Free His Sinful Secret by Emma Wildes

so. He was like an ordinary summer sky that could suddenly gather with clouds and turn volatile. The sunny blue was serene and attractive, and the impending storm dark and intimidating.
    Yes, he was . . . dangerous . Why she knew it, she wasn’t sure, but she did.
    “I wish for you to come in. Does that make it easier?” He spoke in a very soft tone.
    It was a little mortifying to realize she still hovered just inside the doorway. Julianne moved forward, cast around for a place to sit down as far away from him as possible, fastened her gaze on a chair near the marble fireplace, and headed toward it. The room was furnished with masculine simplicity, in simple blue and cream, dominated by a massive bed made out of some dark wood. Griffins and other mythical creatures were carved into the headboard and the posts were topped with small rampant lions. Otherwise there was no ornamentation anywhere, not even a portrait or painting giving a better indication of his personal tastes. Even his dressing gown was plain black silk, unadorned with any touches, not even the usual family crest embroidered on it. The stark color suited him, somehow emphasizing the classic masculine lines of his face and the width of his shoulders.
    Is he wearing anything under that robe?
    Quickly she sank into the seat in a self-conscious movement.
    “Julianne.”
    She looked up, aware her cheeks were warm. Just the forbidden idea of being in her nightdress in front of a man— this man—was unsettling, not to mention she wasn’t all that sure exactly what he was going to do to her. “Yes?”
    There was visible amusement in his green-gold eyes and in the slight twitch of his well-shaped mouth. “Let me clarify a few things. I know you are skittish over what comes next. There’s no need. I am not going to pounce on you. I am not going to seek to embarrass you either. I understand you’re uncertain about tonight. However, please keep in mind that men and women have been sexually intimate with each other for as long as there have been men and women. Neither you nor I would be here if our parents didn’t enjoy just such a relationship, so it really is nothing to worry over.”
    Easier said than done. She said with more tartness than she intended, “I don’t know how to swim either, but telling me that if you toss me in a cold river I’ll be able to splash about and save myself doesn’t make me believe it. People do drown.”
    He laughed. It was spontaneous and made him look younger and more approachable. “Sharing a bed is hardly the same as drowning.”
    No, it wasn’t, but both were frightening if a person was ignorant of the process. She muttered, “I’ll be frank and tell you I’m not sure which one I’d prefer right now.”
    “Would you be so nervous if it were Harry standing here instead?”
    For a moment she was nonplussed at the direct question. Then she simply told the truth. “No.”
    “Ah.”
    It was hard to tell what that meant exactly. His face was an impassive, good-looking mask of sculpted lines and defined hollows, his vivid eyes compelling. She waited a moment and then struggled to explain. “I knew him better.”
    “True.”
    “I was betrothed to him almost all my life.”
    “An irrefutable fact.”
    “You were gone.”
    “Vacationing in Spain. Yes, I remember.” His mouth twisted just a fraction, but enough for her to catch the sardonic edge in the reply.
    Risking his life and limb for England was hardly something to mock, and she knew she was more out of her depth than ever. Maybe it was an unforgivable thing to do on their wedding night, but she asked impulsively, “Do you miss him?”
    Now, why did she ask that? Maybe because he looked so very much like his older brother. Maybe because she was nervous and stammering. Maybe because there was something about him that was dark and unapproachable and she wanted to know something— anything —about his feelings.
    He went still, his glass arrested halfway to his