Read Online Once Upon A Wedding Night by Sophie Jordan - Free Book Online
Authors: Sophie Jordan
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Oak Run if she behaved so recklessly? And one thing was for certain. The man could not be at Oak Run when she "gave birth." Matters were already complicated enough without him underfoot then.
"Blast it," Meredith muttered, slowing her horse to a trot. She had to avoid acting rashly in his presence. When forced into his company, she would be modest, demure, the perfect model of gentility—boring. He would leave for no other reason than to escape the absolute tedium of her company.
The woman fascinated him.
She was not quite the frigid piece of lace he had first determined. The way her eyes lingered on his naked chest testified to that. When they quarreled, sparks flew from her green eyes like a hot-blooded virago, lighting a fire in the pit of his gut that could not be quenched by any suitable means. She did not at all resemble the prim, retiring, drawing room lady he first thought her to be. Not when she looked upon him with desire. It was growing impossible to dismiss her from his mind. Especially since she hid something from him. Her nervousness around him could not totally be attributed to physical attraction.
He could not deny his annoyance as he watched her thunder away at breakneck speed, her auburn hair streaming in a wild banner behind her, the final remnants of her plait unraveling in the wind. He had half a mind to give chase and haul her bodily from that bloody horse. The woman was a menace to herself and her unborn child, regardless of how intriguing he found her.
What was she thinking riding a horse like that
? The idea of him tapping into all her fiery energy and seeing just how passionate her nature ran seized him. Scowling, Nick gathered his reins and swung himself into his saddle in one easy motion.
How had she managed all these years on her own exhibiting such poor judgment? He sighed and urged his horse into a trot. Most importantly, why did he care? Why couldn't he just walk away?
Slink back to the life he'd made? Why did he have to feel such bloody obligation to her, a sense of obligation that only increased with their growing acquaintance?
Nick tried to ignore the answer that teased at him like a pesky fly buzzing around the inside of his head. But it was no use. He wanted his brother's widow, wanted the woman carrying Edmund's baby. He gave his head a small shake. An attraction wrong on countless levels, but there it was, nonetheless.
As a man unaccustomed to self-denial, this spelled trouble. There was only one solution. He had to leave. Soon. Before he found out it was more than her auburn mane and tempting curves that attracted him.
----
Chapter 6
Meredith arrived to an empty dining room. Not unusual for a Sunday. Her aunt spent so much time selecting her clothes and turban for church, she often missed breakfast completely. Especially on the first Sunday of the month, when the vicar dined with them. Her aunt always wanted to look her best.
She exhaled, not realizing until that moment that she had been holding her breath in anticipation— and dread—of facing Nick.
Morning sunlight shot through the mullioned windows in bright beams, bringing the air to vibrant life with tiny motes of unknown particles. Turning, she let the warmth of the sun soak through her dress and into her back as she helped herself to eggs and kippers from the generous spread of food on the sideboard. Maree entered the room, leading her father to his chair with a firm hold on his elbow.
"Now, you sit yourself here and I'll fetch you a nice plate of eggs and—"
"Coffee, lots of cream," her father interrupted, his voice petulant as he settled in his chair.
Her father may have changed a great deal over the last years, but his preference for cream-laced coffee had not. Meredith smiled at the exchange as she succumbed to her sweet tooth and selected a plump sweet roll from the sideboard.
As Maree prepared her father's plate, Meredith set her plate aside to pour her father's coffee, making certain to include a
"Blast it," Meredith muttered, slowing her horse to a trot. She had to avoid acting rashly in his presence. When forced into his company, she would be modest, demure, the perfect model of gentility—boring. He would leave for no other reason than to escape the absolute tedium of her company.
The woman fascinated him.
She was not quite the frigid piece of lace he had first determined. The way her eyes lingered on his naked chest testified to that. When they quarreled, sparks flew from her green eyes like a hot-blooded virago, lighting a fire in the pit of his gut that could not be quenched by any suitable means. She did not at all resemble the prim, retiring, drawing room lady he first thought her to be. Not when she looked upon him with desire. It was growing impossible to dismiss her from his mind. Especially since she hid something from him. Her nervousness around him could not totally be attributed to physical attraction.
He could not deny his annoyance as he watched her thunder away at breakneck speed, her auburn hair streaming in a wild banner behind her, the final remnants of her plait unraveling in the wind. He had half a mind to give chase and haul her bodily from that bloody horse. The woman was a menace to herself and her unborn child, regardless of how intriguing he found her.
What was she thinking riding a horse like that
? The idea of him tapping into all her fiery energy and seeing just how passionate her nature ran seized him. Scowling, Nick gathered his reins and swung himself into his saddle in one easy motion.
How had she managed all these years on her own exhibiting such poor judgment? He sighed and urged his horse into a trot. Most importantly, why did he care? Why couldn't he just walk away?
Slink back to the life he'd made? Why did he have to feel such bloody obligation to her, a sense of obligation that only increased with their growing acquaintance?
Nick tried to ignore the answer that teased at him like a pesky fly buzzing around the inside of his head. But it was no use. He wanted his brother's widow, wanted the woman carrying Edmund's baby. He gave his head a small shake. An attraction wrong on countless levels, but there it was, nonetheless.
As a man unaccustomed to self-denial, this spelled trouble. There was only one solution. He had to leave. Soon. Before he found out it was more than her auburn mane and tempting curves that attracted him.
----
Chapter 6
Meredith arrived to an empty dining room. Not unusual for a Sunday. Her aunt spent so much time selecting her clothes and turban for church, she often missed breakfast completely. Especially on the first Sunday of the month, when the vicar dined with them. Her aunt always wanted to look her best.
She exhaled, not realizing until that moment that she had been holding her breath in anticipation— and dread—of facing Nick.
Morning sunlight shot through the mullioned windows in bright beams, bringing the air to vibrant life with tiny motes of unknown particles. Turning, she let the warmth of the sun soak through her dress and into her back as she helped herself to eggs and kippers from the generous spread of food on the sideboard. Maree entered the room, leading her father to his chair with a firm hold on his elbow.
"Now, you sit yourself here and I'll fetch you a nice plate of eggs and—"
"Coffee, lots of cream," her father interrupted, his voice petulant as he settled in his chair.
Her father may have changed a great deal over the last years, but his preference for cream-laced coffee had not. Meredith smiled at the exchange as she succumbed to her sweet tooth and selected a plump sweet roll from the sideboard.
As Maree prepared her father's plate, Meredith set her plate aside to pour her father's coffee, making certain to include a
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