Free Seducing The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 1) by Michelle McMaster

asked.
    “Very much so. Though I was unable to use your advice about swooning while conversing with the Honorable Miss Haversham.”
    “Cordelia?’ Beckett asked. “What did she say? What did you say?”
    Isobel pondered thoughtfully, then replied, “At one moment she looked unwell and I remarked that she resembled someone who had swallowed an oversized fruit. To which she replied that if there was one available, she would take great pleasure in stuffing it down my throat. I pointed out the pineapple, but she abandoned the notion.”
    Beckett stared at her, seemingly dumbfounded. Then his face lit up, and he chuckled. “A pineapple? You don’t say.”
    Isobel smirked and surrendered to her own laughter. “Do you think the story will get ’round?”
    “I wouldn’t completely rule it out,” he replied. “We shall have to check the Times tomorrow morning.”
    “Oh dear,” she said. “I shall cause a scandal.”
    “I don’t care if you do, Isobel. And neither should you. I shall be quite happy being husband to the “Lady of Large Fruit.”
    “Of large what?” Alfred said, popping up beside Beckett. “I say, is that any way to speak to your wife?”
    Beckett took Isobel’s hand. “They are beginning another waltz, my dear. Would you do me the honor?”
    Isobel felt a thrill of excitement at his touch. “I would be most pleased.”
    Beckett led her onto the dance floor and curved an arm about her waist, his hand flat against the small of her back. She looked up into his face and saw the laughter was gone from his expression. He stared down at her with heated eyes, and all at once Isobel knew why moths flew into the flame.
    Isobel felt herself becoming terribly warm all over. The memory of his lips on hers kept returning, and suddenly, unexpectedly, she wanted him to kiss her.
    “What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice like velvet. “You’re flushed, Isobel. Is it from your thoughts, or is it from the dancing?”
    “I’m sure it is from neither,” she said weakly.
    “Are you? Well, I am not so convinced,” he replied. “Let us do an experiment. What would you say, Isobel, if I pulled you close and kissed you here in front of this whole room?”
    Isobel’s head jerked up as she met his demanding expression. “You wouldn’t.” A cascade of hot tingles spilled down her back.
    “You see, I was right,” he said. “You blushed because of your thoughts. And right now I would give anything to know what they were.”
    Feeling suddenly daring, Isobel answered, “If you must know, I was thinking about when you kissed me on our wedding day. I imagine you must be quite shocked by my forwardness. I admit, I am feeling very bold tonight. Becoming a countess must be going to my head.”
    “Then, it agrees with you. I like a woman who can speak plainly.” He pulled her closer and they suddenly stopped swirling. “And I like a woman who thinks about kissing. Especially about kissing me.”
    Isobel stared transfixed. Was he really going to kiss her in front of all these people?
    “Perhaps we should take a turn out in the gardens,” he said, finally. “It is a lovely night.”
    Isobel nodded silently. Beckett was her husband. If he wanted to push her up against a tree and kiss her senseless, it was his right to do so. And suddenly she knew that if he wanted more from her, she would not protest.
    Beckett led her out onto the balcony. He nodded to the other guests and as they walked. They made their way down the steps and headed toward one of the torch-lit paths on the grounds.
    Oh, why was her heart pounding, so?
    Beckett looked down at her and placed his hand over hers where rested in the crook of his arm. “One of the benefits of marriage is being able to enjoy a walk in the gardens like this without causing a scandal. I daresay these gardens are as big as Vauxhall. And just as private.”
    They walked farther, and Isobel became aware of a number of couples embracing in the shadows. The muffled