Read Online Teresa Medeiros - [FairyTale 02] by The Bride, the Beast - Free Book Online Page A

perhaps I’m simply an opportunistic devil who bought a drink for some pathetic old Highlander in a run-down tavern somewhere. Perhaps he spilled all of Ballybliss’s secrets in my ear, including the morsel that someone inyour village might be hoarding the thousand pounds they earned for betraying their chieftain. Perhaps he even told me that the badge of the MacCullough clan was a flame-breathing dragon.”
    “Perhaps he did,” Gwendolyn agreed, wanting desperately to believe him. “After all, no one blathers more than a drunken Highlander.”
    “You’ve never seen Tupper after a few glasses of port.”
    “Nor do I care to. Which is one of many reasons why I want you to let me go.”
    “So we’re back to that, are we? “
    An image of Papa’s face, crumpled with confusion as he wondered why she hadn’t come to dress him and feed him his porridge, drifted into Gwendolyn’s head. “What of my family? Have you no regard for their feelings? Would you have them think I was dead?”
    A disarming note of anger edged his voice. “Where was your precious family when that mob of savages made off with you?”
    Tucked in their beds with a warm brick wrapped in flannel. Thanking her for her noble sacrifice. Promising to have their lovers write songs in her honor. Vowing never to forget her. Gwendolyn swallowed, her silence condemnation enough.
    “Just as I thought,” he said. “The way I see it, you’re safer in my hands than in theirs.”
    Now that, Gwendolyn thought, was the greatest lie he had told. “What if I promised not to expose your little charade?”
    She was unprepared for the sweet shock of his fingers cupping her cheek. “You’d be lying.”
    As he stroked his thumb across her bottom lip, she closed her eyes beneath the blindfold, seeking to deny the melting effect of his touch.
    “Couldn’t you pretend to believe me? “ she whispered. “ I can be very convincing.”
    “I’m sure you can,” he murmured. “But I haven’t trusted anyone for a very long time, and something tells me I’d be a bloody fool to start with you.” He drew away, the clipped formality returning to his voice. “If you’ll promise not to render him unconscious, I’ll send Tupper up with more breakfast. Will there be anything else you require during your stay?”
    Gwendolyn surged to her feet. She cast one corner of the sheet over her shoulder and thrust her chin toward the general direction of his last comment. “There will be much I require. I strongly suggest that you double your demands for food. As you can see by my appearance, I am a woman of hearty appetites, and I shall expect them to be well satisfied.”
    He seemed to have something stuck in his throat, making his reply sound choked. “I’ll consider it my privilege. I just hope you’ll find me up to the task.”
    “And surely you can’t expect me to spend the remainder of my incarceration garbed in this—this— rag.” He didn’t have to know that the cool satin felt like bliss against her bare skin compared with the scratchy wool she usually wore.
    “Most certainly not. You can remove it anytime you like.”
    “And I shall also require some amusements to brighten the long hours. I prefer the stimulation of books to the tedium of needlework. Dozens of them. I’ve been known to devour two or three a day.”
    “Ah, so we return to your hearty appetites.”
    If she hadn’t believed he’d have her hands bound before she could get them to her face, Gwendolyn would have jerked off the blindfold purely for the satisfaction of shooting him a venomous look.
    “Will there be anything else, Miss Wilder?” he asked. “I could arrange for some musical entertainment. A quartet of string musicians fresh from their triumphant performance at Vauxhall Gardens, perhaps?”
    “I don’t believe I’ll be needing anything else.” She waited until she heard him moving toward the panel before spitefully adding, “Yet.”
    Gwendolyn sank toward the thronelike bed,