Wolf Bride by Elizabeth Moss Page B

close the door and found Wolf still leaning on the threshold, looking into the bedchamber with a dry smile.
    ‘What a touching scene.’
    ‘Goodnight, my lord,’ she said, rather more sharply than she had intended, closing the door on him.
    He stuck his booted foot in the way. His blue eyes narrowed on her face. ‘Have a care, Eloise. I would not wish us to become enemies. This might not be a love match, but you agreed before the court to marry me. Or had you forgotten?’
    No, she had not forgotten. But did Wolf have to make her feel so uncomfortable? Surely it was enough that she had accepted her fate, knowing how useless it would be to fight this arranged marriage. Must he now rub her acquiescence in her face by acting the jealous husband before they were even wed?
    ‘No, my lord.’
    ‘Excellent.’ The smile returned to his eyes as he beckoned her closer. ‘Come then, and kiss your betrothed goodnight.’
    She stared, hardly able to believe he was serious.
    Wolf laid a finger on his lips. ‘Here,’ he told her softly, and waited, his blue gaze locked on hers. ‘On my mouth.’
    Hesitant, Eloise remembered how he had kissed her in the cloistered garden at court, so powerfully it had left her shaking afterwards, dazed and unsure of herself. But she would not allow this man to think her a coward.
    Leaning forward, she placed her lips against his. The contact burned, their breath mingling with the scent of wine. She felt again the lure of some passion she had yet to discover, and closed her eyes instinctively. His arm curled about her waist, pulling her close, and to her own surprise she did not resist.
    His tongue slipped between her lips, gently exploring, and her whole body jerked in heated shock at such an intimate contact. Here in the dark, on the very threshold of her bedchamber, his embrace seemed even more of a sensual promise than when he had kissed her in the palace garden.
    Still kissing her, he cupped her breast, kneading it gently through the thin fabric of her gown, then stroking his fingers back and forth until her nipple began to tingle and swell. It felt nothing like the way Simon had touched her there, and Eloise held her breath, shocked at the sudden hunger burning inside her.
    When he tugged the lacy bodice lower, exposing her breasts, the hunger became molten, coursing through her veins and setting her entire body alight. She had not thought it possible to feel more excited by a man’s touch. Then his head bent and he seized one nipple between his lips, dragging it fiercely into his mouth. Her nipple stiffened to a peak under his merciless tongue, so taut it was almost painful, yet still she did not push him away.
    Unable to help herself, Eloise made a small noise under her breath which sounded suspiciously like a moan of pleasure.
    Lord Wolf pulled back, his expression oddly tense as she opened her eyes and stared up at him.
    If his lordship had thought her unwilling before, she had just given herself away. Her lips tightened under that searching gaze. She was irritated with herself for allowing herself to be seduced, then angry with him for taking advantage of her father not being present.
    Yet to her surprise he did not kiss her again. It was almost as though he had been testing a theory rather than making a serious attempt to seduce her.
    ‘We make another early start tomorrow.’ Carefully, Wolf dragged up her bodice to cover her breasts, and left her with a curt bow. ‘Sleep well, Eloise, and sweet dreams.’

CHAPTER FOUR
    ‘I must congratulate you in your choice of bride, my lord,’ Hugh Beaufort remarked, riding ahead of the litter with Lord Wolf. ‘She is quite ravishing.’
    Wolf smiled, hearing the hesitancy in his companion’s voice. ‘But . . .?’
    ‘Very well, my lord. Though pray do not bite my head off for an honest opinion which you have solicited. Not wishing to cause you or your betrothed any offence, I admit Eloise Tyrell would not be my own first choice for a