Brenda Joyce - The Stolen Bride

“Sean, stop!”

“He doesn’t want Elle!”

“Why are you doing this?” she begged.

“He wants that woman…the coquette!”

She shook her head in denial. “I have changed. I am a woman now and you had no right watching me kiss Peter! And you’re right—he doesn’t know me. But how could you disappear for four years? How? And then you come back and spy on me? And now you think to leave again—without me!”

“Yes!”

She struck at him with her open hand.

He caught her wrist before she could hit him.

She hadn’t meant to strike at him, for he was hurt and she loved him. But he had been badgering her so cruelly about Peter—and Peter was irrelevant to them now. She wanted to tell him all of that, but her own voice failed.

For she looked into his eyes and they were blazing. And she realized the light she saw there was not just anger but jealousy. He hadn’t let her wrist go; in fact, in seizing her wrist he had pulled her forward and her thighs were pressed against his legs. Her heart was already speeding uncontrollably but now it skipped, wildly, as she realized how hard his muscular thighs were. Hard…and male. Instinctively she shifted her weight and her breasts brushed his chest. Her nipples stiffened, hurting her, and she began to swell. She thought she might explode if he pulled her forward another fraction of an inch.

He became utterly still, except for his harsh breathing. And in that moment she realized that she would give anything to be in Sean’s arms and his bed, making love to him wildly, passionately, with no inhibition, touching his hard, scarred body everywhere, with her hands and her mouth, and letting him touch and kiss her that way in return. And he knew, because his gaze veered sharply to her mouth.

“You’re right,” she breathed. “Peter doesn’t want Elle. But you do.”

His grip tightened and he pulled her even closer.

Her nipples scraped her chemise and shirt and through the linen, his chest. His eyes widened and then he let her go.

“No. Elle was a child. Elle is gone.”

Eleanor stared at him, trying to recover her composure, while he paced, tense and shaken. “Sean. I am here. I have grown up, that’s all.”

He made a harsh sound, an attempt at mirthless laughter.

She walked slowly toward him. His expression twisted and he stared for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to speak. Then she realized he was summoning up his words. “You…belong…to Sinclair.”

“No! I belong to you! ”

He jerked in shock, turned and began hurrying away.

She ran after him, drawing abreast of him. “You need to hide. I can help.”

“I’ll hide in the woods…for tonight.”

“And then you will leave? At dawn?” she demanded. He hesitated. “Yes.”

Her resolve strengthened. She would be packed and ready to leave at dawn, as well. In fact, she had the beginnings of a bloody brilliant idea. “No, not in the woods, it’s too dangerous.”

He glanced at her, his face filled with wariness.

“You can hide in my rooms.”

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.