Read Online Stephen’s Bride by Callie Hutton - Free Book Online Page A

when she was more than ready for him to strip off her clothes right there and introduce her to the mysteries of married love.
    Love? No. She didn’t love him, didn’t want to love him, and did not want his love in return.
    Admit it. I’m afraid.
    She doused the lamp and climbed into bed. Alone. The way she’d gone to bed all her life. Having a husband hadn’t changed that. She slept here, he slept on the sofa in her bedroom.
    Where is he?
    After a good hour of tossing and turning, she fell into a troubled sleep, her body aching in places she’d never been aware of before.
    Calliope sat up abruptly in bed, her head cocked at whatever the noise was that had awakened her. For a minute she was muddle-headed as she tried to clear her brain. Then she heard it again. A wolf’s cry. The damned wolf was back to attack her chickens.
    She scurried out of bed, raced down the stairs and grabbed the shotgun from the wall over the fireplace. She burst outside, slipping a bit on the wet mud. It had started to rain, but she didn’t have time to go back for a slicker and shoes. The annoying animal had killed two of her chickens last week. She couldn’t afford to lose any more.
    In the darkness, all she could see was a stealth animal slowly circling the chickens who squawked enough to wake the dead. She moved closer, using the sleeve of her nightgown to wipe the water from her eyes. The rain had turned heavier, but it hadn’t deterred the wolf, so it wouldn’t deter her, either.
    She cocked the shotgun and raised it to her shoulder. The blast rang out, but instead of dropping on the spot, the wolf raced away.
    “Damn.” She set the butt of the shotgun into the mud.
    “Calliope!” Stephen’s voice rang through the night. She wiped her eyes once more and stared in the direction of the voice. He came through the wall of water and grabbed her to his soaked body. He wore only his trousers, no socks or shoes or shirt. “What the hell are you doing, woman?”
    “The chickens. The wolf was going to get more chickens.” She shouted over the downpour and shoved back the hair plastered on her forehead.
    He shook his head and leaned back to look her in the eyes. “I heard it. I was coming out. But you need to get back into the house.”
    She turned to take a step and slipped in the mud. Before she had barely righted herself, strong arms scooped her up. “Hold onto the shotgun.”
    Stephen strode to the house with her huddled against him, the end of the shotgun stock fisted in her hand. She was soaked to the skin and had begun to shiver by the time he reached the front door. He reached under her and opened the door, pushing it closed with his foot.
    Once they reached the parlor, he paced her on her feet and grabbed the gun from her. He placed it back onto the rack and turned. His eyes grew wide and his lips parted.
    ***
    All the blood in Stephen’s body raced to his groin and within a matter of seconds he was hard as a rock. The rain had plastered Calliope’s nightgown to her body, revealing every inch, curve and dip. He swallowed and whispered, “My God, you’re beautiful.”
    Seeing where his eyes led, she looked down at herself and squeaked. She pulled the gown out, but the weight of the water drew it back so it was plastered to her once more. She crossed her arms over her breasts, then re-considering, placed her hand at the juncture of her thighs.
    “No. No, don’t cover yourself.” He moved toward her, almost as if drawn by an invisible cord.
    She shivered, whether from desire or the cold he didn’t know. “You need to get out of that gown. I’ll make a fire to warm you.”
    “I don’t have anything else to put on.” She attempted to step around him, but he was having none of that. Holding onto her arm to keep her from running, he plucked the wool knitted blanket from the sofa and wrapped it around her.
    “Sit on the floor by the fireplace and I’ll make a fire. It’s colder upstairs than it is down here.” Before