Read Online Kate: A Universal Truth (A Wish for Love Series Book 1) by Mia Shales - Free Book Online
Authors: Mia Shales
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friends.
His only problem was love. He had never been in love.
Of course there had been several women whose company he had, at one time or another, especially enjoyed, and there had been those towards whom, for short periods, he had a certain feeling, but he had never felt anything that could be defined as love.
The women he went out with always wanted more. They all wished to yoke their lives to his forever, and each was sure she would be the one to cause him to go down on his knees and swear eternal love and faithfulness.
But the Marquis Camedon was in no hurry to commit himself.
He always made his views clear from the start, warning them that he had no interest in tying himself down to any one woman, that he was not seeking a deep or lasting relationship. Even so most of the relationships ended in heartbreak for the woman and indifference on his part.
He was perfectly pleased with his life just as it was.
He sat at the edge of the table and stared at the picture on the wall. Kate Evans was different from all the other women he had ever met. She was very bright and very attractive, but the same could be said of many of the women in his past. No. Something else made her exceptional. A certain nobility, purity and beauty blended with a strong character and firm principles. He could not recall the time a woman, any woman, had refused to dance with him. He had to admit he had not expected such a reaction.
He had not expected her to make such a deep impression on him.
Not a day, not an hour had gone by since he first met her that he didn't think of her, remembering her smooth skin and full, sweet lips, seeing in front of him, again and again, her almond eyes and smooth, silken brown hair.
Damn it, he wanted her desperately.
And he would have her, he promised himself. He did not know how or when but she would most assuredly be his. He would not rest until his passion for her was slaked.
“Milord.”
Miss Stevens, one of the staff of Bellewoodplain, stood in the doorway, a silver tray in her hand and on it the morning mail. His eyes were drawn to an envelope with a Spanish postmark. He had tried to teach his grandmother to correspond via email but she refused to learn. After her husband's death the dowager had moved to the family estate in Norfolk. The daughter of a Spanish grandee, she kept many of the social codes and traditions she had been brought up on. She tended to spend the winter months at the Camedon mansion in Spain, visiting and receiving her numerous relatives. Before her last trip she had invited Matthew and announced, without much beating about the bush, that it was high time he found a wife. He knew that when it came to his grandmother, nothing was said idly.
“And who, may I ask, is the candidate you've selected?” he asked with feigned curiosity.
“Gabriella Estaban, the daughter of Don Francisco Estaban,” his grandmother announced triumphantly. “She is eighteen, beautiful and her mother is related to the king of Spain.”
“Abuela," he used the spanish word for grandmother, "you surprise me. Did you really think I would agree? That I would be ready to consider marriage to a girl whose mother's milk has barely dried on her lips?” He laughed brusquely. “However did you get such an absurd idea into your head? Haven't you heard that arranged marriages have passed from this world? That people marry for love?”
“Bah, love!” she snorted contemptuously. “What is love? After the wedding there will be plenty of time for you to fall in love with your wife.” Her look softened, “you have always brought honor to the family, you were a good son and devoted to Rebecca, but it all has no meaning if you do not have an heir. You need a wife! I've closed my eyes to your escapades and ignored your fondness for models and actresses. A man needs women and I won't argue with you on that point. But when it comes to marriage, things
His only problem was love. He had never been in love.
Of course there had been several women whose company he had, at one time or another, especially enjoyed, and there had been those towards whom, for short periods, he had a certain feeling, but he had never felt anything that could be defined as love.
The women he went out with always wanted more. They all wished to yoke their lives to his forever, and each was sure she would be the one to cause him to go down on his knees and swear eternal love and faithfulness.
But the Marquis Camedon was in no hurry to commit himself.
He always made his views clear from the start, warning them that he had no interest in tying himself down to any one woman, that he was not seeking a deep or lasting relationship. Even so most of the relationships ended in heartbreak for the woman and indifference on his part.
He was perfectly pleased with his life just as it was.
He sat at the edge of the table and stared at the picture on the wall. Kate Evans was different from all the other women he had ever met. She was very bright and very attractive, but the same could be said of many of the women in his past. No. Something else made her exceptional. A certain nobility, purity and beauty blended with a strong character and firm principles. He could not recall the time a woman, any woman, had refused to dance with him. He had to admit he had not expected such a reaction.
He had not expected her to make such a deep impression on him.
Not a day, not an hour had gone by since he first met her that he didn't think of her, remembering her smooth skin and full, sweet lips, seeing in front of him, again and again, her almond eyes and smooth, silken brown hair.
Damn it, he wanted her desperately.
And he would have her, he promised himself. He did not know how or when but she would most assuredly be his. He would not rest until his passion for her was slaked.
“Milord.”
Miss Stevens, one of the staff of Bellewoodplain, stood in the doorway, a silver tray in her hand and on it the morning mail. His eyes were drawn to an envelope with a Spanish postmark. He had tried to teach his grandmother to correspond via email but she refused to learn. After her husband's death the dowager had moved to the family estate in Norfolk. The daughter of a Spanish grandee, she kept many of the social codes and traditions she had been brought up on. She tended to spend the winter months at the Camedon mansion in Spain, visiting and receiving her numerous relatives. Before her last trip she had invited Matthew and announced, without much beating about the bush, that it was high time he found a wife. He knew that when it came to his grandmother, nothing was said idly.
“And who, may I ask, is the candidate you've selected?” he asked with feigned curiosity.
“Gabriella Estaban, the daughter of Don Francisco Estaban,” his grandmother announced triumphantly. “She is eighteen, beautiful and her mother is related to the king of Spain.”
“Abuela," he used the spanish word for grandmother, "you surprise me. Did you really think I would agree? That I would be ready to consider marriage to a girl whose mother's milk has barely dried on her lips?” He laughed brusquely. “However did you get such an absurd idea into your head? Haven't you heard that arranged marriages have passed from this world? That people marry for love?”
“Bah, love!” she snorted contemptuously. “What is love? After the wedding there will be plenty of time for you to fall in love with your wife.” Her look softened, “you have always brought honor to the family, you were a good son and devoted to Rebecca, but it all has no meaning if you do not have an heir. You need a wife! I've closed my eyes to your escapades and ignored your fondness for models and actresses. A man needs women and I won't argue with you on that point. But when it comes to marriage, things
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