The Borrowed Bride Read Free

near. “Isabel?” His intimate gaze wandered over her throat now, no doubt seeing her racing pulse.
    “I was saying,” she forced out, “that I don’t…”
    “Don’t what?” His thumbs brushed at her wrists, lightly, gently.
    “…want you…” she tried to continue.
    “Go on,” he whispered. His tongue came out and subtly moistened his lower lip.
    “…in my life again.”
    His hands stayed on the railing. Yet he moved closer, his hard thighs brushing hers, searing her through the wispy fabric of her skirt. She felt every nerve ending jolt to life. By the time he grinned insolently and pushed back from the railing, she was dazed and furious, and the ferry was unloading.
    “Just checking,” he said.
    “You bastard,” she whispered.
    A pair of women with straw shopping bags passed by, sending Isabel looks of rueful envy.
    Dan stepped back, smiling his I’m-a-rebel smile.
    “I need to make a phone call,” Isabel said. “And then I’m taking the next ferry back to Bainbridge.”
    “We haven’t settled a damned thing.”
    “We settled everything five years ago. It didn’t work then, and it won’t work now.”
    “Five years ago was only the beginning.”
    “No.” The word sounded strangled as she headed for the stairs. “It was the end.”
    He caught her wrist, and she froze. There was not a trace of a smile on his face when he brought her around to look at him.
    “Don’t you think you owe me one more chance?” His voice was a low rasp that reminded her of the smoky, yearning love ballads he used to sing to her. “After all, you almost had my baby, Isabel.”

Two
    D an Black Horse couldn’t believe Isabel had agreed to come with him. But then, he couldn’t believe he had said such a blatantly manipulative thing to her.
    She had even called the clean-cut Anthony and told him not to worry; she’d be in touch.
    And so here they were—a couple of hours southeast of the city, at his guest lodge in a wilderness so deep and untouched that there weren’t even roads leading to the property.
    He looked across the timber-ceilinged lounge at her and could not for the life of him think of a damned word to say.
    She stood at a window, one slim hand braced on the casement, gazing out at the dense old-growth forest that rose like a sanctuary around the lodge. In the green-filtered glow of the afternoon sun, she looked fragile and lovely, the shape of her legs visible through the thin, full skirt, her back straight and proud, her hair flashing with burnished light.
    A wave of tenderness washed over him. Always, she managed to look isolated and alone, even when she was in a crowd of people. It was one of the first things he had noticed about her.
    “You changed your hair,” he said at last, then grimaced at his own inanity. Boot heels ringing on the floor, he crossed to the bar and took out a can of beer for himself and a soda for her.
    She turned around to face him. Her full breasts strained against her cotton jersey top. “You changed your life.”
    Her face was more striking than he remembered. Large doe eyes. High, delicate cheekbones. A full mouth that drove him crazy just thinking about it. An air of winsome uncertainty that made him want to take her in his arms and never let her go.
    Ah, but he had let go. Five years earlier, he had not been brave enough, smart enough, to hold her.
    He handed her the soda and gave her a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I guess you could say I made some changes.”
    “A few, it would appear.” She strolled around the rambling room. “Where’s the phone? I had no idea you were taking me this far away. I should check in with—”
    “No phone,” he told her quietly.
    “What?” Liquid sloshed out of the can, but she didn’t seem to notice.
    “There’s a radio for emergencies, but the phone lines don’t come up this far, and it’s too remote for cellular.”
    She sagged against the back of an armchair. “Whatever happened to the city boy? Didn’t you find fame