Read Online The Right Wife by Beverly Barton - Free Book Online Page B

threaded through its thickness, loosening the tightly coiled mass, freeing it to fall about her shoulders.
    “Oh,” she gasped as one big hand encompassed the back of her head, pulling her face down next to his.
    “You’re too much woman for a man like that.” His voice was deep and low, caressing her with words. “Answer me, beautiful Maggie.”
    “I . . . I . . .” she stammered, feeling the breath from his lips touch her face. “No. I’ve not come here to marry Wesley. We’ve come to live with them in order to have a better life.”
    His lips hovered over hers, the warmth heating her mouth as he spoke. “You have a glorious mouth. The kind of mouth a man dreams about.”
    His lips touched hers, and the world began to spin around and around for Maggie as she clutched Aaron’s shoulders. Fear and longing coursed through her while he continued the gentle kiss.
    When he released her mouth and looked into her dazed eyes, she tried to speak. “Aaron . . . Mr. Stone, please.”
    “Please what, Maggie love?”
    “Please let me go. I’m not your love.”
    Observing the fear in her amber eyes, he took a deep breath and released her. “Fetch my lunch, Miss Maggie. I’ve suddenly developed a ravenous appetite.”
    Maggie straightened, turned around, and walked to the dresser where she uncovered his meal. “It looks inviting,” she said as she returned to the bed, tray in hand. “Do you need help getting back in the bed?”
    “Is it necessary for me to go back to bed?” he asked, grumbling. “I can manage the tray like this.”
    “Please.”
    “Say, ‘Please, Aaron,’ and I’ll oblige you.”
    Maggie fumed. He was the most exasperating man she had ever known. “Please, Aaron.”
    Cautiously, he eased his large body into the bed, leaving the covers wadded at the foot.
    “My arm is a bit stiff,” he said, raising it slightly while a frown appeared on his face. “See?”
    “What can I do to help, Mr. Stone?” She stood by the bed, hands demurely at her sides. She seriously considered throwing the plate in his face.
    “Aaron. Remember to call me Aaron. Now that we’re friends, you can feed me.”
    Maggie eyed him suspiciously, looking from him to the tray, and then back to him. She decided that she’d been a fool to have come, and was an even bigger fool to stay.
    “Sit down.” He patted the bed.
    Seeing no better way to accomplish the task, she obeyed, seating herself on the edge of the bed. She picked up his spoon and dipped into a portion of peas. She put the spoonful of peas into his open mouth. He began to chew slowly.
    “Hmm . . . mmm, good,” he mumbled. “More.”
    Overcoming the desire to jab him with his own fork, she complied, silently angry. Maggie fed; Aaron ate, bite by bite, mouthful by mouthful, until he’d cleaned his plate. She held a coffee cup to his lips as he drank. When she lowered the cup, he took it from her, placed it on the tray, and clasped her hand in his.
    “Thank you, Maggie.” Aaron pulled her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing the top.
    “You’re welcome, Mr. . . . Aaron.”
    “How long can you stay?”
    “I’ve stayed too long already,” she said, wishing he would release her hand so she could leave. “Mr. Coleman is waiting for me. And Daisy and your Phineas are still outside, no doubt.”
    “I don’t want you to go.” He pushed the tray to the far side of the bed and reached for Maggie. She gasped loudly when he pulled her into his arms.
    “No, Aaron. No.”
    “Yes, Maggie. Oh, yes.”
    His arms tightened about her, crushing her soft breasts against his uninjured side as he lowered his head and took her mouth with his. Gone was the tenderness of the earlier kiss, the gentleness of reason. He ravished her sweet lips. His tongue, hot and wild, circled feverishly around her closed mouth, coaxing, prizing. He caressed her back, and then grasped her hips in his big hands. He shifted her half on top of him as he forced her lips apart, whispering