His Perfect Bride(57)

"I said go away, Ashley. I already told you, I don't wish to talk about  it." Brianna's muffled voice came through the door. So the governess had  been lying, but why? Since there was obviously a motive, he knocked  again. "Please," Brianna begged, her voice full of pain. "You don't  understand how hard it is to live like this."

Richard reeled back as if he had been struck. Had he really made life  that difficult for her? Although he knew he had been harsh, he had  believed he was doing the right thing, but now he was not so sure.  Brianna became so important to him that allowing her to endure this  misery was unacceptable. He needed to do something to right the wrong.

"Do you want to know what the worst part is?" her tearful voice  continued. "I have not only lost my inspiration to paint, but I have  lost my desire to."

His mouth fell open. Painting had always been a large part of her life,  and he could not imagine her ceasing the activity. With her simple  words, he felt his heart break, and he staggered backwards.

Brianna, his wife, sat in there hurting because of him. He hesitated,  realizing he could finally put a name to the feelings he had been  experiencing. Although a foreign thought, he was not surprised. He loved  Brianna. He had no trouble admitting it now while enduring the proof  stabbing through his chest.



He straightened. He had to fix this. He had to remove her pain and once he had, his would be alleviated as well.

Thinking over her actions and requests this past month, he realized she  didn't want anything too outlandish. Neither could they be overly  harmful to his reputation or hers. Although still greatly concerned over  her well-being, he understood he had reached a point where he would  have to trust her judgment.

The image of his perfect bride that had been the driving force in his  decisions regarding his wife melted away and was replaced with the  perfect image of Brianna. He would no longer force her to become  something she was not, for the woman he'd fallen in love with was ideal  just the way she was.

As he stumbled into his bedchamber, and then to the door leading to the  marchioness bedchamber, he felt his overwhelming love for Brianna  filling him, propelling him forward. Opening the door, he saw his wife  seated on the edge of the bed with her face in her hands. Without  hesitation, he rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms.

"Oh, Brianna, I'm so sorry," he said softly.

"What are you doing here? You should not see me like this," she cried and buried her face into his chest.

"You are wrong. I should be forced to see the effects of my decisions."

She went silent for a moment and then spoke in a muffled voice filled  with misery. "I just don't understand why you don't trust me. When have I  proven myself to be so untrustworthy?"

"Never. It's not that I don't trust you, but rather everyone else around  you. I worry over your safety, but I now understand what I have been  doing to you," he admitted, then tilted her face back so he could look  into her eyes. "I'm no longer going to try to change you or your nature.  From this day onward, you will have more freedom, my love."



The sadness drained from her face, replaced by unadulterated joy.  "Really? You will grant me the use of the carriage? Without my having to  ask for permission?"

Richard nodded and cupped her face. "Yes, my love."

"And walks through the estate, will I still be required to bring Maude along with me everywhere?"         

     



 

"Only if you chose to invite her. I will leave the decision up to you."

"Why?" she asked with a slight frown. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Because I love you." He waited for the words to sink in before he  continued. "I fell in love with you just the way you are. You are  perfect, and I love you more than I can say," Richard rasped

"Though I can't always promise to obey you, I do promise not to  embarrass you, and I will never endanger myself or our child." Her voice  grew thick with emotion. "I love you, too. You make me feel safe, cared  for, and, until most recently, you allowed me to be myself. Hearing you  say I may do so again is like painting a rainbow."

The beautiful words resounded through his body, giving him more pleasure  than he thought possible. Bending his head down, he captured her lips.

As he pulled her tighter against him, he was grateful the door remained  locked. The only thing he cared about now was Brianna. Their guests and  the hunt no longer mattered. Desperate to prove his overwhelming love to  his wife, he brought her down on the bed, intending to make this moment  memorable for both of them.





A Preview from the next book in the Perfect Series: His Perfect Game



Greyson Thorpe, Viscount Merrick, gritted his teeth as perspiration  dripped down his face. This was it: The game he had been waiting for.  After months of preparation and endless plans, everything rested on this  one moment, on this one hand. Piercing his opponent with a steely gaze,  Greyson reveled in the man's discomfort.

Hammond Everett, Duke of Donetic, had something Greyson wanted, and he  would do anything in his power to obtain it. The stakes in this game  were higher than Greyson could afford to lose, and he didn't refer to  the paltry funds scattered about the gaming table. They didn't amount to  anything compared to the vast fortune he had amassed from his luck at  cards.

The duke shuffled his cards again. Although his face remained masked,  his fingers shook and his Adam's apple bobbed, betraying his true state.  He presented the sight of a man who lacked faith in himself. Greyson  could not have asked for a better display.

Slicing his gaze to his own hand, the cards neither assured his victory  nor elicited distress. Normally, overconfidence served as his gambling  companion, but tonight it eluded him.

"Place your final bets," Andrews commanded, signaling that the end drew near.

"Hauney is a sizable estate and has always managed to run on its own  income." The duke's wager, no doubt, was meant to prove his assurance in  his abilities.

Greyson froze. Could the duke be bluffing, or had he lost? He could not bring himself to believe it was over.

"Very good, Your Grace." Andrews accepted the paper. "Lord Merrick, your counter?"



"Ambliet will do. It's equal in size and fortune." Greyson's attention slid back to his opponent. "I also wager Merrick."

The duke's eyes widened before he regained control of his reaction.  Greyson didn't change his expression nor did he lower his gaze. He knew  the only other estate owned by the duke was Donetic. Judging by his  narrowed eyes and thin lips, he would not back down.

"I accept and add Donetic. I suppose the outcome of the game will see one of us ruined."

Greyson inclined his head, biting back the response that these two  estates were not his only holdings. Instead, he silently accepted his  final cards from Andrews. Desperate to learn his fate, he glanced down  at his hand. His heart accelerated and his stomach clenched, but he  showed no outward sign of his reaction.

With an arrogant smile, the duke waved his free hand forward, indicating  he expected Greyson to tip his hand first. Without removing his eyes  from the duke's face, Greyson placed his cards face up on the table. One  second passed before the duke's face fell, and he slammed his cards  down.

After years of masking his reactions, Greyson had no trouble containing  outward signs of his relief. The moment felt surreal. He finally held  the means to obtain something more valuable to him than all the estates  in England.

"You are a-a cheat," the duke sputtered, his face red. "The odds of you drawing a better hand than mine are too great."

Greyson gripped the arms of the chair with more force than it deserved.  Although familiar with this reaction from his opponents, countering in  his usual manner would not serve him. He needed to remain calm.

Glancing at Andrews, he noticed the man had moved back several paces and  eyed him warily. As most of the employees were aware, being called a  cheat was the one insult Greyson could not abide.



Refusing to be baited, he turned his attention to the table and pocketed  his winnings. As he lazily turned his gaze back to the duke's now  purple face, he fingered his brandy glass.         

     



 

"In a room with this many patrons, I can't believe you would make such a claim," Greyson replied, lifting the glass to his lips.

"It's possible."

"Are you challenging me?" Greyson's voice shook, unable to disguise the depth of his rage.

"I have nothing to lose. You have drained my coffers and taken my estates."

The matter-of-fact response helped Greyson regain control of his anger.

"Don't be too hasty in declaring your ruin. Allow me to buy you a drink. Then we can discuss this civilly."

"I don't have anything more to add." The duke crossed his arms as if daring Greyson to refute him.