Free The Captain's Christmas Bride by Annie Burrows Page A

to be a good wife to you.’ He frowned. ‘
Her
idea of a good wife. It will probably not be your idea of what a good wife should be, but then, women, you know...’ He’d finished with another of his grimaces of distaste.
    Captain Dunbar had made no response. If Julia really had been in love with him, it would have been the act of a scoundrel to complain about the way she’d entrapped him. Especially since her poor old father was trying to encourage him to hope the union might bring him the same kind of happiness he’d experienced with her mother.
    Nor could he very well explain that Lady Julia had been as appalled as he when their masks had come off. He hadn’t needed to question her assertion that she hadn’t been trying to trap
him
. He’d seen his own shock mirrored on her face. She didn’t love him, but another. The last thing on her mind was making him a good wife. No, for her, it was all about saving face.
    So why the hell had she asked him to meet her in the orangery? His heart started skipping like a frigate in a stiff breeze as it hove into sight. But he kept his pace even and steady. He wasn’t going to betray, by any outward sign, just how much it affected him to approach the scene of last night’s tryst, in broad daylight.
    Which was a foolish resolution to make. The moment his mind turned to the astonishing events of the night before, his body began to behave in a most unruly manner, springing enthusiastically to attention. Giving an all-too-visibly outward sign that he was far from reluctant to be meeting her in such a secluded spot.
    So it was with a frustrated growl that he tried the handle of the door, and with a scowl on his face that he knocked on it.
    She emerged from behind a screen of foliage, and gestured to one of the windows. Then she went to it and threw up the sash.
    ‘Gatley—that’s our head gardener—keeps the door locked when we have guests,’ she explained, beckoning him over. ‘You will have to climb in through this window, as we did last night. The lock is broken, you see. But hardly anyone knows. So we won’t be disturbed.’
    So that was why she’d suggested they meet here. It was just as he’d thought. She was going to try to fuddle his mind with memories of last night, so that he wouldn’t see whatever trap she’d laid for him today until it was too late. He’d laid enough traps, himself, when he’d needed to sneak up close to an enemy in order to inflict maximum damage, to recognise one.
    Well, if she thought he was going to be tricked by a slip of a girl—again—she’d got another think coming.
    The scent of tropical foliage assailed his nostrils the moment he’d got one leg over the sill. And with it, a barrage of memories. The taste of her lips, the softness of her skin, the cry of pleasure she uttered as she’d welcomed his touch. And then the warm, wet welcome she’d given him. The encouraging way she’d risen to his rhythm as he’d thrust into her.
    And just like that, he was ready to take her again. Even though she no longer looked like the siren he’d followed out here last night. Today she was wearing one of those insipid gowns that seemed to be the uniform with which all the girls at this house party had been issued. Pale, and formless, only hinting at what it concealed.
    But he knew what it concealed. Had seen, or felt, every delectable square inch of it. The palms of his hands tingled with remembered pleasure. He curled them into fists, refusing to allow them free rein.
    She saw the gesture and flung up her chin, as though assuming his action was one of aggression and was squaring up for a fight.
    ‘You wanted to talk to me?’ She met his gaze boldly. For a moment he admired her courage. But then her eyes flickered towards the cushioned bench which ran along the back wall. And she quivered. And lowered them.
    ‘Yes,’ he grated. Seeing her standing there, looking torn between defiance and wariness, so covered up, within inches of the place