With a low groan of frustration, Rory grasped Joanna’s slender wrists and brought them upward, where he held them imprisoned against his naked chest. She looked up in surprise, innocence glowing in her marvelous eyes.
She belonged to him by the king’s command, and no one could say otherwise. Not even Joanna. The fact that she’d attempted to hide herself from him gave Rory all the more justification for taking her at once and without the benefit of clergy.
But first, Rory wanted to win her affection. Though he didn’t believe in romantic love, a bride should display some tender esteem for her groom. He knew with demoralizing certainty that if he attempted to seduce her tonight, he’d become the villain in her preposterous make-believe tale.
He refused to play the role of the monster.
She waited, looking up at him in bemusement. “Milord?”
Her soft whisper seemed to compress Rory’s heart into a tight leaden lump.
He knew they had to stop.