Free Redemption of a Fallen Woman by Joanna Fulford

evident. Nor had her beauty which was rendered all the more artless by her present attire.
    For the first time full realisation began to sink in that this lovely and exotic creature was now his wife, that she belonged to him. It created a gamut of emotions, not least of which was guilt. He hadn’t looked at another woman since Belén and nor had he wished to. The society beauties in London had no power to attract him: compared to her they had seemed cold and colourless, lacking the inner fire that she had possessed in such measure. The same fire he glimpsed in Elena. In her it was contained, he might even have said suppressed. It excited his imagination and aroused his curiosity, as that brief chaste kiss had aroused him earlier—an effect that had been quite unexpected. It put paid to all thought of the nun.
    He tossed back the rest of his wine and, pushing the chair back, stood up. Then he held out his hand.
    ‘Come, my lady. It’s time to retire.’
    Somehow Elena got to her feet. Her heart was thumping so hard she felt sure he must hear it. Obediently she placed her hand in his, felt the pressure of his fingers on hers. Their touch seemed to burn now. He led her to the door and thence to the upper floor where their bedchamber was situated. He paused on the threshold to let her precede him, then closed the door behind them. The room was spacious though sparsely furnished, and dominated by the large bed opposite. Elena shivered, her gaze travelling thence to the man standing just feet away. He had always been physically impressive but now he seemed bigger than ever. Moreover, that lithe frame was powerfully muscled. Her strength would be no match at all for his; he could compel her to do whatever he liked. Her mouth dried. She had not even the right to refuse. As her husband his authority was absolute.
    In stomach-churning silence she waited. He looked so calm and self-assured, but then how could he not when circumstances were so clearly stacked in his favour? He surveyed her steadily for a moment.
    ‘It has been a long day and there’s another one ahead of us tomorrow. Let’s get some rest, shall we?’
    She stared at him dumbfounded, torn between disbelief and hope.
    ‘Besides,’ he went on, ‘I think we both need a little time to come to terms with what happened today.’
    The tone was gentle, even kind, but suggestive of more beneath. For perhaps the tenth time that day she wished she could read him better. She watched him shrug off his coat and toss it over the back of a chair. Neck cloth and shirt followed to reveal a hard-muscled torso. She drew a sharp breath, her gaze drawn to the line of dark hair that led her eye to the narrow waist and lean flanks below it. He sat down to remove his boots. Having done so, he reached for the fastenings of his breeches. Confused and uncertain, Elena turned away and reluctantly began to remove her own jacket and boots. Behind her she heard a faint creaking sound as he climbed into bed.
    Hoping her voice wouldn’t shake, she said, ‘I’ll douse the candle.’
    She suited the action to the words and the room was immediately plunged into darkness. Under its protective shade she hurriedly removed her breeches. Then, clad only in her shirt, she padded across to the bed and, groping for the edge, slid gingerly beneath the covers. She lay very still, hardly daring to breathe, every nerve stretched taut with awareness of the man beside her. The bed shifted under his weight as he turned towards her. Elena tensed, closing her eyes, feeling his warmth down the length of her body, waiting for the inevitable invasion of hands and limbs. It didn’t come. Instead she felt the light pressure of his hand against her cheek. It lingered a moment in a light and gentle caress. Then she heard his voice.
    ‘Goodnight. Sleep well, my lady.’
    The hand withdrew and the bed shifted again and he turned away from her onto his side. Heart hammering she stammered out a response. He made no