A Wedding For The Scandalous Heiress. Elizabeth Beacon

       Chapter Four

      Wulf struggled with a powerful urge to shake Isabella until she was as disarrayed as he was after galloping all the way here as if the devil was on his heels. But he couldn’t do that with the young Kentons looking on. Even if their softly hostile words didn’t carry on the clear air, such acute children must already know something was amiss and that would send them running for their father. Tension was stiffening every muscle and sinew he had and he wanted Isabella with a burning hunger he’d never felt the like of before. It roared to life the instant he set eyes on her hesitating on the edge of the terrace at Haile Carr while he was trying to convince himself to go inside the hot and brightly lit ballroom because Magnus needed his support and never mind the Earl and his eldest half-brother’s order to stay away. If only he’d fought his doubts a little harder, he might have been introduced to this golden-haired and lovely heiress as Magnus’s intended bride instead of kissing her as if his heart and soul depended on it.

      An image of his brother six months on, pale, bony and unshaven as he brooded over a brandy glass at the breakfast table, reminded him why he was here. But as Isabella Alstone was as cool as the frosty air around them as she stared back at him, there seemed no point repeating the speech he’d put together word by painful word as he rode here. His inner devil took over his tongue at first sight of her and hurt was still screaming for air inside him. For months this sense of betrayal had wanted to tumble out in a toxic stream of bitter words, but they weren’t for Magnus, were they?

      ‘Quiet men have unquiet souls and dark needs and it could be too late to draw back and say a polite “no, thank you” to the next one you hook as firmly as you caught my brother,’ he warned. The thought of her playing with another idiot in the dark made him feel as if madness was lying in wait.

      ‘You have no idea what your brother and I mean to each other. You should be wary of thinking you know him better than he does himself, Mr FitzDevelin. I would like you to leave before you cause the sort of scene I would rather not put my family through at Eastertide with my sister so near her time.’

      ‘No doubt your brothers-in-law will enjoy crushing my pretensions if they find me, but I rode here for my brother’s sake and would rather be a thousand miles away for mine. Will you mend this public rift and take up your betrothal to Magnus again?’

      ‘No,’ she said stiffly.

      Was it the hint of hurt too deep for an ice princess that made his breath catch and a whisper of forbidden longing catch at his heart? No, she was his brother’s dream and Wulf FitzDevelin’s worst nightmare. ‘You don’t care a fig for my brother,’ he said flatly and turned away in disgust. Yes, that was it; her regal indifference to Magnus’s sufferings disgusted him. He should disregard the little part of him that was dancing a jig because she was free to enjoy all kinds of forbidden mischief with Magnus’s bastard brother at last.

      ‘Maybe I care too much,’ he thought he heard her whisper and his inner devil tripped up in mid-skip and fell flat on its ugly face.

      Wulf spun on his heel to glare a challenge at her and she met it, nodded at their youthful audience to remind him to be quiet. ‘Why break your engagement, then?’ he rumbled gruffly.

      ‘Because it was the right thing to do,’ she murmured, watching the Kenton children explore the labyrinth as if they’d been the centre of her interest all this time and the hard tension in the air between them didn’t fascinate her as well.

      ‘And you always do the right thing, do you?’

      ‘No, but I own my mistakes when I realise I’ve made them, Mr FitzDevelin.’

      ‘Was it because I kissed you at the Summer Ball?’ he finally gritted out the question that had alternatively appalled and elated him since he read a notice the marriage between the Honourable Magnus Haile and Miss Isabella Alstone would not take place. The newssheet had appeared just as he returned from running away from his stark betrayal of his brother’s trust.

      ‘You do have a high opinion of yourself, Mr FitzDevelin.’

      ‘Was it?’ he persisted.

      ‘No, I might have managed to forget that outrage...’

      ‘You didn’t respond with outrage at the time; I wish you had.’

      ‘So do I and stop interrupting—it’s rude as well as a waste of time. Where was I? Oh, yes, I might have forgotten that outrage, but I chose to keep it in my memory as a reminder never to wander out of a hot ballroom and expect to find a gentleman in the dark. Your conduct that night had no influence on my decision not to marry your half-brother. Be glad of it, Mr FitzDevelin, and stop glaring at me as if I made you do it when we both know you fell on me like the lust-driven yahoo you are.’

      He ought to be as furious as she was trying to make him, but when she put on that high-nosed lady manner, it lit a fire inside him she ought to be a lot more wary of. It had burnt out of control that night at Haile Carr; heat had scorched the sense out of both of them, as if being close as they could get was all that mattered in this life. Gus would have every right to despise him if he found out what they nearly did the first night they laid eyes on one another, but this wasn’t about them and stealing illicit kisses in the moonlight. He had come here to plead with her to take his half-brother back and marry him, not to remind them both how disgracefully they behaved when they forgot who they were. So how is that going, Wulfric? Badly. The uncomfortable truth was he didn’t want her to wed anyone else. Fury at the very idea of her in another man’s arms thundered up against his love for his brother and trumped it. He made himself recall the sickening fall back to earth that night after he’d kissed this beautiful, vital woman as if his life depended on it, then found out who she was. A Miss Alstone of Wychwood would never truly want a misfit like him. Even if he had half a kingdom to offer her, she’d turn up her nose and say a chilly ‘No, thank you’.

      ‘Did Gus ever kiss you like that?’ he heard himself ask and only just smothered a groan of disbelief.

      ‘He never asked for more than a lady cares to give before marriage.’

      ‘Less than nothing, then,’ he stated flatly and she blushed and lowered her eyes. He tried to stamp on a low sense of satisfaction he’d ruffled her ice-maiden calm when Gus could not.

      ‘I gave your brother his freedom, and if you want to know more, you must ask him,’ she