Page 31

“I’ll seduce you.” He had no doubt of it.

Yes, she was skittish now, but last night she’d responded with natural, unfettered sensuality—until he’d bungled it, entering her with more desperation than finesse.

It went against his honor as much as anything.

He prided himself on his bedchamber skills.

He hadn’t treated a woman so clumsily since he was a green and eager youth.

He had no idea how his loss of control had happened last night, but he was damned sure he wouldn’t let it happen again.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then shrugged a shoulder as if she didn’t believe him and said with airy insouciance, “You are welcome to try.” She started packing up the remains of the picnic.

His lips twitched. The minx, throwing his own words back at him.

T hey reached the town of Huesca just as siesta time was ending. The streets were already filling with people all heading in the same direction, and when they reached the center of the town, they saw why.

“It’s a market.” Bella turned eagerly to Luke. “Can we stop and look? I can’t tell you how long it is since I’ve been to a market.”

Luke could see she was dying to dive into that throng. “Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s go shopping.” He’d planned to buy her a cloak, and this might be an opportunity.

“Shopping?” Her eyes sparkled. “What shall we buy?”

“We’ll have to see what’s available, won’t we? But first let’s stable the horses and find a room for the night.”

They found one eventually, a private room in an inn off the central square, probably the most expensive accommodation in town, but the town was full because of the market, and nothing else was available.

After a wash, a change of clothes, and a drink, they stepped out onto the square and plunged into the crowd.

Isabella’s eyes were everywhere; even the humblest stall was of interest to her, and Luke was reminded again that she’d been shut away from the world for eight years.

She smelled the fruit, sampled everything that was offered to taste, and examined the animals from geese and pigs, to cages of bright parrots and a box of kittens.

She cooed at the latter with such delight that he had to inform her that they could not travel with a kitten.

“I know. It’s just that they’re so sweet.”

Isabella moved from stall to stall. She was friendly to a fault,examining the goods and exchanging greetings and banter with the stall keepers. And she fingered the fabrics and eyed the ready-made clothes with ill-concealed covetousness.

“Would it fit you?” Luke asked when she lingered over a simple dress in a glowing dark red.

“Really?” She turned to him in surprise, and seeing he meant it, she examined the dress more carefully, then held it up against her. “I think so,” she said breathlessly.

“Would the senorita like to try it on?” The stall keeper’s wife came forward. “We have a private place here, very safe.” She indicated a cubicle draped in fabric set up against the cart at the back of the stall.

“ Senora ,” Luke corrected her. He examined the cubicle, nodded, then stood guard outside as Isabella and the woman stepped inside.

“What do you think?” Isabella stepped out through the curtain.

The dress was cheap, simply made, and old-fashioned to one accustomed to London society, but he could see she loved it, and indeed it suited her.

The dark red was perfect for her dark coloring, and a simple decoration of pale yellow piping gave it a smart, jaunty air that suited Isabella’s personality.

“Very nice,” he said.

“It’s a bit loose here.” Isabella plucked at the bodice.

“The senora just needs a corset,” the woman murmured.

“A corset? She isn’t fat!” Luke exclaimed indignantly.

The woman tsked indulgently. “The senora is as slender as a reed, to be sure, but a corset also helps here.” She cupped her own substantial breasts.

“She doesn’t need—”

“I’d love to try one,” Isabella said at the same time. And without waiting, she and the stall keeper’s wife disappeared again behind the curtains. The woman yelled something to her daughter, who thrust a bundle of white things through the curtains.

Luke waited. Rustling sounds and murmurs came from the curtained cubicle.

“Now how do I look?” Isabella pulled back the curtain.

Luke stared. And swallowed. Instead of a loose neckline that hinted at gently shadowed curves beneath, two silky puffs of breast rose impudently above the neckline. A dress that was perfectly acceptable before now looked… mouthwatering.

His mouth was hanging open, he realized suddenly. He shut it with a snap that jarred his teeth.

“Well?” Isabella gave him a speculative look.

He ran his tongue over parched lips. “You don’t need it,” he told her. “It looks… ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” Her eyes narrowed to two gold slits. She glanced down at her neckline then let her gaze drift slowly over him, from head to toe, lingering at his groin for what felt like minutes. Luke felt her gaze like a slow, hot caress. He felt his body stir.

He raised one brow. “Playing with fire, wife?”

She met his gaze, blushed, tossed her head, and whisked herself back behind the curtain. “I’ll take two,” she said. “My husband will pay.”

Luke smiled to himself. He was not the only aroused person here, but he was the only one who recognized it. You are welcome to try , indeed. Come the night, she would discover the consequences of her reckless invitation.

Luke had never yet lost a challenge.

The stall keeper emerged from the cubicle with a knowing smile and, while Luke was waiting for Isabella to emerge, showed him another dress, the same size and style but in a patterned fabric in blue, white, and café au lait. “This would suit the senora perfectly,” she told him.

“Wrap it up as well.”

They wandered on through the market, investigating every stall thoroughly.

They bought small custard-filled pastries made by nuns.

They bought cinnamon-candied nuts, dried apricots, and fresh dates.

Isabella found some scented soap that she said didn’t smell anything like the convent soap, and Luke bought her a pair of cat’s-eye earrings that exactly matched her eyes.

“I know what you’re doing,” she said as she happily inserted the earrings. “But it won’t work.”

“What am I doing?” He untangled a tendril of hair from one earring.

“Hah! So innocent. You think to seduce me with gifts.”

He shook his head. “I don’t need gifts to seduce you.”

She gave him a speculative look, laced with challenge. “What will you use, then?”

He gave her a slow smile. “Me.”

H is utter confidence secretly thrilled Bella, even as she tried to toughen herself against it. However many dark, smoky looks he gave her, whatever words he used to try to entice her, she would not couple with him. Not tonight.

She needed more time. Time to prepare herself, arm herself, before she lay in his embrace again. Last night he’d hurt her, badly.

Not her body. She didn’t care about that small, transient hurt. All girls, all women experienced that when they first lay with a man. It was a rite of passage. If anything she was glad of it, glad to have gone to her marriage bed a virgin after all.

And the first part… the kissing, the touching…

In all her girlish imaginings, she’d never even dreamed anything so sweet. And yet so affecting.

Her insides quivered, just thinking about it. His hunger for her. His tender urgency, his slow, careful… worship. With my body I thee worship. It unraveled her, dissolved every doubt, revived every dream she’d ever had of this man, this marriage. She was filled… exalted… flooded with love.

And then…

She felt small and sick and cold, remembering.

His words, his response had cut so deep. The anger in him when he realized she’d been a virgin, the bitter realization he’d been trapped into an unwanted marriage. Deceived.

He’d managed to swallow the most hurtful words, but sensitized to him as she was, she’d felt his rage. It radiated off him, as tangible as heat, as scathing as ice.

She’d opened herself up to him, heart, body, and soul, and then, when she was at her most exposed and vulnerable—

“Would you like a cake?” Luke asked, pointing to a cake seller passing with a tray of wares.

Bella shook her head. “No, thank you.” They continued on through the market.

No sign of that rage now. He’d harnessed it, buried it, hidden it behind a layer of gentlemanly politeness. Putting the best face on it. Even his vow to seduce her was a way of making up for the previous night. Kind and thoughtful, despite everything—and that threatened to unravel her, too.

She should be grateful for it. She was. It was just…

Bella Ripton, building castles in the air again. And if he happened to knock this one down—which of course he would—fool that she was, she would probably start building another.

But it was time to grow up, time to stop dreaming impossible dreams.

A crate of puppies caught her eye. Three soft, caramel fluffy ones and a small brindle mutt with a squashed-in face, lopsided ears, and a patch over one eye. “Hello, little pirate,” she said and bent to pat him.

“Don’t even think about it,” Luke told her. “You can’t take a puppy to England with you. Besides it’s an ugly little mutt.”

“I know, but so sweet-natured.” The puppy blissfully wiggled his soft little body, wagging his tail and licking her fingers with frantic excitement.

So loving; so eager to be loved. She gave him one last pat.

“Good luck, little fellow. I hope you find someone to love you.” They moved on through the market.

Most marriages had nothing to do with love. They were practical arrangements, alliances of family, a consolidation of wealth. And for children.

Bella needed to do what her husband had done; accept an unsatisfactory situation and make the best of it. And she would. She had every intention of making this a good marriage, to make him—and herself—happy.