Free Rule's Bride by Kat Martin Page B

one of those sweet smiles was intended for him.
    He watched her until, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her cousin, Caroline. He straightened as he realized the girl was in conversation with his best friend, Lucas Barclay. Good God, Caroline Lockhart was as innocent as Violet, and, he noticed for the very first time, far more beautiful than he had realized.
    And Luke was eyeing her like a wolf with a fresh piece of meat.
    Rule strode toward them. “I see you’ve met my cousin, Miss Lockhart.”
    One of Luke’s dark eyebrows went up. “Your cousin?”
    â€œMy wife’s cousin. My cousin by marriage.” Rule tried for a smile but it was thin at best.
    â€œAh, yes. I have yet to meet your lovely bride. Amazing, isn’t it? My best friend has a wife and I am the last to know.”
    Rule sighed. “It’s a long story. I realize I owe you an explanation. Perhaps over lunch on the morrow?”
    â€œOh, indeed. Better late than never.” Luke’s tight smile softened as he gazed down at the little blonde. “In the meantime, Miss Lockhart has just agreed to partner me in a waltz.” He extended his arm. “Shall we, Miss Lockhart?”
    She accepted Luke’s arm and returned his smile. “I would be delighted.”
    They started forward but Rule stepped in front of them. “One dance, Luke. That’s all.”
    Luke eyed him darkly. He made a stiff nod of his head. “I shall keep your wishes in mind.” But he didn’t say he would obey them. Luke was angry that Rule had kept his marriage a secret.
    He had a right to be, Rule supposed. The two of them were like brothers.
    But then he hadn’t told his brothers, either.
    He watched the couple on the dance floor, Luke tall and dark, Caroline small, blue-eyed and fair. They made a handsome couple, might even make a good match—except that Luke was the biggest rake in London and fiercely opposed to marriage.
    Rule inwardly sighed. Already his duties as husband were starting. He had a responsibility to his wife, but also to her family. He blew out a breath, wishing his first duty wasn’t to guard his cousin-in-law against his best friend.

Six
    H alf an hour passed. Rule decided to make a quick trip through the gaming room, see what sort of fires he might put out there, then collect his wife and go home.
    He smiled as he walked down the hall, oddly pleased by the thought. My wife. Never once had it occurred to him he might like having a woman belong to him. Still smiling, he had just turned the corner when a lady gowned in scarlet silk appeared in front of him. Evelyn Dreyer, Viscountess St. Ives.
    â€œGood evening, my lady,” he said to his former mistress. “You’re looking quite splendid tonight.” With her pale blond hair and amazing cheekbones, she was a beautiful woman. Rule gazed at her and thought of hair the color of flames and a pert nose dotted with intriguing little freckles.
    â€œI just heard the news,” Evelyn said with a viperous smile. “You are married.”
    â€œYes, I am.”
    â€œFor quite some time, I gather.”
    â€œThree years.” Though still not officially, since he hadn’t yet bedded his bride, but that was none of Evie’s business.
    Her mouth thinned. Before he realized her intent, her hand snaked out and connected solidly with his cheek.
    â€œYou’re married,” she said. “How dare you!”
    Rule rubbed his cheek. “In case you have forgot, my dear, you are also married. In point of fact, your husband is currently standing in the ballroom.”
    â€œIt is not the same thing.”
    â€œIndeed? The viscount might disagree.”
    â€œHarold is old and ugly and cannot even function while your wife is…is…”
    â€œBeautiful and desirable?”
    Her slender nose went into the air. “I didn’t say that.”
    â€œYou didn’t have to marry Harold. You