Free The Marriage Contract by Cathy Maxwell Page A

so wide with apprehension, they tugged at his heart. The impact of her presence was more erotic than if she’d been naked.
    “I didn’t mean to alarm you,” she said, her voice slightly breathless.
    “What are you doing here?” he demanded, tucking the end of the fur in around his waist and hoping she didn’t notice his obvious arousal.
    But then she was an innocent, innocent, innocent, he reminded himself. Naïve, even.
    Seductive.
    And it was getting damned painful to be around her.
    “It’s our wedding night,” she said in her throaty, sweet voice.
    The sudden surge of hot blood her words conjured within Aidan almost sent him howling. He struggled with the urge to take her down on the bed and not let her up from under him until Sunday next.
    “You don’t have any idea what you are doing,” he ground out arrogantly. It was a stupid thing to say. His body would love to demonstrate, but he had willpower, damn it all!
    She came up on her knees, the very image of a supplicant. “I’ve been told to do whatever you wish of me.”
    Such a harem statement almost shattered his self-control.
    What was it about Anne that attracted him so?
    He’d known women lovelier and certainly more experienced. If he bedded her, she’d be a noose around his neck for the rest of his life. And he hadn’t been deliberately teasing her when he’d said he hoped to fall in love some day. He hadn’t been touched by such an emotion yet, but it appealed to his romantic nature.
    Besides, he was his own man. He didn’t need his sister procuring a wife! Especially such a contrary and argumentative one, with eyes that melted allhis resistance. In spite of her obstinacy, there was something fragile about Anne. It brought out the protector in him.
    His best defense was retreat and Aidan retreated all the way back to the tub. If the bathwater had been colder, he might have jumped in. As it was, when the back of his leg hit the tub edge, his precious soap plopped into the water.
    Aidan welcomed the distraction. But as he reached in the water to retrieve it, he thought, “Soap.” He straightened, his temper soaring and obliterating desire. “You used my soap!”
    She skewed her face as if she’d pictured many vivid possibilities when she’d committed the brazen act of placing herself in his bed. But being accused of using his soap hadn’t been one of them.
    “I used it to bathe,” she admitted. “I didn’t think you would mind.”
    “You used my bathwater ? And my towel ? You are the one who took my towel?”
    “Well, yes, I did. I mean, you couldn’t expect me to walk around wet.”
    The image her words evoked almost brought Aidan to his knees. He sat down in the chair, clasping his hands. Did she think he was a eunuch?
    Or was she wiser and more experienced than he had first imagined?
    “I laid the towel in front of the hearth to dry,” she was saying. “Otherwise it would have been too wet for when you bathed.”
    He whipped his head around to look and sure enough there was his towel within arm’s reach of the tub. He just hadn’t noticed it.
    “And I didn’t peek while you were bathing,” she assured him. Her face grew beet red and he knew she was chaste. No female wiles could fake such a glowing blush other than modesty. He hated the word.
    Aidan released his breath on a defeated sigh. “Anne, I have known many a rattle-pated person in my time, but you are a prize. You could wear me down—if I let you. Which I will not,” he added decisively. He rose to his feet, his body back under some semblance of control.
    “I want to consummate the marriage,” she insisted. “I want to honor our agreement.”
    “Your agreement is with Alpina. Consummate the marriage with her.”
    She frowned. “I can’t do that.” But before he could shoot back some biting bit of sarcasm, she stretched out on the bed, lying on her back, her gown covering her to her ankles, her bare toes pointing upward. “I’ll close my eyes. I won’t