Beauty Tempts the Beast (Sins for All Seasons #6) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,22

a far worse situation than she was presently in. But if he was to become her protector then Griffith could join Marcus in the quest to reclaim the family honor. And Marcus had spoken true. Under their present circumstance no one would marry her. She was already four and twenty. By the time this matter was sorted—should it ever be sorted—she’d be so high on the shelf no gentleman would ever reach for her. She had no reason whatsoever to save herself for marriage. She might as well do what she could now to relieve her brothers of their worry over her so they could focus their efforts on ensuring no harm came to either of them as they pursued what she feared was a reckless venture.

Shoving her cup aside, Kat took Althea’s hands as though to impart strength because she knew her dear friend was considering doing something rather scandalous. “I don’t know anything about him specifically, but what I do know about the Trewloves is that, in spite of being born on the wrong side of the blanket, they possess a decency that is to be admired. It may be foolish of me, but I have often thought that if I needed to place my life in someone’s hands, it would be theirs.”

Althea found the words extremely comforting because since last night, she’d begun to believe the same thing regarding Benedict. Unintentionally, she had placed her life in his hands—and he had cared for her as though she was precious, even if she’d been somewhat of a termagant toward him.

How well might he treat her if she was more welcoming?

Chapter 5

Within his study, sitting at his desk, Beast repeatedly dipped his pen in the inkwell and scribbled frantically over the parchment, striving not to envision Althea peering at him through the narrow opening in her doorway, looking so delectable, so vulnerable, so beautiful with her blond hair cascading around her.

I haven’t taken a dislike to you.

Better if she had.

Setting aside his pen, he read what he’d written, key phrases jumping out at him. Moon-kissed tresses. Sapphire eyes. Heart-shaped face. He realized he’d described Althea, made her the protagonist in this tale of murder and revenge that he’d only recently begun penning.

Bloody hell. He spread his palm, splayed his fingers over the foolscap, gathered it up, balled it tightly between his hands, and tossed it into the wicker bin that he’d been filling with the rubbish he’d written ever since he’d awoken at dawn.

He couldn’t get her off his mind, how she’d been as light as a feather cradled within his arms, how right it had felt to have her pressed against his chest as he’d carried her from that filthy alleyway, terror at the thought of her dying in his embrace gripping him. Later in the parlor, he’d kept his arms crossed and his shoulder against the wall because he’d desperately wanted to curl himself around her and offer whatever comfort she’d required, even as he’d believed at the time that she wouldn’t welcome his nearness, that she’d viewed him as beneath her. That she’d taken a dislike to him.

Only she hadn’t. Or if she had, she’d changed her mind before seeing him to the door.

He was accustomed to people looking at him disparagingly. A bastard born and raised, he knew what it was to reside in darkness, searching for a sliver of light. When he’d finally found the courage to ask Ettie Trewlove about how he’d come to be on her doorstep, he’d learned how the sadness of being forsaken could eat at one’s soul, how sometimes it could drag one under like being caught beneath a wave and unable to find the way back to the surface.

But he’d also learned from Ettie Trewlove and his siblings that love tempered the hurt. He understood the power of touch, of feeling a connection, of knowing someone was there for him, would always be there for him.

Still, he’d never fallen in love, had never trusted anyone outside his family to love him completely, flaws and all.

So he couldn’t explain the ferocity with which he was drawn to Althea Stanwick, this irrational need he had to protect her. Lust was a big part of it, a physical attraction unlike any he’d ever experienced. When he’d finally gone to sleep, he’d dreamed of licking every inch of her, of her licking every blessed inch of him. He’d awoken aching with need and hard as granite, had been forced to take himself