Read Online The Bride Behind the Curtain by Darcie Wilde - Free Book Online Page A

on opposite sides of the long table, before he pulled out Adele’s chair for her.
    But she made no move to sit. “Aren’t you hungry, Monsieur Beauclaire?”
    â€œStarved, actually,” he admitted.
    â€œThen you must help yourself. I’m your hostess this morning, after all,” she added. “I can’t allow a guest to go hungry.”
    â€œBut it would be rude of me to feast when you are clearly fasting.” He waved toward her lonely roll.
    â€œOh no, no. I’m simply not hungry.”
    â€œBut your eyes betray you, Lady Adele.” He let himself smile, slowly. His fingers itched to touch her chin, to lift her reluctant gaze to his. But even were that much permitted, he knew he would not stop with so simple a touch. “Your eyes stray toward the cake and the coddled eggs. You are enticed. Possibly even entranced.”
    â€œThey do not. And I am not.”
    â€œLady Adele,” he said sternly. “Do you perhaps take me for one of those monsters who prefers to see a girl patiently starve rather than have her enjoy herself in my company?”
    â€œYou make breakfast sound like a dalliance.”
    â€œDo I? How shocking of me. But the facts remain.” He folded his arms. “Either we will feast together, or we fast together. Which is it to be?”
    â€œOh. Well. Perhaps I will have a slice of the ham.”
    â€œIt looks very fine.” He laid one of the thick slices onto a fresh plate. “And this sauce.” He poured a healthy dollop over the salted meat. “It’s unusual to find such an excellent sauce in England.”
    â€œOur cook is French.”
    â€œThat explains it. Now, as to the walnut cake . . .”
    â€œOh, I couldn’t.”
    He sighed and laid down the server. “Then I can’t, either. More’s the pity.”
    She frowned, and for a moment he saw a flash of her real spirit. “How long are you going to play this game?”
    â€œUntil I see you with a meal you will actually enjoy, Lady Adele.”
    â€œWhy do you care?” She blurted the words out and instantly regretted them. That, decided James, would not do at all.
    â€œBecause I like your smile,” he answered her, simply and directly. “And I like your eyes. I suspect they shine when you are happy. I’d like to find out if I’m right.” He slowly cut out a slice of cake and laid it onto her plate and favored her with his most sultry smile.
    The results were not as he might have hoped. Instead of smiling and blushing and allowing him to see that bright shine in her eyes about which he fantasized, she turned her face away. “Lady Adele?”
    She did not turn around. Her back had stiffened, but if it was in anger or determination, he could not tell.
    â€œYou don’t have to be nice to me, Monsieur Beauclaire,” she said. It was anger. No. It was rage, quiet, suppressed, but very real.
    â€œ
Pardon
?” he whispered.
    â€œFlirting with me won’t help you win Patience. My sister doesn’t care for my opinion or my feelings.”
    Of course. Of course that was it. She thought he paid her court in order to gain a good opinion that he could use to advantage with Lady Patience. And why shouldn’t she? What reason had he yet given her to believe otherwise?
    At last she did turn. That rage blazed in her deep eyes, burning away all trace of her earlier bashfulness. She lifted her chin and waited for his answer, imperious and certain she was in possession of the truth.
    He should have been angry at her dismissal of his motives, but anger fled him as he gazed into her eyes. Did he think that a man might drown in those eyes? He was drowning now. But her eyes were no more dangerously, magnificently alluring than her full mouth and soft, pale skin. He was standing too close. She was shivering inside her overly elaborate morning dress. Shivering because his nearness affected her, as it had