Page 75 of Bride By Mistake
He’d managed to swallow the most hurtful words, but sensitized to him as she was, she’d felt his rage. It radiated off him, as tangible as heat, as scathing as ice.
She’d opened herself up to him, heart, body, and soul, and then, when she was at her most exposed and vulnerable—
“Would you like a cake?” Luke asked, pointing to a cake seller passing with a tray of wares.
Bella shook her head. “No, thank you.” They continued on through the market.
No sign of that rage now. He’d harnessed it, buried it, hidden it behind a layer of gentlemanly politeness. Putting the best face on it. Even his vow to seduce her was a way of making up for the previous night. Kind and thoughtful, despite everything—and that threatened to unravel her, too.
She should be grateful for it. She was. It was just…
Bella Ripton, building castles in the air again. And if he happened to knock this one down—which of course he would—fool that she was, she would probably start building another.
But it was time to grow up, time to stop dreaming impossible dreams.
A crate of puppies caught her eye. Three soft, caramel fluffy ones and a small brindle mutt with a squashed-in face, lopsided ears, and a patch over one eye. “Hello, little pirate,” she said and bent to pat him.
“Don’t even think about it,” Luke told her. “You can’t take a puppy to England with you. Besides it’s an ugly little mutt.”
“I know, but so sweet-natured.” The puppy blissfully wiggled his soft little body, wagging his tail and licking her fingers with frantic excitement. So loving; so eager to be loved. She gave him one last pat. “Good luck, little fellow. I hope you find someone to love you.” They moved on through the market.
Most marriages had nothing to do with love. They were practical arrangements, alliances of family, a consolidation of wealth. And for children.
Bella needed to do what her husband had done; accept an unsatisfactory situation and make the best of it. And she would. She had every intention of making this a good marriage, to make him—and herself—happy.
She stepped back to let a couple with three children pass, two little girls and a boy. The children were dressed in their Sunday best, their hair newly washed and shining. The father carried the littlest girl on his shoulders, not seeming to mind the small fists clenched in his thinning hair.
Yes, she would build a family with Luke Ripton, and they would be happy, like that family, and would love their children. And that would be enough. She would make it be enough.
But first she needed to find a way to go on, to give herself to him night after night, and somehow protect her reckless, tender heart from the knowledge of his indifference. She’d be a fool to keep opening herself to that kind of hurt, and there was no denying the man had the power to hurt her.
It wasn’t Luke’s fault, she acknowledged. He’d never pretended to love her, never suggested there was even a possibility. It was all her own doing. Spinning dreams out of straw.
She bent to look at a crate of chickens, brown and glossy, clucking vigorously.
She’d read too much significance into him coming after her, worrying about her safety. Imagining he cared. It was obedience he cared about. He’d been an officer. A wife could not be allowed to disobey.
And that lesson in front of the looking glass… For the first time in her life she felt special, feminine, almost pretty. She’d misread that, too. It was obedience again. She was not to wear breeches.
And the lovemaking… The man kissed like a dream… made her feel things she never imagined were possible. But it was just something she had to get used to. She had to learn to give herself without craving more, to enjoy what was offered—his body, not his heart.And not feel shattered and empty afterward.
She could do it, she was sure. It was simply a matter of becoming accustomed to him, to his shaved-to-the-bone good looks, to that slow, glinting smile that caused her heart to flutter. Every single time.
“Watch out,” he murmured in her ear and held her back as a donkey piled high with rolled-up carpets was led through the crowd.
She would get used to the dark rumble of his deep voice, she told herself. Eventually it would not send a warm, delicious shiver through to her bones. And his protectiveness was his husbandly duty. Just because it made her feel warm and safe and… cherished didn’t mean he loved her. It was the novelty of it, that was all, she told herself firmly.
She watched him cleave a path through the crowd, tall, unconsciously arrogant,oblivious of all the looks and sighs he was getting from the women and girls he passed. Bella was far from unaware. It would be her lot in life, to watch other women desiring her husband. And he wasn’t even trying.
He even fascinated the little ones. In front of them a woman carried a tiny girl with dark curls and huge brown eyes. The child watched Luke solemnly over her mother’s shoulder. Bella glanced at him to see if he’d noticed.
His expression was as stern and graven-angel as ever, and for a moment she thought he hadn’t noticed the child, but then she saw one dark blue eye drop in a slow, deliberate wink. The little girl stared. And then tried to wink back. She blinked both eyes. Luke winked the other eye. The little girl’s face screwed up as she tried to copy him. She squeezed both eyes shut then pushed one eye open with her fingers.
Luke chuckled. The little girl kicked off her shoe, and before Bella could move, Luke picked it up and fitted it matter-of-factly on the child’s foot. Her mother thanked him effusively, as charmed by him as her daughter was.
Bella watched, her heart awash with love. That was the trouble. There was no resisting the man.
A fist closed around her heart. How could she bear it, loving him so much and receiving only kindness in return?
