Never Marry a Stranger by Gayle Callen

Author:Gayle Callen
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2010-12-03T05:00:00+00:00

When Matthew heard the dressing room doorknob turn, he lifted his book and pretended to read once again. Still wearing his shirtsleeves and trousers, he was lying on the bed in Emily’s room, pillows supporting him.

When Emily saw him, she paused on the threshold. She was clothed in a dressing gown, her hair wrapped in a towel, her skin glistening in the candlelight. He’d just come from the dressing room, where he’d listened at the bathroom door and imagined what made each splash.

He was a fool—a panting, lust-filled fool who was allowing his overwhelming desire for Emily Grey to make him forget that he needed to discover her secrets.

She smiled at him and moved toward the hearth. He gave up trying to read and simply watched her, the way she drew a chair before the hot coals in the grate, removed the towel from her hair, and began to comb through the blond curls. His mouth went dry as she spread her hair wide, combing over and over again, her face in profile, her eyes focused far away. It was a dreamy moment, filled with her slow, fluid movements. His eyes ached from the strain of staring at her; his breathing sounded harsh in his ears. How could she not hear it? It reminded him of the way she panted in his arms when he’d given her the fulfillment she’d never experienced before. He wished he could show her everything about the intimacy between a man and a woman.

Perhaps then she’d trust him.

That’s what it came down to, he realized at last, stunned. He wanted her trust. He wanted the truth from her lips, uncoerced.

But she hadn’t trusted his family, whom she’d known for a year. And she’d only known him for a few days.

At last she braided her hair in one long plait and moved away from the hearth. He found himself able to breathe easier when she sat down at the desk, retrieving a notebook. She consulted one of her books—mathematics, he thought—then wrote something down. Was she studying for her own benefit? Or preparing to teach?

He thought about her admission that she had no training as a governess. Had she desperately needed such skills after her family died? This elaborate charade, using his family and her new position, could not simply be a way to educate herself. It just didn’t make sense.

Emily felt as if her back was on fire. Matthew was staring at her—he always stared, which pleased her. Surely he was remembering what they’d shared earlier, when she’d surrendered to his caresses, allowed him to do as he willed with her.

She couldn’t concentrate on mathematics equations. Matthew was in her bed, clothed, but here nonetheless.

An unusual scent suddenly drifted past her, and she lifted her head, inhaling. It was sweet and fragrant, but not the roses Maria often brought her from the greenhouse.

She turned—and saw him watching her openly, the book set aside. In his hand, he held a flower she didn’t recognize at first, twirling it in his fingers.

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