Read Online Consumed by Fire by Anne Stuart - Free Book Online Page A

tenderness a polar opposite of the fierce sexual possession. She wanted to cling to him; she wanted to cry. She’d never felt like this before, even remotely. He’d leave, and she’d get over it. But right now he was here, and that was enough.
    She could feel his mouth at her ear, just as she could feel his chest against her tender back, feel the hard bar of his cock against her butt. He kissed her, very softly. “This isn’t good,” he whispered. “This isn’t what I planned.”
    “What isn’t?” she asked sleepily, snuggling against him.
    “You. Me. This was supposed to be a one-night stand.”
    “It isn’t?”
    “No, it isn’t. Go to sleep, Angel. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”
    She pressed against him, feeling like a lazy kitten. “Why do you call me angel?”
    It took him so long to answer that she was almost asleep by the time he spoke. “Your name’s Evangeline. You’re not an Eva, a Vangie, or a Lina. Angel seems to fit.”
    She felt a stifled burst of laughter. “After what we just did? I think I’m going to burn in hell. I’d better go back to the church and confess my sins.”
    Did he stiffen, just a little bit? No, she was imagining it. “No,” he said. “We’ll find a church in Venice.”
    That was enough to make her lift her head to turn and look at him. He was looking sleepy, at ease, as if he’d made up his mind about something. She wrinkled her brow. “Why should we find a church in Venice?” she asked.
    “To get married, Angel. We’re getting married.”

Chapter Four
    Bishop heard Evangeline’s soft laugh before she sank back against him, and a moment later she was asleep. He really wanted to roll her over on her stomach, take her from the back, right then, but she was worn out, and he’d give her that. She clearly didn’t have a lot of sexual experience. That, or she’d had phenomenally lousy lovers. Maybe both. He hadn’t met anyone who was squeamish about going down on him, but he really knew very little about her. Maybe she was a religious fundamentalist. No, scratch that—she’d certainly liked his mouth between her legs. So had he. Keeping her in a kind of thrall would be easy enough. Getting her to marry him would be relatively simple. Love at first sight, he’d tell her, with a rueful expression, and she’d believe him.
    It was a drastic solution, but the only one he could think of. There were few hard-and-fast rules within the ultra-secretive Committee, even under Peter Madsen’s more reasonable rule, but one that held firm was that no one could kill a spouse. Only the operative himself. Occasionally there had been instances where people had married an infiltrator, intent on destroying the covert organization from the inside, and it had been up to that operative to take care of things. It had never been a problem.
    But otherwise family members were off-limits, and if Claudia broke that rule, the punishment would fit the crime. She’d have no choice but to keep away. Claudia might be enraged, but she’d accept it. She knew the rules, and no one argued with Peter Madsen.
    It would take a few phone calls to arrange things in Venice, but with Madsen pulling strings, it would be easy enough to cut through the red tape. He looked down at her, sleeping so peacefully in his arms. Marriage was nothing—it was simply another tool in an operative’s arsenal. He knew of many who’d married half a dozen times, none of them legal. He would marry anyone the Committee told him to. He knew that marriage and family and a normal life were no part of his future, ever. If a legal marriage to Evangeline would keep her alive, it was no skin off his ass. He hated collateral damage, particularly when it involved women or children, and he’d do anything he could to prevent it. If marrying Evangeline was the only solution, then he had no compunctions, though it wouldn’t have been his first choice. He didn’t expect it would make any difference in his actions in