Page 11 of The Devil's Pawn

I don’t even listen. What’s the point? Someone will nudge me when it’s my turn to say or do something. My eyes glaze over. I pretend I’m an actress—although I can’t act worth a dime—and this is a movie set. Once it’s over, I get to go home, where I belong.

Alexander’s cool fingers wrapping around mine jerks me from my daydream. My eyes widen, and I automatically tug to free myself. He grips me harder.

“Rings,” he hisses.

Oh.We’re at that part already? Does that come before the “I do” part in England? Maybe I should have read up on wedding etiquette or something. Perhaps I would have if I’d been given more of a warning.

The minister reads my vows, and I repeat them, my voiceas wooden as the benches the guests are sitting on. The wedding band feels odd—heavier than I expected. While it’s silver in color, with a few diamonds set into the metal, I imagine it’s white gold, maybe platinum. I didn’t get an engagement ring, so I wasn’t able to get used to wearing something around my finger.

Alexander lets go of my hand and holds out his own. Nicholas extends a small cushion toward me, a thick silver band sitting on top.

My fingers tremble as I pick it up, and I almost drop it. I slide it onto the third finger of Alexander’s left hand, wondering if he had the same thoughts as me over the foreign object.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the minister says with a beaming smile. “You may kiss the bride.”

Alexander turns to me, and I raise my chin, readying myself for something dismissive, for the sake of appearances. Instead, his large hands cup my face, his thumbs angling me to his satisfaction. When his lips press against mine, I freeze. I’ve only been kissed twice before, both times in college, and my recollections are that it was wet, sloppy, and not all that enjoyable.

But Alexander’s kiss is nothing like those. It’s gentle at first, coaxing almost. My lips tingle as though I’ve eaten chili sauce, and a warmth ignites in my belly, spreading outward until my entire lower half is aglow. The scent of him surrounds me, clean and invigorating like a spring shower. I keep my mouth clamped shut until his tongue slides over my bottom lip, and as I part my lips beneath his, the warmth in my belly explodes into an inferno.

My stomach tilts, unfamiliar sensations assaulting me from left and right, every nerve ending in my body springingto life at the same moment. I may not like this man, but my body sure as hell does.

He grips my hair and makes a low growl in his throat. Oh, God. That sound. It’s so… masculine. So dominant. Butterflies swarm my abdomen, their wings flapping and sending a maelstrom of feelings coursing through me.

I’m reeling.

Disoriented.

Surprised and shocked at the instinctual reaction.

Alexander De Vil isn’t an emotionless robot; he’s impassioned. A man who’s mastered the art of kissing.

When he releases me, I waver, clutching his arm to save myself from falling. Applause breaks out through the crowd. With my thoughts scattered, I risk a glance at my new husband. After a kiss like that, surely he’ll be as confounded as I am.

He meets my stunned gaze with a blank stare, and a part of me snaps inside. He isn’t affected at all. I may as well have been a mannequin for all the impact kissing me had on him.

I take it all back. He’s worse than an emotionless robot. He’s a master manipulator.

“Close your mouth, Imogen,” he murmurs, offering his arm in the expectation I’ll slide my hand through it as custom demands. “A kiss was expected, but since I don’t intend to kiss you like that again, there’s little point in standing there hoping for another.”

My jaw drops, this time in sheer fury, but all the angry words that flow onto my tongue wither when he grabs my hand, places it inside his arm, and says in a clear, crisp voice, “Walk, or I will throw you over my shoulder, carry you out of here, and give you a good, hard spanking in the bargain.”

He sets off walking at a brisk pace, and Ihave no other option but to keep up, especially with his arm trapping my hand like a vise.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen Alexander smile fully. And when he does, he beams.

“Try me.”

Chapter Five

ALEXANDER

What the hell have you done, you bloody idiot?

I didn’t need to kiss Imogen. No one expected it of me. Hell, at most British weddings, even a peck on the lips is sometimes seen as too much by the congregation, let alone the kind of passionate kiss I gave my new wife.

It hadn’t been my intention, either. I’d planned to ignore the traditional instruction of “You may now kiss the bride”. I curse my ill thought-out actions. If Imogen hadn’t sassed me or smelled so good, or looked like all my fantasies rolled into one, I wouldn’t have done it.

---