Read To Tame a Rogue for Free Online Page B

have another opportunity.
      “I knew you would come to your senses,” Penley replied. “I’ll inform Mr. Branton, and the others, of your decision. Now chin up, girl.”
    Penley strode toward the door, arrogance in his stride.
    “Uncle.” He stopped but did not turn around.
    “This isn’t over,” Camille said softly. “One day you’ll pay for the way you’ve mistreated me...for what you’ve done to Meagan. And the other girls.” Thunder clapped outside and jagged streaks of lightning cavorted in the dark sky.
    He laughed. “You’re a bold wench, Camille. But that’s all you’ll ever be. Somebody’s stupid wench.” He paused. "If it wasn't for our blood relation, I would've humbled you too, long ago, with the prick between my legs."
    He strode out of the study chuckling and closed the door, closeting her in the lonely darkness with her thoughts. She sat down, feeling weak and emotionally drained.
    She stared out the window for what seemed an eternity, listening to the staccato tapping of rain on the roof, for the storm clouds had opened up like flowers in the spring. Exhausted and defeated, she pulled the pins from her hair, letting them drop to the floor. She was tired of the charade. She had lost. In that moment, it was as if all her dreams drifted away like parchment on a stiff winter wind. An aching sadness settled over her soul, warring with her anger. And Nicholas was to blame for agreeing to this match. Camille had truly never hated anyone as much before, not even her uncle, until that moment.
    “I see no reason to wait. Are you ready then?” Camille hadn’t heard Nicholas come in. She continued to look at the floor, determined not to show him the hurt in her soul.
    “You will...not change your mind and demand your husbandly rights?” she asked.
    “As I stated before, madame, we are completely unsuited. I do not desire you in the least, nor would I take an unwilling woman to my bed.”
    She stood on shaky legs. “I will agree to this marriage...this sham...with the condition that we never share a bed,” she replied. “As for the ceremony, I suggest we get it over with as quickly as possible. I’m tired. I wish to go to bed. Alone,” she quickly added, heading toward the door. Just as she was about to reach it, he barred her exit with his arm. He was too close now, and she found the faint scent of brandy clinging to his masculine form not unpleasant. She stared at his chest.
    “Miss Hardison, I have a condition or two of my own.”
    “You would demand more of me? Pray tell, Mr. Branton, what might those conditions be?”
    Rain and wind hammered against the sides of the house and the roof. Her heart hammered in her chest. She knew she was baiting him. Despite the fear that leapt in her soul she did it anyway.
    “Everything that is mine is at your disposal, of course. The stables, so there is no need to steal a horse, the seamstress should you desire a new wardrobe. Whatever you may need. As my wife, you shall receive a handsome allowance every month, to use as you see fit.
    “Therefore, from this day forward, you will not slave tables in a tavern. All I ask is that you act the part of lady. As it does for all women, acting seems to come naturally for you.”
    Her shoulders came up. Too late, she realized what her pride had cost her. He was so close she could feel the long, lean hardness of him, the contours of his muscled thighs pressed against the soft, feminine curves of her own. As if he sensed her discomfort, he moved even closer.
    “The other condition?” she asked quickly, alarmed by the hard heat of his body.
    His warm breath brushed her ear as he bent closer to her face and sent dangerous shivers down her spine. His voice was a gruff whisper. “In future, urchin’, you will refrain from flinging peas at my backside.”
    “Oh, if I must,” she whispered. Nicholas almost laughed.
    He backed away, allowing her to precede him into the hallway. He walked behind her, his hand