Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
I love him. I’m with him because I love him.
He quelled the urge to smash something, knowing that unleashing his rage would not help the situation. It wouldn’t make the tabloids stop spreading lies about him, wouldn’t stop the masses from talking trash about the most important woman in his life.
How could someone so young be so damn strong, Rathe thought bleakly. Even though Mary had switched her iPad’s display off, Rathe had still been able to hear what everyone was saying about them. About her. Even hearing all that, how could she still love him?
The betrothal ring inside his pocket suddenly weighed like a ton. He had taken it out of the safe the first night they came back to England, but he had never gotten around to giving it to Mary.
Rathe’s lips twisted.
No, that wasn’t quite right. The damn truth was, he still wasn’t sure if it was right to tie Mary to him that way.
His hand slipped inside his pocket, his fingers tightening around the ring. What the fuck was the right thing to do? Chain her to him...or let her go?
Chapter Two
Eldrige and Meredith Townsend, the Viscount and Viscountess of Waverly. She closed her eyes, repeating the names and title several times in her mind while trying to commit their faces to memory. Bald guy, woman with a mole on the right cheek.
Mary moved to the next name, her brows furrowing when she realized how far she still had to go. The sun was setting down, the sky already a dark shade of orange but she was nowhere near to clearing her list halfway. It was unfortunate, the way her mind appeared to have more difficulties remembering the names and titles of the peerage compared to memorizing the periodic table.
Forcing herself to concentrate, she brought her list up to her eyes.
Jason and Noreen Adley, the Marquis and Marchioness of Rockwell. Adjusting her glasses, she stared hard at their photos. Tall, lanky guy, tall lanky woman. A match made in heaven.
She closed her eyes, repeating their names over and over before flipping to the next page. And so it went on, and she was already on the fifth page when the sound of galloping hooves reached her.
By the time she lifted her head, Rathe was a few feet away, seated astride his favorite stallion.
Viking was the largest Thoroughbred she had ever seen, but it was the sight of the duke that mesmerized her into speechlessness. She couldn’t help smiling when she observed Rathe’s d oh-so-proper attire for riding, with his white long-sleeved shirt, tan-colored breeches, and field boots. For most men, shirts and jeans would have sufficed. But then, Rathe was not like most men.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Rathe said as he and Viking came to a halt in front of her.
Her cheeks dimpled. “G-good. Maybe it made you realize you l-love me?”
Rathe grimaced, but his eyes had a rare, tender light to them, one Mary knew he only reserved for her. She cherished those looks. As long as he could look only at her like that, she knew she had a chance.
Jumping off Viking’s back, Rathe gave the stallion a brisk, affectionate rub before letting his ride go.
Turning to her, he raised a brow.
By now, she knew what that meant and her smile widening, she raised her skirts and threw herself at him.
He caught her easily, his strength undeniable. Her legs wrapped around his waist as his head slanted over hers, his mouth taking hers in an unashamedly passionate kiss.
“I missed you, little pearl.” His English accent was so much more pronounced as he whispered the words against the lips, making Mary shiver with heightened awareness.
Her arms tightened around his neck as she returned his kiss, reveling in Rathe’s desire for her. Moments like this made her wonder dizzily how anyone could ever think of Rathe Wellesley as a cold fish. He was anything but, not with the way his tongue boldly conquered every inch of her mouth, not with the way his huge erection throbbed almost violently against her belly.
Her duke was just a very private man, one who allowed only those closest to him a glimpse of his true self. And, Mary thought faintly, she kind of liked it that way.
When he pulled away, she mumbled back, “I m-missed you, too.”
His lips curved. “Even after all this time, you’re still shy with me?”
She made a face. “You don’t understand.” Mary touched his face, the graze of her fingers against his cheek soft and tantalizing. “You’re you, and I’m...me. Ordinary. I don’t think I’ll e-ever stop b-being tongue-tied around you.”
Her words tugged at his chest, making it tighten. If it had been any other woman, Rathe would have no problem disregarding it as empty flattery. But this was Mary. The shyest person he knew and yet, with him, Rathe knew she did her very best to overcome her inhibitions.