Read Online Devil's Bride by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online Page B

eight feet high. An archway gave onto an avenue lined with poplars. Through the shifting leaves, she sighted the house, still some way to the left. It was huge—a long central block with perpendicular wings at each end, like an E without the middle stroke. Directly ahead lay a sprawling stable complex.
    The proximity of the stables prompted her to speech. “I suggest, Your Grace, that we agree to disagree over the likely outcome of last night. I acknowledge your concern but see no reason to tie myself up in matrimony to avoid a few months’ whispers. Given your reputation, you can hardly argue.” That, she felt, was a nicely telling touch.
    â€œMy dear Miss Anstruther-Wetherby.” His gentle, perfectly lethal purr sounded in her left ear; tingles streaked down her spine. “Let me make one point perfectly clear. I don’t intend to argue. You, an Anstruther-Wetherby, have been compromised, however innocently, by me, a Cynster. There is, therefore, no question over the outcome; hence, there can be no argument.”
    Honoria gritted her teeth so tightly her jaw ached. The struggle to suppress the shudder that purring murmur of his evoked distracted her all the way to the stable arch. They rode beneath it, Sulieman’s hooves clattering on the cobbles. Two grooms came running but pulled up short of where Devil reined in his black steed.
    â€œWhere’s Melton?”
    â€œNot yet about, Y’r Grace.”
    Honoria heard her rescuer—or was that captor?—curse beneath his breath. Entirely without warning, he dismounted—by bringing his leg over the pommel, taking her to the ground with him. She didn’t have time to shriek.
    Catching her breath, she realized her feet had yet to reach earth—he was holding her still, firmly caught against him; another shudder threatened. She drew breath to protest—on the instant, he gently set her down.
    Lips compressed, Honoria haughtily brushed down her skirts. Straightening, she turned toward him—he caught her hand, grabbed the reins, and headed for the stable block, towing her and his black demon behind him.
    Honoria swallowed her protest; she’d rather go with him than cool her heels in the stable yard, a prey to his grooms’ curiosity. Gloom, filled with the familiar smells of hay and horses, engulfed her. “Why can’t your grooms brush him down?”
    â€œThey’re too frightened of him—only old Melton can handle him.” Honoria looked at Sulieman—the horse looked steadily back.
    His master stopped before a large stall. Released, Honoria leaned against the stall door. Arms crossed, she pondered her predicament while watching her captor—she was increasingly certain that was a more accurate description of him—rub down his fearsome steed.
    Muscles bunched and relaxed; the sight was positively mesmerizing. He’d told her to get used to it; she doubted she ever could. He bent, then fluidly straightened and shifted to the horse’s other side; his chest came into view. Honoria drew in a slow breath—then he caught her eye.
    For one instant, their gazes held—then Honoria looked away, first at the tack hanging along the stable wall, then up at the rafters, inwardly berating herself for her reaction, simultaneously wishing she had a fan to hand.
    It was never wise to tangle with autocrats, but, given she had no choice, she needed to remember that it was positively fatal to acknowledge he had any power over her.
    Determined to hold her own, she ordered her mind to business. If he believed honor demanded he marry her, she’d need to try a different tack. She frowned. “I do not see that it’s fair that, purely because I was stranded by a storm and took shelter in the same cottage as you, I should have to redirect my life. I am not a passive spectator waiting for the next occurrence to happen—I have plans!” Devil glanced up. “Riding in the shadow of