Rule's Bride. Kat Martin

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СКАЧАТЬ and curves. Her cheeks were as pale as cream and heightened by a touch of rose. A full bosom swelled above her tiny waist, her neck was slender and as graceful as her hands. Her lips were fuller than he recalled, beautifully curved and a lush shade of pink.

      No longer the boyish young girl she had been at sixteen, Violet had matured into a woman. She was everything her father had predicted and more, the sort of female any red-blooded male would want in his bed.

      And she was his wife.

      A trickle of desire filtered through him, tightening his groin. He cleared his throat, ignored the thickening in his loins. It was merely that the hour was late and he hadn’t had a woman in weeks.

      “My condolences on the loss of your father. He was a very great man.”

      “Thank you.”

      “I am truly sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. If only you had sent word ahead—”

      “My decision was made somewhat quickly. Any letter would have arrived at the same time I did.” She gave him a sharp-edged smile. “Besides, I thought it would be nice to surprise you.”

      His return smile was weak. “Well, you certainly accomplished that.” He should have left for Boston months ago. He hadn’t considered it a breach of his word until that very moment. The notion did not sit well.

      Violet lifted her chin. “I shall see you in the morning, then.”

      Rule nodded. “I’ll have Hat rouse one of the chambermaids and send her in to help you undress.”

      “Hat, I presume, is your butler?”

      “It’s Hatfield, actually. I’ve always called him Hat.”

      “Of course.”

      Rule stood by as she collected her skirts and swept gracefully from the drawing room. As she disappeared through the door, a rush of air escaped his lungs.

      God’s blood, his wife had come to London! He still couldn’t believe it. He would have to tell his family, try to explain why he had kept his marriage a secret.

      Rule thought of facing his two brothers and their wives—worse yet, his aunt Agatha, the matriarch of the family—and inwardly he groaned.

      Violet pushed through the door of her bedroom to find Caroline still fully dressed and asleep on top of the bed. Her cousin jerked awake as Violet stepped into the room and quietly closed the door.

      Caroline blinked owlishly then grinned. “Tell me what happened. I won’t be able to sleep a wink until I know.”

      Violet released a weary breath. She had only slept in fits and starts on the sofa and jousting with Rule had left her edgy and drained.

      “He was quite the gentleman. But then he always was.”

      Rule had accepted her arrival more graciously than she had expected. Oh, he had been surprised to see her—wildly so. But he had recovered his composure quickly and played the willing host.

      Which perhaps she should have expected. His smooth, sophisticated manner had been one of the things her father had admired.

      “What does he look like? Is he still so very handsome?”

      Handsome was a very pale word to describe a man who looked like Rule. “He is handsome. Beyond handsome, to be truthful. He is even taller than I remember.”

      “With those lovely blue eyes and those wonderful dimples?”

      “That would be him—though I didn’t see the dimples tonight. I don’t think he found anything the least bit humorous about my unexpected arrival.”

      Caroline grinned. “Well, then, if you are still set on tossing him over, maybe you should give him to me.”

      Violet laughed. “Once I am rid of him, I don’t care what he does.”

      Caroline arched a golden eyebrow. “On second thought, I don’t want your leftovers. I think I shall find a man of my own.”

      Violet bit back a smile. “Good idea.” Their tastes in men had always been different and even though Rule was quite a beautiful specimen, he was merely a man. Violet had learned the hard way there was more to a relationship than physical beauty.

      “Did you tell him?” Caroline asked, sliding over to sit on the edge of the bed. “Did you say you wanted an annulment?” Both of them were still fully dressed. And both were exhausted.

      “I would rather have a good night’s sleep and face him in the morning.”

      “Yes, I see what you mean.”

      A soft knock sounded at the door.

      “That will be the chambermaid, here to help me undress. I didn’t know you were still awake.”

      “I’m glad someone is here. She can help us both.”

      And so a full-figured, brown-haired woman in her late twenties walked into the bedroom, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

      “Me name’s Mary. Mr. ’Atfield, sent me ta ’elp ye.”

      “Thank you, Mary.” Violet turned, presenting her back so that Mary could unfasten the buttons. In minutes, she was rid of her clothes, dressed in a long white nightgown and neatly tucked beneath the covers. Caroline waved farewell as she departed the room, and Mary followed her down the hall to help her undress and get settled for the remainder of the night.

      The door softly closed and Violet stared up at the blue silk canopy above the bed, certain she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Instead, exhausted from the tension of the day, in minutes she drifted into a deep, all-consuming slumber.

      Rule lay awake, staring into the darkness. His wife was there—Violet was in London.

      Now that he was over the shock, and the notion had begun to settle in, he felt an odd sort of relief. His decision was made. He could start living up to the promise he had made to Howard Griffin.

      And Griffin had certainly lived up to his.

      Violet was as beautiful as her father had envisioned, though not in the typical sense. She was petite, but not slim, her green eyes a little too large for her lovely heart-shaped face. Her flame-colored hair was amazing, but not in the current vogue, and there was a confidence about her that hadn’t been there when she was sixteen.

      It shone in the way she moved, the firm set of her chin, the way her eyes flashed, revealing a hint of stubbornness she couldn’t quite hide. And there was something more, a sensuality that hid beneath the surface, a deeply rooted passion, he suspected. He was drawn to it, intrigued by the thought of exploring it.

      He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had piqued his interest as Violet had, or stirred his lust in quite the same manner.

      Perhaps it was the fact that she was his wife, the woman who would bear his sons and comfort him in his December years. Perhaps it was that he had married her, but never tasted the fruits of that marriage. She’d been a child back then. She wasn’t СКАЧАТЬ