Simon stepped inside and halted. There in the center of small chamber was Isabelle. His wife.
She looked so beautiful in the light of the candles that for a moment he wished his intention was something completely different from what it was. Her ebony hair had been left in a rippling curtain that fell to her hips. When she shifted slightly beneath his regard the light revealed the hint of deep fire that gave it an unexpected warmth. His gaze moved down over the white shift that was formed from a fabric so fine that he was given the most tantalizing glimpses of the creamy flesh that lay beneath.
The sight of her brought every part of him to life. Deliberately he looked away. He did not know how it could be but there was only the barest hint of huskiness to betray his feelings when he said, “I was told that you were expecting me.”
She answered softly, her voice telling him nothing of her feelings. “My father bade me to make myself ready.”
Though she did not say so he had the sudden realization that she had been informed of her father’s wishes with as little care as he. He took a step closer to her, seeing a way out for both of them. “Isabelle, you need not feel that you must go through with this now. After all, we do not even know one another.”
She turned away, her slender shoulders seeming to tense. “I am prepared to do as my father has bid me.”
Cool, remote Isabelle. Other than the stiffness in her shoulders there was no sign of reaction in her. It was as if they were speaking of the weather.
“I see.” Simon repressed the urge to run a weary hand over his face. What a day it had been. He must find some way to stay out of his marriage bed while still offering his unwanted bride a way to retain her dignity. In spite of her being his enemy’s daughter, it greatly mattered to him that he do so. She had done him no ill.
He was not blind to the fatigue in his voice as he said, “Do you have something to drink? I find I have a great thirst.”
Without looking at him, she moved to the low table that held the candles and lifted a pitcher and cup. With what seemed more than usual care, she poured the wine and moved toward him.
Simon was hard-pressed to keep from noting the way the light silhouetted her slim and beguiling form as she passed in front of it. He kept his gaze on the cup as she moved closer and held it out. He found himself wiping away the sweat that beaded on his upper lip as the scent of jasmine and the warm scent of woman wafted over him as he reached for the cup with the other hand. His gaze fell to the shadow between the curves of her breasts, which was just visible at the neckline of her gown.
He forced himself to look up, and came into direct contact with those violet eyes. They watched him with an expression that was impossible to read as her tongue flicked out to dampen her lips. The sight of the moisture on that sweet mouth made him want to press his own to it, made his body tighten.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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.