Seducing The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 1) by Michelle McMaster

Author:Michelle McMaster [McMaster, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michelle McMaster
Published: 2016-02-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Isobel curled up on her side, watching the sunlight stream through the ivory curtain and onto the floor of her room. She sighed, feeling as warm and weightless as the light itself.

Was this the way every woman felt after the first time?

Just saying his name in her head made Isobel thrill uncontrollably.

Beckett.

Her husband.

Last night he had taken her body with his own, truly making her his wife. And she had enjoyed every moment of it.

Her only regret was that she had awoken in this bed alone. How she had wanted his arms about her this morning, hugging her tightly. How she had wanted to feel his lips waking her with a kiss.

Well, it would not be the least good manners to be greedy, she admonished herself. Beckett did not have all day to lay in bed with her. Doubtless, he had to see to the business of the plantation.

There would be plenty of time for these wicked games between them.

Thoughts of Beckett danced in her head. The texture and warmth of his skin, the strength and thickness of his hands, the muscles in his forearms, the way his eyes held the light of the torches as he’d watched her dance—these were the things that made him so beautiful, so powerfully masculine.

Isobel sighed as she remembered his hard hands on her body, pressing her hips against his as they danced, and later as he had loved her here in this bed. Beckett had awakened something in her—something she had never known existed. It was mysterious and powerful and made her almost giddy.

Not like the distasteful business with Sir Harry at all.

The vile touch of Sir Harry had made her want to be sick.

She shuddered involuntarily.

Isobel rolled onto her side, clutching at the bed linen and pushing the memory away. She was safe from that blackguard, now. Safe with her husband, thousands of miles away. She would never be Sir Harry’s wife, and he would never be able to do that to her. No matter what he had threatened.

With Beckett it had been like a dream. She had not been afraid. She had welcomed her husband’s instruction in the art of physical love. And she had received him with an open heart.

Isobel pushed that thought away. It would not help matters and would only complicate things.

They had made love, not fallen in love.

They had not.

But had she?

Isobel recoiled from the answer to that question. Beckett had warned her that love was not part of the bargain. For him it would undoubtedly be true. But for her?

The thought sobered Isobel quicker than a dousing of cold water.

Oh, this was a mistake!

To fall in love with Beckett would be a terrible mistake. She had agreed to the terms of the marriage. They were to lead separate lives—he in London and she at Hampton Park. After this was done, she would spend the rest of her years alone on her estate, pining for a husband who had sworn never to love her.

And yet, it was too late.

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