Free His Obsession by Ann B. Keller Page A

he
would come to her chambers to consummate their union and, as his
wife, Kate could hardly refuse him.
    Kate shuddered. The thought of allowing
Marbury to kiss and touch her all over made her shiver with
revulsion. Kate would rather bed a pickpocket on Hamlin Row!
    No. Kate could never marry the viscount.
Tomorrow, she would have to tell her father and then give the sad
tidings to the viscount himself. Her mind made up at last, Kate
finally fell into a troubled sleep.
    Kate’s dreams were filled with images of
another man, however, a tall, dark stranger who barely had to look
at her to set her senses aflame. His every touch made her burn with
unquenchable desire. All thoughts of resistance fled as the tall
stranger enfolded her in his arms, coaxing her, entreating her to
join him in his head long rush to the ultimate ecstasy.
    When he touched her, his warm hands were
strong, yet surprisingly gentle. With infinite care, the stranger
caressed the slender column of her throat, tilting her head up for
his kiss. He was close, so close. Kate could feel the heat of him
and she heard the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. He
urged her ever onward and Kate followed him, climbing higher and
higher as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her young
body … and then, like the morning mist, he was gone.
    Suddenly, Kate woke up. It was still very
dark. How long Kate had been asleep, she didn’t know and she
glanced around the room in confusion. It had all been a dream, Kate
realized, an incredible dream.
    Her dream lover had seemed so real, too.
Could he have some basis in fact? No amount of convincing could
name Viscount Marbury as the man in her dreams. Only one man seemed
capable of filling his shadowy form - the handsome Earl of
Devonshire. With a weary sigh, Kate pushed back the covers and
crossed the room to sit in a chair by the window.
    Even in the silence, her mind would not be
stilled. What if it had instead been the earl asking her father for
her hand? Would Kate be filled with disgust and trepidation or
would she be breathless with excitement?
    If Warwick asked Dorothea to be his wife,
Kate would be devastated. Miserably, Kate would retire to a small
cottage in the country where she need never see the earl nor any
other man ever again. No man seemed capable of measuring up to the
Earl of Devonshire.
    Kate remained in her chair for the rest of
the night, lingering somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. By
the time the sun mercifully rose into the sky, she was
exhausted.
    Kate kept to her room the following day, too,
not even descending to the dining room for her meals. Kate wasn’t
certain how she felt about herself at the moment and witnessing her
sisters with their gentlemen callers would only upset her further.
Kate sensed that somehow, she’d undergone a great change, one which
propelled her out of girlhood and into a much larger world.
    Feigning a headache, Kate read most of the
day, amazed that some of her favorite books had suddenly taken on
new meaning overnight. In poetry, the words now bespoke volumes.
The writer pining over his lost love, the desperate suitor eager
for the touch of his true love’s hand or the melodic sound of her
voice, suddenly made more sense.
    Edgar was puzzled and concerned by his
youngest daughter’s absence. Downstairs, the viscount was making a
spectacle of himself, too, alternately pacing through the garden
like a furious bear cub or collapsing on one of the benches in
utter despair.
    Kate certainly wasn’t showing any sign of
being pleased with the nobleman’s offer. Perhaps, Edgar thought,
he’d been wrong to encourage the young man’s suit. Finally, Edgar
rose from his chair and went upstairs. Kate opened the door at her
father’s second knock.
    “Father,” Kate acknowledged.
    “How are you, Kate?” Edgar asked with
concern.
    “Well enough,” she sighed.
    “That’s good news,” Edgar replied with a
smile. “Then we can expect you at dinner?”
    Quickly,