Surrender to a Wicked Spy Read Online Free Page A

could not be allowed to bring down England. Not even Dane himself, one of the four most powerful men in the land, could be permitted to put anyone or anything before his own duty.
    Dane's own weak and traitorous father had taught him that lesson well. A woman had come between Henry Calwell and his duty, a beautiful Frenchwoman who had led Dane's father down a path of obsession and betrayal.
    No breath of mistrust had ever reached Dane himself, but he knew perfectly well that if his father's betrayal had been known before Dane's appointment to the Lion's seat, Dane would never have been selected.
    Blood will tell
. No one so much as whispered the words, but Dane could feel the scrutiny of the other members of the Four like a breath on the back of his neck. He would always have to try harder—always be stricter in his observance of his vows—forever be prepared to sacrifice his own welfare for the sake of the Crown. Sometimes he almost envied what Nate Stonewell, the Cobra, had gone through when he'd been forced to take on the public role of traitor to hide a royal indiscretion. Dane had no such visible badge of honor to substantiate his loyalty. All he had was the shadow of his father's weakness.
    Blood will tell.
    Hence the selection of Lady Olivia for his bride. Not a woman to fall madly in love with. Not a woman to twist his thoughts and his soul into knots.
    Not a woman to lead him to betrayal.
    Now, Dane stood in his bedchamber and eyed the connecting doorway with disquiet. He had chosen Cheltenham's daughter with utmost care. Her mother had assured Dane that Olivia was the soul of discretion and virtue, that she was well schooled in all things ladylike, and he had seen for himself that she possessed a surprising fortitude for one so sheltered in life.
    Fortitude she was going to need if she was to be his wife in truth. He'd not been able to bear the thought that some other man might snatch up such a prize, and with his usual decisiveness, he'd acted to secure her.
    It occurred to him now, too late, of course, that perhaps he ought to have courted the girl a bit. It was going to be difficult enough to win her affections. He knew from experience that if he was not very careful, he would never be able to secure her willingness long enough to gain an heir. He'd be damned if he would leave Greenleigh to some distant relation who'd never set foot on it.
    Dane was forced to admit that he'd intentionally avoided his bride.
Coward
. Of course, he'd been occupied with much more important matters in the past two weeks, he told himself, but he could have sent a flowery, romantic note or three.
    It was too late now. There was nothing left but to face her.
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    When her bedchamber door opened, Olivia's first thought was that she truly needed to stop making those ill-studied wishes.
    Her second thought wasn't so much a thought as it was a wash of heat and astonishment that swept her entire being in a turbulent glow.
    Lord Greenleigh's long golden hair hung loose over his wide, mountainous shoulders. He wore only a loose white shirt tucked into black trousers that hugged his muscled thighs and did rather nice things to his trim hips and flat stomach. He stood there, in all his great-cat fluidity and ease, one hand resting on the doorknob, one knee relaxed, one side of his perfect lips quirked up in greeting…
    Her husband was a god. There was an indisputable god in her bedchamber. Gods, she decided abruptly, truly ought to enter bedchambers more often.
    If she was not vastly mistaken—and she'd lived in the country too long to be mistaken—he was rather glad to be here as well. She dragged her gaze from that daunting region below his waist, trying to take in the man as a whole.
    The whole was entirely beyond compare. He looked wild and graceful and barbaric, a Norse chieftain from a less civilized time.
    She'd thought him handsome in the river. She'd thought him truly superior looking in her front entrance hall. She'd