sexuality in a filmy gown that he recognized from the day Mrs. McCabe delivered it. The fabric had strategically placed roses, nearly see-through otherwise with thin straps. But somehow he knew that for all her outward appearances his wife was fragile as well. He didn’t want to frighten her.

“I don’t trust myself,” he said. “You’d best go to bed.”

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