A Forbidden Love Read Free Page B

alone, meditating on the secluded arched bridge, shadowed by the budding vines of weeping willows. He propped his elbows against the wide stone ledge and gazed below at the pristine waters, prattling in compliment to the lively twitter of nature’s most vocal creatures.
    An ash-blond curl slipped over his eye and he brushed the wayward lock aside. With the house in an abhorrent state of uproar, he had taken to the shelter of the trees for repose. But it appeared as though the whole of the property was abuzz with his sister’s upcoming ball, for even the woodland critters seemed uncommonly garrulous.
    Anthony was beginning to suspect that there was shrinking space in this world where a man could seek refuge from a throng of marriage-minded ladies. His sister’s spectacular event was going to beckon to the fore every eligible miss in the county. Every aspiring maid in search of a mate was going to come calling—and casting nets. But Anthony was determined no woman would snare him as her husband just yet. Marriage was such a sorry state to be reduced to. One had the added burden of a family to attend to, and then there was the whole problematic arrangement of an affair, which could no longer be pursued under one’s own roof with a wife fussing about. It was all one miserable business, and were he not in need of an heir, he’d never succumb to such a suffocating fate.
    Cecelia’s extravaganza was a sour reminder of just how horrid his fate would be. Really, what mayhem! It was all nonsensical, the hoopla and dramatics to snag oneself a husband. But, then again, it was likely the mayhem that first attracted young ladies to the idea of matrimony, rather than the thought of an actual husband. He was apt to think that was the case with Cecelia at least. Anthony already pitied the poor bloke his baby sister was going to set her cap on, and he was thankful to be spared from a similar fate for another decade or two—though when his time to be leg-shackled finally rolled around, he thought with a slow-forming smile, he was greatly going to enjoy giving in to all the flirtatious charms of the female sex.
    His musings interrupted, Anthony noticed a kerchief float by, decked in an array of lively colors.
    He quirked a brow, and walked over to the other side of the bridge, in time to catch the brightly dyed cloth pass under the arched structure and continue to be washed away downstream.
    A little out of the ordinary, to be sure, but nothing abnormal, or so he tried to convince himself. Despite that sound assessment, curiosity took root, and with a brisk walk in mind, he traversed the bridge and meandered along the shoreline, traveling against the current.
    Minutes passed. Ducking the occasional straggling branch, clawing at his hair and clothes, he followed the windings of the stream until untamed waters morphed into a tender prattle, no more than a few inches deep. Climbing up a slight embankment, he turned the bend and paused.
    Poised on a rock, her bare feet immersed in the icy stream, her willowy fingers combing through the long, wet strands of her ebony hair, sat a legendary nymph.
    A raffish grin tugged at the corners of Anthony’s lips. Here was the very reason why he had such a feeble disposition toward the fairer sex. Who in their right mind could resist such an unearthly being?
    Folding his arms, he slumped a large shoulder against a tree, and with an admiring glint in his eye, studied the bathing creature in idle appraisal. The nymph’s goose-fleshed skin glistened with dewy moisture. She wore only a pale ivory chemise, the hem yanked up over her knees and wedged firmly between her thighs, exposing the soft contours of well-rounded calves. But those were not the only curves to draw his attention. Shapely hips tapered to a narrow waist before his eyes rested upon a pair of supple breasts tucked snugly between the tight confines of bodice lace.
    Delightful thoughts scampered through his mind. Randy images made more vivid by