Read Online The Unintended Bride by Kelly McClymer - Free Book Online
Authors: Kelly McClymer
Tags: Fiction
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take hold and tried to fight it.
"True. I should have known it was a hoax." He took her hand again, and their eyes met as he felt her tremors. He pulled her to him, holding her tight, until her shivers stopped. "And now I've involved you in a foolish mess."
He had called her Hero. Easily, as if it were the name he used for her in his private thoughts. Not that she would bring it to his attention now. He might let her go, and that she did not want. "Nonsense, you did what any good man on a quest would do — you followed your instincts and checked up on a lead that was slightly improbable but not outright foolish."
"Digby shall never know of this, Hero. I promise you on my honor that I will get us out of here with no one the wiser."
"Nor shall Gwen hear of it from my lips," she promised in return, though in truth she could not care about Digby or Gwen. He had used her given name. Again. If he had realized what he called her, he would have been appalled, he would have apologized. She knew it meant nothing. He was distraught. He was confounded. He had called her by her name, and it sounded so right from his lips, she dared not look at him too long for fear that he would see and understand how she felt about him. Instead, she stood in the circle of his arms until, at last, he set her aside.
"There must be a solution to this puzzle, and I shall find it," he vowed, as he paced around the tiny room. He ruffled his hands through his hair until it was so untidy there were wisps that actually stood straight up. She had a strong desire to run her fingers through the locks to calm them. But she did nothing of the sort.
She must not think about his slip of the tongue. Must not think it meant anything at all. If she was not careful, she would say something she would regret forever. She needed a distraction from the sight of him. The thought of him in the library in his shirtsleeves, his hair touseled as it was now.
She began to browse the shelves that lined the tiny room. There were large and small books, seemingly all on one subject, judging by the way Mr. Beasley had organized them. She was grateful that they had not been locked into an empty attic room — with nothing to look at but themselves. Though she wouldn't have minded looking at Arthur for hours at a time, she was afraid if she did, he would see through to her heart.
She put on her spectacles to look more closely at the books on the shelves. Oddly enough, many had no titles visible on the spines. The other titles were not ones she recognized. She chose a few at random and began to leaf through the pages rapidly. Some were illustrated as well, she realized.
Several were even illustrated in hand-painted color, she noticed as she chose one book and opened it idly to thumb through it more carefully. And then one illustration in particular captured her attention. She gasped. "Oh, my."
The book would have slipped from her fingers to the floor if Arthur had not caught it. His expression grew horrified and then quickly blank as he, too, saw the drawing on the page that had made her fingers lose grip. "I did not know Beasley sold books like this," he said sharply, without looking at her, as he replaced the book on the shelf.
"I didn't know there were books like that," Hero replied shakily. The illustration was burned into her brain. A man and woman. Undressed. In each other's arms. She looked at the walls and their shelves of books. Were they all like this one? Curious, she took another from the shelf and flipped it open. Yes. This illustration was not in color, but the india-ink sketch left no detail to the imagination.
If Miranda had not already been quite clear and explicit about what happened between men and women when they married, this sketch might have sent her into hysterics. She snapped the book shut, remembering Miranda had promised that though it sounded awkward and painful, it wasn't. For one moment, though, she found herself doubting her normally truthful
"True. I should have known it was a hoax." He took her hand again, and their eyes met as he felt her tremors. He pulled her to him, holding her tight, until her shivers stopped. "And now I've involved you in a foolish mess."
He had called her Hero. Easily, as if it were the name he used for her in his private thoughts. Not that she would bring it to his attention now. He might let her go, and that she did not want. "Nonsense, you did what any good man on a quest would do — you followed your instincts and checked up on a lead that was slightly improbable but not outright foolish."
"Digby shall never know of this, Hero. I promise you on my honor that I will get us out of here with no one the wiser."
"Nor shall Gwen hear of it from my lips," she promised in return, though in truth she could not care about Digby or Gwen. He had used her given name. Again. If he had realized what he called her, he would have been appalled, he would have apologized. She knew it meant nothing. He was distraught. He was confounded. He had called her by her name, and it sounded so right from his lips, she dared not look at him too long for fear that he would see and understand how she felt about him. Instead, she stood in the circle of his arms until, at last, he set her aside.
"There must be a solution to this puzzle, and I shall find it," he vowed, as he paced around the tiny room. He ruffled his hands through his hair until it was so untidy there were wisps that actually stood straight up. She had a strong desire to run her fingers through the locks to calm them. But she did nothing of the sort.
She must not think about his slip of the tongue. Must not think it meant anything at all. If she was not careful, she would say something she would regret forever. She needed a distraction from the sight of him. The thought of him in the library in his shirtsleeves, his hair touseled as it was now.
She began to browse the shelves that lined the tiny room. There were large and small books, seemingly all on one subject, judging by the way Mr. Beasley had organized them. She was grateful that they had not been locked into an empty attic room — with nothing to look at but themselves. Though she wouldn't have minded looking at Arthur for hours at a time, she was afraid if she did, he would see through to her heart.
She put on her spectacles to look more closely at the books on the shelves. Oddly enough, many had no titles visible on the spines. The other titles were not ones she recognized. She chose a few at random and began to leaf through the pages rapidly. Some were illustrated as well, she realized.
Several were even illustrated in hand-painted color, she noticed as she chose one book and opened it idly to thumb through it more carefully. And then one illustration in particular captured her attention. She gasped. "Oh, my."
The book would have slipped from her fingers to the floor if Arthur had not caught it. His expression grew horrified and then quickly blank as he, too, saw the drawing on the page that had made her fingers lose grip. "I did not know Beasley sold books like this," he said sharply, without looking at her, as he replaced the book on the shelf.
"I didn't know there were books like that," Hero replied shakily. The illustration was burned into her brain. A man and woman. Undressed. In each other's arms. She looked at the walls and their shelves of books. Were they all like this one? Curious, she took another from the shelf and flipped it open. Yes. This illustration was not in color, but the india-ink sketch left no detail to the imagination.
If Miranda had not already been quite clear and explicit about what happened between men and women when they married, this sketch might have sent her into hysterics. She snapped the book shut, remembering Miranda had promised that though it sounded awkward and painful, it wasn't. For one moment, though, she found herself doubting her normally truthful
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