His Make-Believe Bride by Cynthia Wright

Author:Cynthia Wright
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2017-10-11T21:00:00+00:00

* * *

As they entered the empty manor house, Mouette set her wedding bouquet and the paper-wrapped layer of her bride cake on a small tripod table.

“I find it very odd, not to have Baptiste appear to offer us refreshment.” Justin frowned as he looked around the entrance hall and into the refurbished drawing room. “Have I told you that the house is looking very impressive? You have impeccable taste.”

Mouette warmed to his praise. “That’s very kind of you, but of course, you’ve had a hand in it.”

“Then we both have impeccable taste.” He flashed a grin.

Feeling unaccountably nervous, Mouette said, “I should go to my room and put away my bonnet, then I’ll see what there is for us to eat.”

“Your room? What room?”

She pulled at the silk ribbons of her bonnet. “When I realized that I would have to stay here now that we are pretending to be married, I claimed one of the bedchambers for my own.” His gaze seemed burn her. “It’s a pretty chamber that opens off the morning room. I mean, your study.”

“You intend to sleep downstairs?” Justin almost sounded offended.

“I thought it would be more proper, since, well - ” How could she explain that she was afraid to take the bedchamber that connected to his, where Pendudwell’s wife had once slept? Mouette couldn’t imagine lying in bed at night with Justin on the other side of a single door, and she wasn’t certain either of them could be trusted to keep that door closed.

Justin brusquely interrupted her thoughts. “Show me this room of yours.”

Mouette led the way through to the morning room, where the window casements were flung open. It was a lovely late afternoon, and a fragrant summer breeze wafted in from the gardens that they’d begun to tame. A bouquet of roses and lilies, picked and arranged by Mouette that morning, graced the ebony-inlaid table Justin prized.

At the back of the room, a narrow door led to the corridor accessing the servants’ quarters. Mouette went through it, followed by Justin.

“You can’t sleep back here,” he grumbled.

She opened the door to her new room. It was furnished with what had been the housekeeper’s bed, as well as a washstand and a bureau. Mouette had chosen a favorite blue-and-white Copeland pitcher and bowl to brighten the space. Still, she wasn’t surprised to see Justin’s face darken with disapproval.

“You can’t stay in here.”

“I have to sleep somewhere in this house, and it cannot be in your bed, m’sieur.” Her heart was pounding. “Do you recall that we have an arrangement?”

“Ah yes, the arrangement. The one wherein I am forbidden to touch you. It all ends when you receive a small fortune for your time and efforts.”

Mouette burned with outrage. How dare he? Now that she had gone through with the make-believe wedding, did he intend to make light of the terms she had set for their bargain?

“Yes, m’sieur, that is exactly the arrangement to which I was referring,” she said coolly. He must

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