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

Beckett said. “He’s in the card room, I think. Wait for me here, will you? I see Lady Whitcomb there. I’m sure she will keep you company until I return. I’ll be back directly.”
    Isobel nodded and watched her husband round the corner and disappear down the hallway of the huge manor house. She glanced around and took a step toward Lady Whitcomb.
    Isobel was totally unprepared for the firm, familiar grip which suddenly circled her wrist, but even as she turned to face him, she knew who it was.
    Icy fear squeezed her heart as Isobel stared into the glittery dark eyes that had haunted her dreams since that terrible night at Hampton House.
    It seemed a lifetime ago, and yet all too fresh in her mind. What had been happening in her absence? Had Sir Harry Lennox installed himself as master of the estate, as he’d promised he would? And now he was here, like a wolf at the door….
    Sir Harry smiled, darkly. He pulled her close and brought his mouth to her ear.
    “I’ve missed you, my darling,” he whispered.

Chapter 8

    “Come with me out into the garden, Isobel,” Sir Harry ordered in a calm voice that gave her chills. “Don’t make a scene. We have much to discuss.”
    Isobel glanced around, but there was no one near. No one who could help her. Oh, where was Beckett?
    As if reading her thoughts, Sir Harry said, “Your dear husband is searching out that dreary friend of his. Good of him, really—giving us time to be alone.”
    “What do you want?” she demanded.
    Sir Harry dug his iron-hard fingers into her flesh and she struggled not to wince. She would give him no satisfaction. He couldn’t hurt her now and she wanted to tell him so.
    “What do I want?” Sir Harry asked. “Why, only what’s mine of course. You remember what’s mine, don’t you, Isobel?”
    Quickly he walked her down a deserted pathway dragging her deep into the trees. He spun her around and held her in front of him.
    “Foolish, foolish girl,” he said, almost sympathetically, lifting her chin with his fingertips. “Whatever am I to do with you?”
    Isobel stared into his black eyes and said, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I am the Countess of Ravenwood, now, and under my husband’s protection.”
    “Yes, I know about your farce of a marriage to that fop,” he said.
    “It is not a farce,” she countered.
    “Does he know your story, Isobel?” Sir Harry asked. “From what I can tell, he knows nothing about the tragic events at Hampton House involving your deceased guardian, Mr. Langley. It was wise of you not to tell him, Isobel. Very wise, indeed.”
    No one frightened her as much as this man did, for she knew what he was capable of.
    “I saw you out here with him,” Sir Harry continued “I saw his hands touching your naked skin, and I heard you sighing and gasping like a little trollop. Naughty girl. I advise you not to make a sound, or I will be forced to hurt you. And I would rather save your punishment for later.”
    Suddenly, the scene of her guardian’s murder flashed into her mind. She pushed it away, refusing to let the terror overtake her. She would not show fear to this man. That was what he wanted.
    “You hold no power over me,” she insisted.
    “Oh, my dear, sweet Isobel—I hold every power over you,” he replied. “I shall have both you and the Hampton estate before the season is out.”
    “And how do you propose that?” she asked. “As Lord Ravenwood’s wife, my husband now has claim to my property.”
    “If you were his wife, yes,” he agreed. “But if you were no longer his wife, what then?”
    “What do you mean?” she demanded, a vein of fear snaking its way around her heart.
    Sir Harry smiled calmly. “I wonder…would he care to tarnish his name by staying married to a murderess?”
    Isobel was dumbstruck. “What are you talking about?”
    “Do you know Lord Palmerston, the chief justice of the King’s Bench?” He asked. “He’s an old friend of mine. I explained it all