A Promise of More by Bronwen Evans Page A

going to win—could win. He always knew that when he married, love would never enter the equation. What he hadn’t foreseen was that desire and passion would be part of his marriage, for he had always planned to marry a woman who was plain in looks and compliant in nature. The woman walking beside him was neither of these.
    Best-laid plans …
    Just then he felt a quiver in her grip on his arm. A sudden stab of conscience hit him. Though he was looking forward to having Beatrice in his bed, he knew that it would be an awkward situation for her. How would she feel having to give herself to the man who had killed her brother?
    He had no intention of forcing her to share his bed. He had never forced a woman before, and he much preferred his bed partner to enjoy mutual passion. After what he had done to Doogie, he didn’t relish having to force himself on his sister. Seduction was his weapon of choice.
    His body began to hum at the idea of a challenge. What would it be like to seduce a woman who disliked him so much? A man of his experience was up to such a challenge. If he was patient, her surrender would be all the more sweeter.
    Her surrender was what he would focus on rather than the fact that he was now married.
    He wanted her willing. He wanted her pale, perfect body, hot and wanton beneath him. He wanted to hear his name tremble on her lips. He wanted her!
    And that thought frightened him to death.

    When Beatrice heard Sebastian intended for them to leave the city that very day, she had assumed they would be going north to his estate near York, so that he could abandon her there and return to his life. So she was quite surprised when she heard they were going south to Dorset, to the Earl of Markham’s estate.
    They were traveling in Sebastian’s well-sprung traveling coach, and she allowed herself to relax against the velvet swabs. However, several hours of enforcedintimacy with Sebastian, her husband, had taken a toll on her nerves.
    They had spoken little on the journey south from London. Sebastian seemed to be deep in thought and she sensed his need for silence and readily complied. What did she have to say to a man like Lord Coldhurst? It was obvious he regretted their marriage. She must be a disappointment to him. He would have had his choice of women to wed, a stunning, graceful, compliant beauty to bear his children and rule his home.
    A woman so far removed from her, he couldn’t be anything but bitter.
    Beatrice turned her head to observe her traveling companion. He was staring out the window at the passing landscape, engaged in his own private thoughts. Her breath hitched slightly as she regarded him closely. His handsome, noble profile had the power to make her heart flutter, reminding her once again that she was out of her element in dealing with him.
    She should hate him, but for some reason, perhaps because he’d been nothing but courteous so far, she couldn’t hold on to her hate. His stunning countenance set her on edge, but she couldn’t let herself feel anything for him. He’d been perfectly clear on the terms of their marriage, and she’d agreed. She would not ask for, nor expect, more.
    Did she regret her outrageous proposal? No. She had no illusions about what this marriage would be like. He would carry on his life as per usual and expect her to provide him with children and nothing else.
    Part of her wanted to strike back at the man who had killed her brother, and Beatrice knew she could make this marriage a misery for him, perhaps henpeck him to death. The gossips were correct, she had henpecked her brother, but with good cause. She could do the same to Sebastian. A shiver ran over her skin. He would not find her the submissive puppet he thought her to be, but deep down inside she understood a man like Sebastian would not be as easy to control, nor as forgiving of her interference, as her brother.
    She watched him with unfettered curiosity. To her surprise, Sebastian became more agitated