Underneath The Mistletoe Collection. Marguerite KayeЧитать онлайн книгу.
bed.’ Richard debated for a heartbeat, before reminding her, ‘We are married.’
In a flurry of limbs and covers, she was up and out of the bed before he could stop her. From the other side of the chamber, she said, ‘In name only and I’d prefer to keep it that way.’
‘If you remember correctly, Conal left the chamber with proof that states this marriage is far more than name only.’
‘That proof is nothing but a ruse.’
‘Agreed. But who will attest to that in your defence?’
‘I know the truth and that is enough.’
Richard knew any battle waged with words was lost, she would argue until the sun rose and beyond. ‘This has become tiresome.’ He sat up and dragged her side of the covers back, then patted the mattress. ‘Get back in the bed and go to sleep. You will awaken in the morning as much a virgin as you are now.’
‘What does that mean?’
He sighed. Apparently she was in the mood to argue every little thing he said. ‘It means that if you do as I suggest, I will not touch a hair on your head...tonight.’
‘And if I don’t?’
Was she begging him for an all-out battle? He stared at her. ‘What are you seeking to do, Isabella? Do you want me to force you?’
Ah, and once again her ready-for-battle pose—she stiffened her spine and crossed her arms in front of her against her chest. Why would this woman want to enrage him?
‘You couldn’t force me.’
‘Haven’t we already established the fact that I can? And I will?’
‘You didn’t force me to wed you. You simply forged my name on a document. I meant I would rather die than have you force yourself upon me.’
Force himself upon her? What the hell was she...? He frowned as her meaning dawned on him. They were talking about two different things. He’d only meant that he’d force her to sleep in the bed, nothing else. Yet she obviously thought he was talking about rape.
Outside of battle, he’d never in his life intentionally harmed any man smaller or weaker. He certainly wasn’t about to start doing so with a woman now. He gritted his teeth at the ungodly thought, threw the covers off and rose from the bed. Without another word, he crossed the chamber.
Isabella backed away, reaching behind her for the door. ‘Don’t touch me.’
He again tossed her over his shoulder. ‘Too late.’
This time, instead of arranging the covers to separate them, he dropped her on the bed and launched himself behind her. With one arm wrapped about her waist, he pulled her back tight against his chest, hooked a leg over hers and pulled the covers up.
‘Now, close your eyes and go to sleep.’
When she struggled against his hold, he simply tightened his arm, hoping that eventually she’d wear herself out.
Once her struggles lessened, Richard closed his own eyes, certain that he’d have little trouble holding on to her if he fell asleep. After all, he’d long ago learned to remain alert even though he slept. Had he not, it was doubtful he’d be alive today.
Just as the hazy relaxing cloud of slumber rolled over him, Isabella reached for the edge of the bed. Her upper body followed her extended arms, while her soft rounded buttocks pressed against his groin, sweeping away any thought of sleep.
With a grumbled curse, Richard opened his eyes. While splaying his fingers low over her belly, he pulled the pillow from beneath her head and curled his arm in its place. He pressed his palm against her forehead, tipping her head back to ask hoarsely, ‘Is it your intention to ensure neither of us sleeps this night?’
To lend emphasis to his question, he held her in place and thrust his hips forward. ‘If so, you are succeeding.’
She froze immediately, gasping a strangled, ‘No.’
The surprise in her voice only sent more blood rushing to his groin, making rational thought difficult. Richard groaned. What was it about this woman that enticed him so? She was nothing more than a means to an end—a pawn—someone to use to his advantage.
So why then did he keep having to remind himself of that simple fact? And why did he ache to touch her, to taste her, to take her and make her his wife in all ways?
Even through the layers of clothing separating them, the heat of her body swirled around him like a warm, beckoning caress. It was all he could do not to accept such a tempting invitation.
She tugged at his wrist, trying to move his arm. ‘You need to release me.’
‘No.’ He snuggled impossibly closer. ‘I find this rather comfortable.’
Finally, with an exasperated huff, Isabella fell still. After a few moments of blessed silence, Richard thought—hoped—she’d fallen asleep and he once again closed his eyes.
And once again, just as sleep promised to overtake him, Isabella broke through the fog. ‘This will not work.’
Richard swallowed the growl rushing up his throat and asked, ‘What will not work?’
She relaxed, easing down into the mattress and against his chest. ‘If you think to seduce me with this sudden bout of gentleness, rest assured you cannot.’
Seduce her? The notion hadn’t entered his mind—until now. He didn’t know whether to laugh at her assumption, or curse at the ideas filling his head.
‘I cannot? And why is that?’
‘I am immune to your...charms.’
‘Charms?’
She tapped his forearm. ‘Yes, this holding me close and not attempting to force yourself on me.’
He choked on a laugh, then cleared his throat. ‘The only reason I am holding you close is so you can’t run a knife through my heart while I sleep.’
‘No. I think you lie. If you were truly worried that I might murder you in your sleep, you would have gone elsewhere.’
‘You don’t think it would appear odd were I to sleep elsewhere on my wedding night?’
She shrugged. ‘You gave your man bloodied sheets to flaunt before the others. As far as everyone is concerned you already...did your duty.’
Richard rolled his eyes. Did his duty?
Before he could say anything in response, she continued. ‘So, the only reason for this...closeness...is an attempt at seduction. And just so there is no doubt in your mind, let me assure you, it will not succeed.’
Richard withdrew his arm from beneath her head, unhooked his leg from hers and rolled on to his back. He was torn between two immediately clear options—kiss her until she shut up, or lock her up somewhere and conveniently lose the key.
He sat up, grabbed a pillow and the top cover from the bed and tossed them to the far side of the chamber. Leaning over her, he stroked a fingertip along her cheek. ‘Because I am too tired to think clearly or battle any further, you win this round, my lady. But to erase any doubt from your mind, let me assure you of one thing...’ He paused until she turned her head and looked up at him. ‘...I have never in my life backed down from a challenge.’
‘But I didn’t—’
He cut off her denial by covering her lips with his own. It didn’t matter what she’d said, she could lie to herself all she wanted, but her body didn’t lie. He knew the truth the instant her mouth softened beneath his.
‘My lady?’
Before