Read Online In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) by Cynthia Wicklund - Free Book Online

cheek,
intense blue eyes boring into hers. She could smell his crisp linen
and the enticing masculine scent of shaving soap. His hand curled
around her neck, his thumb slipping into her hair. A longing so
intense took hold of her, for a moment she could only stare at him,
lips parting in wonder.
    His
gaze dropped to her mouth.
    It
was a tentative kiss, contact that was almost no contact at all, back
and forth softly with just a hint of his tongue. Something inside her
melted, and despite her reservations she did not pull away.
    Emboldened,
James deepened the kiss, easing her back on the seat as he did so,
gripping her hair gently. She could feel his fingers massaging her
scalp, and her entire body instantly pebbled with goose flesh.
    He
eased his other hand beneath the jacket of her traveling gown,
feeling his way slowly.
    “Stays,”
he murmured hotly. “Damn them!”
    His
voice sounded far away, but vaguely she agreed with him. Damn
them, indeed.
    He
grasped her breast, rolling the soft flesh beneath his palm,
stimulating the tip until she could feel it pucker. His breathing
intensified, and he moved his mouth to her jaw and down her throat.
    Amanda’s
contribution to the exercise was passive, too overcome by a sensual
lethargy that crept over her limbs but left every cell in her body
tense with expectation. She was back on her feather bed on the night
of her wedding, experiencing sensations completely and enticingly new
to her, flushed with excitement and the joy of being held by someone
she loved, someone who loved her…
    Pain
like acid rained on her senses, all the more agonizing because she
was aroused. She wanted him to make love to her even now, even though
he had fooled her, most likely was fooling her again. How quickly he
had seduced her, brought her to the point of capitulating. Now whom
was she fooling? To the point of begging was more accurate.
    A
sob caught in her throat, and she rolled away from him, falling to
the floor of the carriage. Her crinoline popped up exposing her
drawers.
    “What
the hell did you do that for?” James gasped, his eyes bright
with lust.
    He
reached for her, but Amanda scrambled off the floor and onto the seat
across from him.
    “I’ll
not do it, do you hear?” she cried, pulling at her skirt.
    “Why
not? We’ve put this off for two days. We are married, Amanda. I
want to make love to my wife.”
    “I
don’t feel like your wife.”
    “What
is that supposed to mean?” he barked.
    Amanda
felt like wringing her hands. Instead she clasped them tightly in her
lap. All she wanted was to fling herself back into his arms and a let
him ease the burning ache that his lovemaking had started. But what
was she to do with the ache in her heart? If she gave in to him now,
she would never forgive herself. Her pride, what little was left of
it, was all she had.
    “I
feel used and soiled because of it.”
    “Used?”
He sounded incredulous. “Have I treated you with less than
respect?”
    “Respect
is only a part of it, can’t you see that?”
    “What
are you talking about? I know you’re angry with me—”
    “If
only it were as simple as anger,” she whispered.
    That
stopped him. “Then what are we to do?” he asked at last.
    “I
need time…”
    “The
longer we wait the more difficult it will be.”
    Amanda
lifted one shoulder irritably. “It’s difficult for me
right now.”
    “How
much time do you need?” Was that frustration in his voice?
    “I
don’t know. Until I feel better about all this.”
    For
a long while he merely watched her and, as the moments ticked by, her
heart began to thump erratically. He was angry, that much she sensed.
    “A
marriage is a contract,” he said. “And the marriage bed
is part of that contract. I am fair to have certain expectations.”
    “Since
when did fair begin to matter?” Only when it pertained to him,
it seemed. Now she was angry, also.
    “I
want children, Amanda.”
    Amanda
averted her gaze, annoyed that the mention of