Surrender to a Wicked Spy Read Online Free Page B

barely seen him through her lace veil during the ceremony and she'd been a bit too nauseous to truly take him in during the wedding breakfast.
    Now, here, alone with him, the full impact of his size and golden splendor quite took her breath away. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the room she'd previously thought spacious and his blue eyes seemed to lock her gaze to him like a magnet. In fact, her breath was still gone and it was beginning to make her dizzy.
    She put a hand to her forehead. Very… very… dizzy…
    In a smooth motion, he was there to catch her even before her knees weakened. He plucked her from her feet as if she weighed no more than a cat—and Olivia was certain she weighed more than many well-fed cats—and carried her swiftly to the chair by the hearth.
    "Are you ill?" His breath was soft and warm on her cheek. Olivia closed her eyes against his concern, too embarrassed by her display to answer. "Should I call for your maid?"
    His arms were still about her, supporting her even though she was perfectly well. It was rather like being strapped between stone arches, as if nothing could ever induce him to let her go. Even the heat of his body surrounded her, and he still smelled exceptionally good. Olivia flushed as she realized that she liked it very much. Unfortunately, she could not let it continue. She'd never been able to lie very well, so she was forced to blurt out the truth.
    "You make it rather difficult for me to breathe."
    He immediately loosened his grasp of her. Olivia was sorry at once and fought the impulse to fall upon his vast chest in a renewed swoon. She could, she realized, and it would not be at all improper. He belonged to her now.
    As liberating and tempting as that thought was, she could not disturb him further. "That is not quite what I meant," she said, loathing the scarlet blush that she knew was flooding her face. She'd never been able to blush prettily like some women, with roses blooming in both cheeks. Her blushes looked rather more like blotches. "I did not eat today and I'm ever so slightly nervous and you're rather… overwhelming."
    Dane gazed down at his new bride in deep disappointment. He'd guessed wrongly after all. She'd seemed nicely sturdy in his previous encounters, hardy and full of common sense. He released her rather reluctantly and stood. She had felt good in his arms and he'd so hoped…
    She was obviously far more frail and timid than he'd thought her. She could scarcely bear to look at him. Never mind. What was done was done. She was now his wife. It was his duty to protect her, even if that meant protect her from himself. She could not help her lack of fortitude, no more than he could help his… problem.
    "I shall ring for your maid," he told her gently, concealing his disappointment. "Then I will leave you undisturbed."
    His new bride gazed up at him in astonishment, her fiery blush fading. "Leave?"
    Dane stiffened. "Of course. I am not the sort of man to force myself—"
    "No!" She was on her feet in a flash. "I do not wish to go through this again!"
    Dane flinched. "Of course not. I will make no demands—"
    Incredibly, his demure new bride, a supposed paragon of propriety and self-control, stomped her foot and glared at him.
    "Have you the faintest idea how hard it was to wait for you tonight? Or all fortnight, for that matter? I feel as though I've done nothing but sit by the window and twiddle my thumbs for weeks! And now, having spent only moments in my company—
again
—you are going to leave?" She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and glared at him. "Well, I won't have it. You're staying."
    Dane could only gaze at her blankly for a moment. No one spoke to him in such a manner. Ever.
    Since he'd reached his adult height at sixteen, standing freakishly tall over the other boys, he'd been treated with nothing but the most careful respect. He'd never tried to use his size to intimidate, but then he'd never had to. All he had to do was speak to