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marriage. It would only exasperate all the hurt and
betrayal. She would end up blaming Beau for her
own stupid reactionary mistake and end up hating
him.
She didn t want to hate Beau. He may
have hurt her so bad it hurt to breathe, but she
didn t hate him. She wished she did. It would be
so much easier if she could slam the door on her
wayward emotions, lock away the ever yearning
of her heart and body, if she could just hate him a
little. In the months she had spent lying in his
arms, listening to his dreams of running away and
building an impossible future that only included
building an impossible future that only included
the two of them, Georgie had grown to know Beau
like nobody else could. He believed those dreams
of his. He hadn t been lying to her, as much as she
wanted to paint him that way.
Beau was not deliberately selfish or
reckless. He was a product of his upbringing. The
only legitimate child of a magnate, he had never
learned there were things in life he just couldn t
have. No one said no to Beau Dupuis. No one
dared. As a result, he simply took what he wanted,
including her. He may have had to wait patiently,
lay careful groundwork for his ultimate siege, but
he knew in the end he would have her. And so had
she, no matter how she might have professed
otherwise.
Something had happened in France. She
knew he had been shot down, and this marriage
happened afterwards, when he was trying to
escape. There was probably a very good
explanation. The problem was she could care less
about that explanation. Well, she could have cared
less before seeing him. His eyes told a story her
ears didn t want to hear. She didn t want to know
the reasonable excuse for bringing home a wife.
She wanted to hold on to her anger. By holding on,
she could use that hurt to push him away. If she
let go, she would just fall back into his arms and
become the whore all the nosey, bitter women in
Blakely had always declared her to be.
She couldn t go back there and face the
smug I told you so looks and vicious whispers.
She was tired to death of the gossip that followed
her. Only this time, the gossip would not be about
things she had no control over, rather what she
had willingly done. She would be judged, and
judged harshly, and she refused to face that.
A sharp knock on the bedroom door got her
out of the bed and out of her useless mental
meanderings. There was no point. She had sent
Beau away. He was probably halfway to Georgia
by now.
Shrugging into her robe she opened the
door without looking, then turned to gather up the
baby. Ida was supposed to come take him while
she prepared for the wedding. Well, there would
be no wedding, but she still had to hurry and
dress to catch Lucien before he left for the church.
dress to catch Lucien before he left for the church.
She had to call this thing off before it was too late.
I need to run out for a minute, Ida,
Georgie threw over her should while rushing
toward the wardrobe. I have to catch Lucien
before he leaves for the church.
Why, Georgie? Don t you know it s bad
luck for a groom to see his bride before the
wedding?
She froze where she stood. So, he hadn t
left. She was so sure he would. He looked so
resigned yesterday. But then, that was her Beau.
No, not her Beau. He was his wife s. She
had to remember that, she had to hold on to that
like a talisman against the coming storm because
that was her only hope of keeping him away.
Get out! she screamed, forgetting the
baby sleeping peacefully in his cradle.
As soon as the screech left her lips, the baby
wailed in protest. Changing direction, Georgie ran
to her child, suddenly terrified Beau might do so.
It was silly really, Beau already knew the baby
was his. Still, as long as she could keep him from
touching the child, from seeing him up close, she
could pretend he didn t know. That he wasn t the
least bit interested. Another shield to guard her
heart, but she was looking for any excuse at this
point.
Casting a withering, but quick, look
over her shoulder, she loosened her gown in front
to feed the baby. There was no way in hell she was
going to let him see her feeding, so she pulled a
light blanket over her should to drape the sight
from Beau as she sank into the rocker next to the
cradle.
Inhaling a shaky breath, she observed
Beau through the thick fan of her lashes. He
looked somewhat better than he had last night, but
he still had a tired, worn air about him. Still, a
spark was there now that wasn t the night before; a
new light brightened his cobalt eyes that made her
immediately wary. He was up to something.
Despite the limp that made her heart
bleed, he strode toward her with definite purpose.
She was not about to cower, even though her heart
tripped in her chest. There was just something
about a determined Beau that was damned sexy
a ghost of the old Beau, resolute, indomitable, a
a ghost of the old Beau, resolute, indomitable, a
man who got what he wanted.
He is the husband of another, you can t give
in.
She didn t try to stop him as he lifted the
blanket off her chest and shoulder because she
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