The Fallen Series by Eve Pendle

Author:Eve Pendle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eve Pendle

The kiss on her hand ought to be nothing. Compared to their kiss yesterday it was a little thing. But it wasn’t. His lips on her skin were more sensuous than a man deserved to be. His kiss burned with promise. The intensity in his eyes as he kissed her hand could have melted diamond. He might be a country schoolteacher, but he had so much latent seductive power it was a blessing he didn’t realize it. He made her breath short and her mind blank.

There was a single weapon against the bone-deep desire to marry him. The truth.

“This won’t end in marriage, you know.” In the end, this wouldn’t work because he’d find out about who she was, and he’d reject her. Not right now, when he was full of animal urges, but eventually.

“Why ever not?” He was smiling with barely concealed triumph. He was still holding her hand, both of them standing in the middle of her sitting room.

“Because marriage means banns being called. A public declaration. Two weeks, or three, during which if you change your mind I would be disgraced.” She couldn’t let that happen. For ten years she’d protected herself and her reputation and kept her distance from handsome men.

“I won’t change my mind.” He squeezed her hand. “Banns are as much a commitment as the ceremony. I’m the local schoolteacher. I wouldn’t call off the wedding. I’d be a pariah for jilting you.

“That’s not true.” She twisted her mouth in wry amusement. “A woman wronged is the guilty party in the eyes of the world. She’s tainted. A man who deserts a woman is just a scoundrel, forgiven instantly.”

His expression was losing some of its earlier confidence. “I’ll get a special license.”

“A waste of ten pounds because it wouldn’t work.” Irritation ground at her skin. She tugged her hand from his.

Hurt flashed across his face before he masked it.

“For the Archbishop of Canterbury to grant a special license, you need to be known to him. A widow and a schoolteacher in a Sussex village are not important.” Didn’t he understand? This wasn’t a technical problem. This was the fate of women like her. A man would always realize there was a woman purer than a busty blond with a sordid past.

“We can pay to expedite an ordinary license.” His grin had gone, replaced by seriousness. He held out his hand to her, palm up, imploring. “Father Didcot will grant us one. We both live in the parish. He’ll—”

“Without seeing a death certificate?” she interrupted him.

His eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t have one,” she clarified. “A death certificate.”

“I...” He seemed momentarily flummoxed. “You didn’t live here with Captain Taylor?”

“No. I moved here after I was widowed.” The lie was so familiar it was like an old corset, restrictive and yet part of her. She wasn’t quite ready to discard it. “I needed a new start.” That, at least, was true.

“So it’s impossible,” he said faintly. He withdrew his hand from where he’d been waiting for her to take it.

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