Read Online Taming His Scandalous Countess by Viola Morne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Viola Morne
Ads: Link
start
drinking right now. I'm a wreck anyway."
Frost tapped long white fingers on
the armrest.
"My dear fellow, this simply
won't do. You are the Earl of Snow, a peer of the realm. You mustn't allow your
wife or your more tender feelings to rule you. It's not done."
Snow rubbed his jaw. "I
know."
"Lucky for you, I believe I
have a solution."
Snow raised a brow. "I'm not
sure you are the best person to give me advice."
Frost smiled, his crocodile smile
which never reached his eyes. "Trust me, my old friend, you'll love
it."
"And Isabelle, will she love
it too?"
Frost pursed his lips, considering.
"I think she'll learn to. If she is as willing as you would have me
believe."
"Have you forgotten the part
of the conversation where I told you she is headstrong?"
"My dear Snow, that will just
make it more...rewarding."
*
* * * *
Isabelle had finally fallen into a
fitful doze. She hadn't really slept well since...her mind shied away from
those memories. She had tried to smother them, all of them, but they smoldered,
like hot coals whose blackened surface would return to burning life with a puff
of blown air.
A soft knock on her door woke her
up. Snow. A tingle of erotic anticipation cut through her lingering resentment.
She still wanted him, damn his eyes. Isabelle sat up.
Snow entered and walked towards the
bed. He stopped beside her, his candle illuminating the planes and hollows of
his face. He did not smile but motioned to her wrapper, which lay at the bottom
of the bed.
"Put that on and come
downstairs."
Isabelle swallowed at his hard,
unyielding tone. It was the voice he used to enforce his will on her body. It
meant pain and submission, and, sometimes, glorious release. She knew better
than to dawdle. She accepted his assistance to clamber over the side of the
bed. Isabelle picked up the thin silk garment and drew it over her shoulders,
tying it carefully. His hand fell on her shoulder and she shivered. His fingers
pressed down, guided her to the door, where they dropped to grasp her elbow
firmly.
"Are you frightened?" he
murmured in her ear, so close she could feel the moist heat of his breath. She
nodded. His hand moved to her breast and squeezed hard until she gasped, before
dropping to her elbow once more.
"Good."
He pulled her along the upper
corridor and then walked her, his hand hard, down the stairs, through the
silent and deserted hall, along the passage to his study. The door lay open. A
log fire crackled on the hearth. He pushed her into the room and shut the door,
turning the key in the lock.
"My dear, we have
company."
She paused. This was new. A fair
man unfolded from the wing chair where he'd sat in shadow.
"Lady Snow, a pleasure, as
always." A graceful bow.
"Mr. Frost." A curtsy was
beyond her. What was he doing here, with those cold eyes fixed on her, the thin
smile that always made her shudder?
"Brandy, Snow?"
"Yes, thank you." Snow
dropped onto the sofa and pulled her to kneel beside him. She sought her
husband's gaze for reassurance, but he was looking at the fire. Frost splashed
brandy in two glasses and brought one to Snow. He stood beside Isabelle as she
knelt, his satin breeches stretched over his swollen member. Isabelle turned
her head away. Frost grasped her chin and raised her face.
"So shy." He turned to
Snow. "I don't think she likes me.""
Snow shrugged. "That hardly
matters."
Frost laughed softly; the sound
slithered along her spine. He sat down, one leg flung over the chair arm, his
erection on blatant display.
"But, you must admit, my dear
Snow, that it does add a certain piquancy to the evening." His gaze never
left Isabelle as she huddled closer to her husband's side.
Snow tossed off the brandy. He bent
over Isabelle, unbound the tie of her wrapper and pushed it off her shoulders.
The night rail beneath was of sheerest silk. She tried to stand, intent on
fleeing. Snow pushed her slowly back to the floor. She tried to speak but he pressed
a finger to her lips
drinking right now. I'm a wreck anyway."
Frost tapped long white fingers on
the armrest.
"My dear fellow, this simply
won't do. You are the Earl of Snow, a peer of the realm. You mustn't allow your
wife or your more tender feelings to rule you. It's not done."
Snow rubbed his jaw. "I
know."
"Lucky for you, I believe I
have a solution."
Snow raised a brow. "I'm not
sure you are the best person to give me advice."
Frost smiled, his crocodile smile
which never reached his eyes. "Trust me, my old friend, you'll love
it."
"And Isabelle, will she love
it too?"
Frost pursed his lips, considering.
"I think she'll learn to. If she is as willing as you would have me
believe."
"Have you forgotten the part
of the conversation where I told you she is headstrong?"
"My dear Snow, that will just
make it more...rewarding."
*
* * * *
Isabelle had finally fallen into a
fitful doze. She hadn't really slept well since...her mind shied away from
those memories. She had tried to smother them, all of them, but they smoldered,
like hot coals whose blackened surface would return to burning life with a puff
of blown air.
A soft knock on her door woke her
up. Snow. A tingle of erotic anticipation cut through her lingering resentment.
She still wanted him, damn his eyes. Isabelle sat up.
Snow entered and walked towards the
bed. He stopped beside her, his candle illuminating the planes and hollows of
his face. He did not smile but motioned to her wrapper, which lay at the bottom
of the bed.
"Put that on and come
downstairs."
Isabelle swallowed at his hard,
unyielding tone. It was the voice he used to enforce his will on her body. It
meant pain and submission, and, sometimes, glorious release. She knew better
than to dawdle. She accepted his assistance to clamber over the side of the
bed. Isabelle picked up the thin silk garment and drew it over her shoulders,
tying it carefully. His hand fell on her shoulder and she shivered. His fingers
pressed down, guided her to the door, where they dropped to grasp her elbow
firmly.
"Are you frightened?" he
murmured in her ear, so close she could feel the moist heat of his breath. She
nodded. His hand moved to her breast and squeezed hard until she gasped, before
dropping to her elbow once more.
"Good."
He pulled her along the upper
corridor and then walked her, his hand hard, down the stairs, through the
silent and deserted hall, along the passage to his study. The door lay open. A
log fire crackled on the hearth. He pushed her into the room and shut the door,
turning the key in the lock.
"My dear, we have
company."
She paused. This was new. A fair
man unfolded from the wing chair where he'd sat in shadow.
"Lady Snow, a pleasure, as
always." A graceful bow.
"Mr. Frost." A curtsy was
beyond her. What was he doing here, with those cold eyes fixed on her, the thin
smile that always made her shudder?
"Brandy, Snow?"
"Yes, thank you." Snow
dropped onto the sofa and pulled her to kneel beside him. She sought her
husband's gaze for reassurance, but he was looking at the fire. Frost splashed
brandy in two glasses and brought one to Snow. He stood beside Isabelle as she
knelt, his satin breeches stretched over his swollen member. Isabelle turned
her head away. Frost grasped her chin and raised her face.
"So shy." He turned to
Snow. "I don't think she likes me.""
Snow shrugged. "That hardly
matters."
Frost laughed softly; the sound
slithered along her spine. He sat down, one leg flung over the chair arm, his
erection on blatant display.
"But, you must admit, my dear
Snow, that it does add a certain piquancy to the evening." His gaze never
left Isabelle as she huddled closer to her husband's side.
Snow tossed off the brandy. He bent
over Isabelle, unbound the tie of her wrapper and pushed it off her shoulders.
The night rail beneath was of sheerest silk. She tried to stand, intent on
fleeing. Snow pushed her slowly back to the floor. She tried to speak but he pressed
a finger to her lips
Similar Books
