Read Online Her Forbidden Gunslinger by Harper St. George - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Harper St. George
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voice was harsh against her ear.
Sophie savored the feel of his body against her, warm and comforting and so incredibly right it shouldn’t be forbidden. “Then let me go,” she whispered. “I could…I could wait for you or…or you could come with me.” Before she’d even finished she could feel him shaking his head.
“It won’t be that easy. This way is better. You just have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” It was an alarming concept. Jean had made it so she wasn’t sure she could ever trust anyone. Sophie pulled back just far enough to look up at him but it was too dark to see much except the shadowed outline of his features. “Are you saying I won’t have to marry Anton?”
He stared down at her and his thumb brushed her cheekbone, making the flesh there tingle. “I’m saying you have to trust me.”
The statement made her stomach flip-flop with anxiety. Could she trust him? He hadn’t told Jean the truth about that night but that could be because it saved him as much as it did her. How could she trust him when she didn’t even know what that meant? “Kiss me.”
There was no hesitation from him and in seconds his lips were on hers. The kiss was soft and tender, everything she imagined a goodbye kiss should be, but then he pressed inside and it became a kiss of hunger and promise that left her knees weak and made her lean heavily against him for support. When he released her, his hands held her face and his nose brushed hers. “Just trust me, Sophie.”
And God help her, she did.
* * *
The day of the wedding dawned dark with thunderclouds and a persistent chance of rain, in perfect accord with Sophie’s mood. She clutched her pillow tighter and stared out the window into one of the clouds as it drifted slowly by, reminding her of Gray’s eyes. Though she’d done nothing but think about it since he’d brought her back to her room, she hadn’t been able to figure out what he was planning. What did it mean to trust him? Would he stop the wedding? It would happen in mere hours if he didn’t stop it. Was that part of his plan? Or had he simply been trying to get her to go back to her room?
She didn’t know and it left her gripping her pillow with white-knuckled terror. She’d already determined that, no matter what, her participation in the wedding would be forced. She could not bring herself to marry Anton willingly. The words that would bind her to that man forever would never come forth from her lips. In the end, though, it wouldn’t matter. Jean would pay a bribe and it would be done, but at least she would know she had not married him in the eyes of God.
Her gaze moved from the cloud to the gown hanging in the corner and she felt her heart wrench. It really was a beautiful piece of work, just the sort of thing she had once dreamed of wearing to her wedding. White satin, with understated elegance and a few pieces of lace in all the right places. Now, if only the groom were right. She closed her eyes and without even trying, Gray stood there in his place. It was a foolish thought. He’d never want to marry her. Would he? She just didn’t know what he felt and it was making her irrational. As she was trying to figure it out, Martine knocked softly at the door.
She walked in just as Sophie raised her head. “I brought your breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Martine sighed, but didn’t comment as she set the tray aside. “Well, we should get started then.”
Sophie felt her stomach drop, but she nodded. The wedding would be at eleven sharp, downstairs in the parlor. If Gray had something planned, as the small hope flickering in the deepest recesses of her irrational mind insisted he did, then she wouldn’t ruin it by making Jean suspicious. So she sat demurely in front of her dresser while Martine fixed her hair, but all the while thinking of the way Gray had kissed her in that very same spot.
“It looks beautiful, if I do say so myself.” Martine smiled and admired her
Sophie savored the feel of his body against her, warm and comforting and so incredibly right it shouldn’t be forbidden. “Then let me go,” she whispered. “I could…I could wait for you or…or you could come with me.” Before she’d even finished she could feel him shaking his head.
“It won’t be that easy. This way is better. You just have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” It was an alarming concept. Jean had made it so she wasn’t sure she could ever trust anyone. Sophie pulled back just far enough to look up at him but it was too dark to see much except the shadowed outline of his features. “Are you saying I won’t have to marry Anton?”
He stared down at her and his thumb brushed her cheekbone, making the flesh there tingle. “I’m saying you have to trust me.”
The statement made her stomach flip-flop with anxiety. Could she trust him? He hadn’t told Jean the truth about that night but that could be because it saved him as much as it did her. How could she trust him when she didn’t even know what that meant? “Kiss me.”
There was no hesitation from him and in seconds his lips were on hers. The kiss was soft and tender, everything she imagined a goodbye kiss should be, but then he pressed inside and it became a kiss of hunger and promise that left her knees weak and made her lean heavily against him for support. When he released her, his hands held her face and his nose brushed hers. “Just trust me, Sophie.”
And God help her, she did.
* * *
The day of the wedding dawned dark with thunderclouds and a persistent chance of rain, in perfect accord with Sophie’s mood. She clutched her pillow tighter and stared out the window into one of the clouds as it drifted slowly by, reminding her of Gray’s eyes. Though she’d done nothing but think about it since he’d brought her back to her room, she hadn’t been able to figure out what he was planning. What did it mean to trust him? Would he stop the wedding? It would happen in mere hours if he didn’t stop it. Was that part of his plan? Or had he simply been trying to get her to go back to her room?
She didn’t know and it left her gripping her pillow with white-knuckled terror. She’d already determined that, no matter what, her participation in the wedding would be forced. She could not bring herself to marry Anton willingly. The words that would bind her to that man forever would never come forth from her lips. In the end, though, it wouldn’t matter. Jean would pay a bribe and it would be done, but at least she would know she had not married him in the eyes of God.
Her gaze moved from the cloud to the gown hanging in the corner and she felt her heart wrench. It really was a beautiful piece of work, just the sort of thing she had once dreamed of wearing to her wedding. White satin, with understated elegance and a few pieces of lace in all the right places. Now, if only the groom were right. She closed her eyes and without even trying, Gray stood there in his place. It was a foolish thought. He’d never want to marry her. Would he? She just didn’t know what he felt and it was making her irrational. As she was trying to figure it out, Martine knocked softly at the door.
She walked in just as Sophie raised her head. “I brought your breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Martine sighed, but didn’t comment as she set the tray aside. “Well, we should get started then.”
Sophie felt her stomach drop, but she nodded. The wedding would be at eleven sharp, downstairs in the parlor. If Gray had something planned, as the small hope flickering in the deepest recesses of her irrational mind insisted he did, then she wouldn’t ruin it by making Jean suspicious. So she sat demurely in front of her dresser while Martine fixed her hair, but all the while thinking of the way Gray had kissed her in that very same spot.
“It looks beautiful, if I do say so myself.” Martine smiled and admired her
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