Wed Him Before You Bed Him Read Free Page A

His voice softened. “You used to call me David.”
    â€œThat was before I destroyed your life.” She cursed her quick tongue.
    â€œIt was a long time ago. We’re different people now,” he murmured, clearly unwilling to speak of it. He forced a smile. “Beside, thanks to my wife’s unusual codicil, we’ll have to learn to deal with each other. We’re practically going to be in each other’s pockets for the next few months.”
    She caught her breath. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œYou really weren’t listening to what I said.” His tone turned wry. “I’ll make it brief, so as to hold your attention. Sarah’s bequest is contingent upon one thing—that I oversee the building of the new school. So you see, Charlotte, we’ll have plenty of time to become reacquainted.”

Chapter Two
    D avid wished to God he’d never started his masquerade as Cousin Michael. His heart was thundering so loudly he was sure she would hear, and it took every ounce of his will not to tell her the truth.
    But that wasn’t possible. The only way he could set right the school’s dicey situation was to reenter her life as himself, without her knowing of his alter ego.
    Still, he could tell from the widening of her pretty blue eyes and the paling of her peach-tinged cheeks that he’d shocked her. Was that good? Or did it bode ill for his scheme?
    Hard to tell. Charlotte had always had a knack for throwing him off balance, even as children, when she’d done such unorthodox things as climb trees in her pinafore and ride her pony bareback. Despite their years of correspondence, he never knew quite what to expect of her.
    This was going to be so bloody difficult, even harder than the six months of mourning he’d endured so far, the six months of not writing to her, of not being sure of her situation. If he could have waited the full year to see her, he would have, but matters had become too dire with Pritchard for that. So he’d settled for waiting until he went into half-mourning, when society would find an association between him and a pretty widow less scandalous.
    Now he had to pretend that he didn’t know every difficulty she’d had with the school to date. That he had no clue about how she fretted over it. That he was completely unaware of how his wife’s suicide had added to Charlotte’s problems by rousing every scandal ever discussed about the school.
    Because telling her he was Cousin Michael was out of the question. As illogical as Sarah’s leaving money to the school must seem to Charlotte, the fact that he’d been playing a role with her all these years would seem even more so. She would demand to know why he’d set out fourteen years ago to help a woman he’d had every cause to hate. And then he would have to reveal the truth—that it had started out as a diabolical plan to revenge himself on her.
    It didn’t matter that his desire to destroy her and her little school was long gone, because the bones of his plan were still in place. Pritchard was determined to get his due, no matter who or what it destroyed. So David had to fix the abominable mess he’d created before she found out.
    Unfortunately, the close call with that Spanish fellow Diego Montalvo, who had pretended to want to buy Rockhurst earlier in the year, had shown that David could no longer manipulate matters from afar as Cousin Michael. He needed more control, and that meant ending his masquerade.
    Horrible as it had been, Sarah’s death had given him the opportunity. He would step in as himself, inventing a legacy funded out of the money he’d made from investments through the years. No more “cousin,” no more letters of advice.
    No telling Charlotte the truth, either. It would devastate her to realize that her friend “Cousin Michael” had sowed the seeds of her destruction; then she would balk at