The Dragon's Bride (CR 7) by Beverley Jo

Author:Beverley, Jo [Beverley, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Regency, Man-Woman Relationships, England, Historical Fiction, England - Social Life and Customs - 19th Century, Nobility - England - Dover, Smugglers - England - Dover, Smugglers, General, Romance, Dover (England), Historical, Man-Woman Relationships - England - Dover, Housekeepers, Housekeepers - England - Dover, Fiction, Nobility, Love Stories
ISBN: 9780451233400
Publisher: Penguin Group USA
Published: 2011-08-02T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

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Con turned and leaned his hands against the rough, cold rim of the basin, looking down at the inches of water glimmering there.

Saint George.

A hero.

Where had that youthful idealist gone?

Susan had hurt him deeply but she hadn’t killed the hero. The war had done that. Oh, officially it had made him a kind of hero. He hadn’t been the dashing sort to attract a lot of notice, but he knew he’d done his job well for the benefit of his men, his general, and his king. Hawk had told him that Wellington had referred to him once as a “damned fine officer,” which was praise enough for any man.

But the endless years, though full of excitement, triumph, and even pleasure among the bleaker times, had killed the saint. He didn’t fear what the future would do to him, but what he might do to others in his soulless state.

Some fortune-tellers claimed to be able to reveal the future from reflections in water. What would anyone make of his?

He’d summoned Lady Anne as his defense, and now she was a barrier. Susan wouldn’t come to his bed because of Lady Anne.

That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

What he wanted, ferociously, was Susan.

The sight of her laughing uncontrollably at the unpredictable spray had cracked something and carried him straight back to the sun-shimmered past. Then the sight of her body, lusher, more womanly in its mysteries, but still Susan, had undone him.

He couldn’t let himself be used again, and despite the soulless need throbbing in him, he wouldn’t use her. But could he bear to leave here without experiencing Susan as she was now?

He could always tell her that Lady Anne was a possibility rather than a commitment. Tempt her with the chance of winning Crag Wyvern for herself. She’d claimed she didn’t want it anymore, but it must be a lie. Why else was she here?

He suddenly had a wicked vision of Susan—womanly, experienced Susan—setting her mind to seducing him….

But Lady Anne was more than a possibility. He’d sent that letter.

And she was the perfect, ideal wife for him.

If Susan married him, it would be for Crag Wyvern. Since he had no intention of spending more than a duty week or so a year here she would be miserable.

No, Susan would never wallow in misery. She’d fight for what she wanted. He’d seen men married to women determined to change them and their circumstances to suit. Seen them nagged into joining the army, leaving the army, changing regiments, spending beyond their means, saving beyond sanity.

No peace in those homes. He’d told Susan the truth about his ambitions. What he longed for above all was peace. Peace and gentle pleasures in Somerford Court, where he thought he might eventually rediscover his soul, and perhaps even his youthful ideals.

He leaned down, scooped some of the water, and splashed it over his face. It was warm from the sun by now, however, and did no good.

He pushed away from the fountain and walked back into the house.

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