Read Online Ondine by Heather Graham, Shannon Drake - Free Book Online

not realize that he was aware of her total lack of interest until he swept the plate suddenly from her, bringing her eyes to his once again.
    She gazed into his eyes. All amusement had fallen from them, as had any sensual taunt. She stiffened, sensing the sudden flare of a cold and ruthless anger within him. Her mouth went dry. She thought again that there was no escape, that he could catch her before she could rise from the table.
    “Listen!” he snapped at her. “You’ve a role to take on, my gallows’ bride, and I’d appreciate a modicum of effort on your part Rather, dear wife, I demand it.”
    A pulse ticked at his throat above the fine white linen of his shirt. Ondine blinked and nodded, wondering at the many faces of the man. The charming, seductive rake, the steel-edged autocrat, and the sensitive gentleman who had set his arms about her to buffer her view of the hanging. Which, then, of these faces, was the man?
    Irritably he repeated himself. “Justin is my brother. Clinton manages the estate. Mathilda is the housekeeper. She is quite proficient, and if you listen and follow her lead, you’ll have no difficulty acting out the titled dame. They have long been with Chatham; it is their home as it is mine. I rule my land, as it is mine, but we live pleasantly there. None is cruelly treated. Do you understand?”
    She was quite tempted to pull her plate back and see how he appeared with gravy framing his insolent eyes. Who did he think she was? Surely she had managed a household of far grander scale than his “manor” in the barely civilized north.
    She opened her eyes with wide and malicious innocence. “Dear Lord Chatham! I shall certainly do my best to refrain from flying into a ‘common’ fit and thrashing your servants. Is that what you wish me to comprehend?”
    He leaned back again, annoyed. “Madam, you’ll learn to watch your tongue.”
    Long seconds passed as their glares locked, and Ondine’s eyes were the first to fall. She folded her hands in her lap, discovering that in one thing he was right. She hadn’t eaten much, but it seemed all that she could manage. It was imperative now that she be humble and gracious, lest she arouse his suspicions.
    “I beg your pardon,” she told him demurely.
    “Why don’t I believe that?” he muttered so softly that she might have imagined the words.
    She looked at him, careful to keep the discussion focused upon her future life with him. “When Jake first came to me upon the cart, he said that some might say that I had wed a ‘beast.’ Are you a beast, milord Chatham?”
    He made a ticking sound of annoyance and downed more ale. “The beast sits upon my armor, lady, nothing more.”
    “Pray tell, what is this beast?”
    He gazed at her dryly. “A dragon creature. Half lion, half myth. They say that once such ‘beasts’ roamed our forests, protecting Saxons from Normans—and Royalists from Cromwell’s wrath. I’ve yet to see one, myself, except in art and whimsy.”
    Ondine smiled at little wistfully then, noting the charm of his grin. She was clean, her stomach was comfortably fed, and the promise of a new freedom loomed before her. She could afford to exchange a few words with the man, moments in which to lull him further to trust.
    “When you wear the armor, sir, are you then the beast?”
    He cocked his head slightly, arching a brow. “What we are is in how we are beheld, is it not?”
    “So it would seem. Are there those who might behold you, then, a beast?”
    “How can I judge for others?”
    She picked up her goblet, twirling it idly in her hand, and scrutinized him quite openly, narrowing her eyes as if she gave the matter great thought.
    “Aye, my lord Chatham, I can see where you might upon occasion appear the beast.”
    “Do you? But then beasts can be quite tame, can’t they? And, my lady, my given name is Warwick. You must use it, at least upon occasion.”
    He reached across the table suddenly, catching a lock of her hair