Rule's Bride. Kat Martin

had a right to be, Rule supposed. The two of them were like brothers.

      But then he hadn’t told his brothers, either.

      He watched the couple on the dance floor, Luke tall and dark, Caroline small, blue-eyed and fair. They made a handsome couple, might even make a good match—except that Luke was the biggest rake in London and fiercely opposed to marriage.

      Rule inwardly sighed. Already his duties as husband were starting. He had a responsibility to his wife, but also to her family. He blew out a breath, wishing his first duty wasn’t to guard his cousin-in-law against his best friend.

       Six

      Half an hour passed. Rule decided to make a quick trip through the gaming room, see what sort of fires he might put out there, then collect his wife and go home.

      He smiled as he walked down the hall, oddly pleased by the thought. My wife. Never once had it occurred to him he might like having a woman belong to him. Still smiling, he had just turned the corner when a lady gowned in scarlet silk appeared in front of him. Evelyn Dreyer, Viscountess St. Ives.

      “Good evening, my lady,” he said to his former mistress. “You’re looking quite splendid tonight.” With her pale blond hair and amazing cheekbones, she was a beautiful woman. Rule gazed at her and thought of hair the color of flames and a pert nose dotted with intriguing little freckles.

      “I just heard the news,” Evelyn said with a viperous smile. “You are married.”

      “Yes, I am.”

      “For quite some time, I gather.”

      “Three years.” Though still not officially, since he hadn’t yet bedded his bride, but that was none of Evie’s business.

      Her mouth thinned. Before he realized her intent, her hand snaked out and connected solidly with his cheek.

      “You’re married,” she said. “How dare you!”

      Rule rubbed his cheek. “In case you have forgot, my dear, you are also married. In point of fact, your husband is currently standing in the ballroom.”

      “It is not the same thing.”

      “Indeed? The viscount might disagree.”

      “Harold is old and ugly and cannot even function while your wife is…is…”

      “Beautiful and desirable?”

      Her slender nose went into the air. “I didn’t say that.”

      “You didn’t have to marry Harold. You could have married someone else.”

      Ignoring the statement, she pinned him with a glare. “You should have told me.”

      “I should have told a lot of people. My apologies, madam.” He made her a mocking half bow. “And now, if you will excuse me…”

      Evelyn said nothing more, but her cheeks still carried an angry flush, and he could see that ending their affair had disturbed her far more than she had admitted.

      It didn’t matter.

      It wasn’t Evelyn Dreyer he wanted in his bed. It was the woman he had married.

      A jolt of desire speared through him and his shaft went hard. He wanted Violet Dewar and he meant to have her.

      It was only a matter of when.

      Violet stepped back into the shadowy alcove indented into this section of the hallway. Her heart was beating, thrumming like a bird trapped in her chest.

      She had been on her way to the ladies’ retiring room when she spotted Rule in the corridor in conversation with a woman. She was tall and statuesque with high, carved cheekbones and a lush bosom no man could miss. Her eyes were dark, her lips full and red. She appeared to be several years older than Violet and she was beautiful. Violet couldn’t hear the conversation, but clearly the woman was angry.

      She took a deep breath. Setting a hand over her heart, she willed it to slow. She knew exactly who the lady was, the only person it could be.

      She recalled the most recent conversation she had overheard in the ballroom.

      “You don’t suppose his marriage has anything to do with his mistress, Lady St. Ives? I heard they parted on very bad terms. Perhaps he married the chit out of spite.”

      He hadn’t, of course. He had married her for money and power, not vengeance.

      She thought again of the beautiful Lady St. Ives. Violet wasn’t surprised to learn Rule had kept a mistress. Most married men did.

      And in truth, as he had said, they were not, in the strictest sense, actually married.

      Still, it bothered her. She didn’t like to think of him kissing the blonde, doing more than kissing.

      I will show you what is more than kissing, he had said, almost as if it were a vow.

      She drew in a shuddering breath. The man is a rogue of the very worst sort, she reminded herself, but she couldn’t get that kiss out of her head.

      Checking to be certain the pair no longer stood in the hallway, Violet continued on to the ladies’ room. She was on her way back, nearing the alcove she had hidden in before when she heard Rule calling her name, and a little shiver went through her.

      “There you are. I’ve been looking all over.”

      She thought of the elegant blonde. “Have you? I thought perhaps you were looking for someone else. Lady St. Ives, perhaps?”

      He frowned. “So you’ve heard. I imagined you would, sooner or later.”

      “Actually, I saw the two of you together in the hall.”

      He glanced away, released a weary breath. “I won’t lie to you, Violet. I’m a man and a man has needs. The affair is over. Has been for some time. I have no interest in Evelyn Dreyer and won’t anytime in the future.”

      She pondered the words, wondered if they were true. “I see.”

      “I hope you do.”

      Her eyes widened as he began to ease her backward into the alcove. His arms came around her, drawing her close, and his mouth came down over hers.

      It wasn’t the same gentle kiss as before. It was a hot, taking ravishment so powerful it made her dizzy. Her fingers curled into the muscles across his wide shoulders. Her mouth parted under his fierce assault and his tongue slid over hers.

      Violet made a little mewling sound and simply clung to him, swamped with sensation and completely unable to think. He tasted of brandy and she could smell his spicy cologne. Her body was thrumming, pulsing. Every feminine part of her ached with the need for more of what he offered.

      Rule finally ended the kiss, but kept an arm around her as if he knew he had left her weak in the knees.

      He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. “God, I want you.”

      Violet stood there trembling. “You…you can’t keep doing that.”

      “Kissing you? I’m your husband. I can kiss you whenever I wish, and furthermore, I intend to do it every chance I get.”

      “But…but…”

      “You gave me thirty days to convince you. That is what I am doing—convincing you.”

      “But I can’t just…You can’t just…We can’t just…”

      “Yes, we can. Come along, sweet wife. Let us collect your cousin. It is past time we went home.”

      Violet swallowed, but she didn’t argue. She had mistakenly thought she would be safe from Rule at a very large, well-attended ball.

      She had just discovered there was no place she was safe from Rule Dewar.

      Violet