Eighteen

Isabelle didn’t care what she wore for her wedding. A wedding she didn’t want, she reminded herself as she and Mrs. Winters stood with the dressmaker, trying to decide upon a gown. She couldn’t stop thinking about that moment with Viscount Lockwood today in the library. The heated look in his bluish-gray eyes let her know why he wanted to marry her, and it sickened her. When he gently stroked her throat, bile had risen in her mouth and it was all she could do not to gag.

Strange, but his touch also stirred emotions in her—those she didn’t want to think about. Visions of Captain Hawk’s magical fingers and melting kisses danced in her head all the while the viscount had caressed her. She didn’t want to think of Captain Hawk because it evoked sad memories. More importantly, she didn’t w