Free The Wife He Always Wanted by Cheryl Ann Smith Page A

circumstance, it is my parents.”
    “How interesting that their story is similar to ours,” she said. This certainly explained the lack of judgment displayed by Lady Seymour when they met yesterday. She should have demanded the marriage be set aside as any other noble mother would have. “Well, I’m sure they knew each other for more than an hour when they wed.”
    Gabe grinned. “My mother wanted nothing to do with my father. She thought he was a rogue out to charm and seduce her. Though that was his goal, he married her first.”
    Sarah laughed. “You Harrington men are shameless. Do you always get what you want?”
    “Always,” he said with a wink.
    That bit of knowledge made her feel better. “Thank you for telling me. Though, it is impossible to believe that your perfect mother was once impoverished.”
    “When Father met her, she was barefoot and wearing cast-off clothing.”
    Sarah smiled. The image of Gabe’s mother barefoot and in an old gown did not meld with the countess’s current circumstance and perfection. Lady Seymour carried herself as if born into society. “Then I will take no insult when she looks aghast at my wardrobe.”
    Gabriel chuckled and looked her over. “There is something different about you today. I cannot place what, exactly.”
    She kept herself from smoothing her frock and dropping her gaze to the floor when he looked at her. Noelle insisted she show confidence with Gabriel, so she kept her gaze level on his, a difficult task indeed. When he peered at her with those green eyes, she was knock-kneed.
    “Noelle took me walking in the park.” She touched her cheek. “I think the sun burned me a bit.”
    “Your cheeks
are
pink,” he agreed. “Whatever the change is, I like it.” He pressed a quick kiss on her knuckles, smiled his devastating smile at her, and left her to sigh like a silly schoolgirl in his wake.
    A brisk head shake snapped her from melting to the floor.
    “Such foolishness,” she mumbled. “Noelle is correct. Men enjoy a chase. I cannot be chased if I am trotting at his heels like a besotted ninny.”
    The image of her following him around with her tongue hanging out like a puppy did amuse.
    At the moment there was little to tweak his interest. She was a stranger to him, too. And although he showed her friendly interest, he was not slavering to get back into her bed.
    Nor had he once tried to kiss her again, the light brush of their wedding kiss aside.
    What would his kiss feel like if she actually welcomed his attention? Would she like the press of his lips on hers? Or was she eternally doomed to frigidity?
    “What a notion.” Of course she was not frigid. Just the sight of Gabriel in tight breeches sent a warm flush over her skin. And there was nothing frigid about the tingles she felt in her most private parts whenever he kissed her knuckles.
    No. She was just too innocent of the ways between men and women. Thankfully, Noelle knew what to do to change everything.
    * * *
    O uch.” The dance instructor, Mister Robicheau, released Sarah and stepped back. He glared, lifted one skinny leg, and rubbed his long-suffering foot. He did a half hop and faced Lady Seymour. “Countess, she is hopeless.”
    Lady Seymour made a valiant attempt to hide her amusement behind a hand, and Noelle turned away to closely examine a painting of a fox and hounds.
    Neither reaction gave Sarah encouragement. Her shoulders slumped. “I
am
the worst dancer in the history of dancing. It
is
hopeless.”
    “See, even Mrs. Harrington knows she cannot dance,” Mister Robicheau continued unabated. His narrow frame was stiff and unyielding in his ire. “She has the grace of an ox.”
    “Now Robicheau, you must not insult Mrs. Harrington.” Lady Seymour walked over from her place by the wall. “You know she has never danced before. You must have patience. Even a butterfly begins life as a graceless caterpillar.”
    The instructor began to list all the reasons why the lessons