Read Online Heaven in His Arms by Lisa Ann Verge - Free Book Online Page A

you."
    "On the contrary ..."
    "Don't you dare deny it!"
    "Deny what?"
    "You wanted me dead!"
    He held up his hand. "I don't think—"
    "It's true! You got what you wanted, then you abandoned me to my fate."
    Fool of a man, whoever it was that this woman searched for. No man with red blood pumping in his veins would take this woman and then abandon her without a final taste; there were few enough women in the settlements, and fewer of such generous bounty. She definitely had the wrong person, though she knew him by name. Andre had a policy about Frenchwomen that he made clear before a love affair: no promises, no commitment, no complications.
    He approached so she could get a better look at his face, for the candlelight in the room was dim. "I think you judge me too harshly, cherie. "
    "Don't you dare call me darling."
    "You don't understand—"
    "Oh, I understand better than you think." Her bosom heaved dangerously against the restriction of her clothing. "You chose the wrong woman to take advantage of, monsieur. I was sick, not a fool."
    There was still no doubt in those green eyes, only anger and accusation and a growing impatience. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her she had made a mistake, but the words stuck like glue to his lips. If he told her, she would leave, and this was the most intriguing visitor he'd had since he returned to New France.
    It was his last night. One final sniff of French perfume would be a fine way to say goodbye to civilization.
    "Speechless with shame, are you? I should think so. How does it feel to be caught slipping away like a thief in the night?"
    His gaze wandered over her pale pink dress, lingering on the creamy swell of her breasts, then slipped down to her narrow waist and over the flair of her skirts. "I find myself . . . pleased to be captured."
    Her lips parted in a gasp. Desire rushed hot through his blood. Not since Aix-en-Provence, where he had made the mistake of taking a mistress who expected more out of him than money, had he enjoyed a woman. It had taken weeks to disentangle himself from that relationship. Frenchwomen always complicated a good night's worth of lusty lovemaking with so much baggage—vows of eternal devotion, fidelity, paroxysms of guilt about their own sensuality. Andre was looking forward to the simple, honest passion of an Indian woman.
    He met her eyes. They sparkled with a strange mixture of fury and surprise. He wondered if she were playing some sort of vixen's game. Perhaps she had seen him in Montreal, had wanted him, but now that she had dared to join him in the confines of his room, she'd lost the courage to tell him precisely why she was here. He glanced down at the woven basket she'd tossed between them. There was no doubt; she had come to spend the night. It wouldn't be the first time a woman had played an elaborate role in order to justify her own infidelity. The lengths civilized women went to hide their own passion.. . . Well, he was more than willing to go along with the charade if it meant an evening rolling in the linens with this lovely creature.
    He pressed closer . . . close enough to cast his shadow over her. "I think there's been a misunderstanding between us."
    "You call abandonment a misunderstanding."
    "I was a fool to abandon you," he murmured, playing along with the game. Her lower lip was plump and wet, fuller than her upper one. As juicy as a ripe peach it was, all pouty and centered with the faintest dimple. He wound his fingers around her shoulders and pulled her against him. "Come, love. Forgive me my wrongs."
    She jerked in his embrace. "You must be jesting."
    "At least let me make it up to you."
    Her mouth parted, but before she could speak, he met those inviting lips with his own. Her breath caught and held. Her heart thumped hard beneath her breasts, hesitated, and stopped, then thumped harder still. He pressed his nose against her cheek as he deepened the kiss, smelling river mist and rain, along with fresh