“I will think about it,” he said finally.

Byrony left the study without another word. She closed the door behind her and sagged against it. She was trembling with relief. What had she expected him to do? Scream at her, try to justify his relations with his half-sister? Ira, the consummate gentleman. God, it was over. She left the house and rode her mare to the ocean. It wasn’t raining, but there was a high wind, and she felt grains of sand whipped against her face, stinging her eyes.

It didn’t surprise her at all to see him there, astride his big Arabian stallion, still and alone.

“Hello, Brent,” she said, wishing the sight of him didn’t bring her such pain. His thick hair was tousled by the stiff ocean breeze, and his eyes roamed over her.

He said nothing for several moments, merely studied her face. “You are all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit of a cough left, but nothing more.” She climbed off Thorny’s back and walked to the edge of the water. Her booted foot crunched on a shell, and she leaned down to pick it up. She examined the pink striations with great concentration, fully aware that he was standing behind her.

She turned slowly. “I hoped you would be here. I wanted to thank you for taking care of me.”

“You gave me no choice. I couldn’t very well leave you in the mud.”

“No,” she said, smiling, “I don’t suppose you could.”

“You still aren’t going to tell me what happened, are you?”

“No. I can’t.”

Brent turned away from her, striking his riding crop against his thigh. He’d ridden out here for the past two days, like a damned fool. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. “Did you manage a believable lie for your dear husband?”

“I had several prepared, but no one saw me come in. No one even knew I’d been gone.”

“Don’t forget them. I’ll wager you’ll have need of them in the future.”

She said, surprised, “Why should I?”

He wanted to shake her. “When you take another lover, Mrs. Butler.”

She drew back her hand and slapped him hard.

Her head snapped when he slapped her back. She gasped, more in surprise at his action than in pain, though her cheek stung.

“Damn you,” he said, and jerked her into his arms. He kissed her fiercely, not a lover’s kiss, but a furious man?

??s punishment. She felt his hands in her hair, felt his lips gentle as they touched her jaw, her cheeks, her nose. He was devouring her. He was marking her.

Byrony stopped struggling. She felt his teeth nibbling on her lower lip, felt his tongue try to probe between her lips. “Open your mouth,” he said.

She did. He didn’t thrust his tongue into her mouth, or savage her, but slowly, and very gently, he entered her mouth, then withdrew, giving her time to get accustomed to him. Brent felt the exact moment she responded to him, and something deep within him stirred. She gave a small cry of surprise, then willingly pressed herself against him, rising on her toes to fit herself better against him.

I’ve gone mad, he thought. Utterly mad. He stopped kissing her, looking down at her parted lips, moist from him. She was trembling. She wanted him. At last. She opened her eyes, and he saw they were filled with disappointment that he’d stopped. Dreamy eyes.

“I want you, Byrony,” he said, pressing his mouth against her temple. “Not here. Tonight. Come to me tonight.”

The marvelous new sensations that had been crashing through her body abruptly stopped. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

“Say yes to me. I’ll give you pleasure, more pleasure than that old man you’re married to ever gave you. More than your other lovers.”

Tears stung her eyes. So many lies, so many deceptions. Very softly she said, “I’ve never had a lover.”

She saw the flash of disbelief in his dark eyes. So blue they were like midnight without a moon to lighten them. Eyes that mirrored his thoughts, at least in this moment.

“I’ve never had a lover,” she repeated.

His hands tightened on her shoulders. “I don’t want your lies. I don’t care if you’ve had a dozen other men. They don’t matter. All that matters is that I have you.” Suddenly he laughed deeply. She watched the muscles contract in his throat. “Shit, I wouldn’t care if you had the damned pox.”

Tags: Catherine Coulter Star Quartet Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net