Free The Lady Who Saw Too Much by Thomasine Rappold

barely knew.
    Gia sat in the corner of the room, Alice at her elbow. Despite everything, he had to credit Gia’s unwavering loyalty to Alice. She didn’t flit about, the center of attention, as most brides usually did. Rather, people flitted toward her. A damn flame drawing the doomed moths.
    And draw them, she did. Men swarmed around her, as they had at the garden party, vying for the attention of Misty Lake’s newest beauty. All harboring the same admiration in their eyes. Aunt Clara and Alice had done a fine job with Gia’s bridal array. And he, the most foolish moth of them all, found it difficult to take his eyes off her.
    Gia spoke something to Alice and then walked toward the table that held the punch bowl. She took a long sip from her glass, then headed outside to the patio. Craning his neck toward the window, he noticed she stood alone in a rare moment he could not pass up.
    He crossed the room, then stepped out to the patio. Unaware of his approach, Gia stood at the stone wall, fiddling with the ring on her finger.
    “My aunt insisted I purchase a ring.”
    She stiffened in surprise but didn’t look up. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she uttered more to herself than to him.
    The sincerity in her voice fell over him like a spell. He stiffened, shaking off the rush of satisfaction spurred by her approval. “As I said, my aunt insisted.”
    That much was true. But his plan to purchase a simple gold band flew out the window the moment he’d spotted the yellow diamond ring in the jeweler’s glass case. For some inexplicable reason, he’d wanted Gia to have it. Not solely because he could afford it, but because it had reminded him of her. Vibrant and brilliant. Infinite facets, one upon the other, so blindingly beautiful. Yet hard enough to cut glass.
    How easy it was to forget the dazzling gems were merely stones at their core. Despite the analogy, despite everything, he wanted this woman. His wife. Anger prickled inside him. Her citrus scent drifted toward him on the breeze. That damn dress, stark white and buttoned up to her ears. Knowing what hid beneath the frilly layers of her skirts only enticed him more. The unforgettable curve of her hips through the sheer night rail she’d worn to his room, the warmth of her body pressed to his, left him stalled in a memory he didn’t want to escape.
    “A ring such as that one will be difficult to ignore,” he said. “I thought it a perfect reminder.”
    “Reminder?”
    “Every time you look at it, you’ll be reminded that you’re a married woman.”
    She stared, perplexed. “You expect I might forget?”
    “I expect a faithful wife.”
    She bristled at his insinuation. If possible, the crimson flush of her cheeks made her prettier. She lifted her chin. “And may I expect the same faithfulness from my husband?” She crossed her arms. “Or shall I pose that question to Charlotte Filkins?”
    She was too damn bold for her own good. He frowned, more because she’d caught him off guard. “Do not insult Charlotte in my presence.”
    “Are you in love with her?”
    He blinked, surprised, once again, by her boldness. And the unmistakable distress in her eyes. While the answer to her question was a resounding no, he found himself withholding any reply.
    Gia shifted her weight. As a newly married woman, he could see how this might hurt her, and oh, how he wanted to hurt her. Marrying a man who did not love her was one thing—marrying a man who was in love with another woman was quite another.
    She swallowed hard at his silence, averting her eyes. With a toss of her head, she recovered quickly. “Not that I care a whit. Feel free to carry on with whomever you like.”
    He shook his head, smiling at her blunt retort. “While your permission is appreciated, you are my wife now, Gia. And as such, I promise I shall bestow all my carnal desires upon you.”
    * * * *
    Gia gritted her teeth, detesting him now as much as he so obviously