Devil's Daughter (The Ravenels #5) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,61
so far above me in every way. I’m aware of how small-minded that is, but even men with small minds know their limits.”
“I’m not above you,” Phoebe protested.
“You’re too perfect to be entirely human. You belong to some higher order—not quite an angel, but close. No woman in my life, before or after you, will ever thrill me as you do. I don’t know what to call this. But I do know you should be worshipped by a man who’s earned the right—and that man is not me.” He paused. “I’ll take the cat now.”
“Wh-what?” Phoebe asked dazedly.
“The cat. Put her in a basket and I’ll take her back to the barn. Unless you want to keep her.”
“No, I . . . thank you, no, but—”
“Go get her. I’ll wait.”
Seeming disoriented, Phoebe disappeared, leaving the door ajar. Soon she returned with a large, lidded basket, a few plaintive mewls slipping through the woven reeds.
West took it from her. “When you leave, I won’t be there to see the carriage off. I can’t. If I try to say good-bye, I’m sure to do something that would embarrass us both.”
“Wait,” Phoebe began, sounding breathless, “I need to ask—”
West didn’t want to hear whatever it was. He couldn’t bear it. Keeping the basket tucked in one arm, he reached out with his free hand, clasped the soft nape of her neck, and kissed her. He felt her lips tremble beneath his. The delicious warmth of her response stole through him, melting through the frozen despair. Finally, he could take a deep breath again. He savored her full, sweet mouth, pulling and teasing the silkiness, stealing as much of her taste as he could. He wanted to spend years kissing her. Instead he finished with a strong nudge and let go of her.
“Let’s forget about that one too,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. And he left her while he was still able, carrying away the protesting cat in the basket.
“You can’t go anywhere,” Devon said, when West told him he was heading out to the barn. “The Challons will be leaving soon—you’ll want to bid them farewell.”
“No, I won’t,” West replied shortly, still holding the unhappy cat in the basket. “I’m going to stay away until I’m sure they’re gone.”
His older brother scowled. “I thought you might accompany them out to the railway halt.”
“I’m accompanying this vicious cat back to the barn.”
“What should I tell the duke if he remarks on your absence?”
“There are only three reasons anyone ever needs me around here,” West said sourly, “when something is broken, overflowing, or mired in a bog. Use one of those. I assure you, the Challons won’t give a damn whether I’m here or not.”
“Did you quarrel with Lady Clare? Is that why you appeared to be sitting on a hedgehog all through dinner?”
West’s lips twitched despite his bad mood. “Is that how it looked? I assure you, I wasn’t nearly that comfortable.”
Devon’s frown eased. “You can’t outrun your problems.”
“Actually, I can,” West said, walking away with the basket. “Look—I’m doing it right now.”
“Have you tried being honest with her about your feelings?” came Devon’s voice from behind him.
“Sweet mother of God, can you hear yourself?” West asked without turning around. “I’d get more manly advice from Kathleen.”
He exited the back of the house and didn’t stop walking until he’d reached the group of farm buildings. The familiar sights and rhythms of the farm helped to restore his balance and blunt the sharp edges of misery. The coming days would be filled with no end of hard physical work, which would hopefully exhaust him enough to let him sleep at night.
After reaching the hay barn, he gently set the basket on the ground, lifted the lid, and tipped out the little black cat, who hissed and gave him a baleful stare.
“Sorry, Galoshes,” he said. “It’s back to work for both of us. Go catch some mice.”
The cat slunk away.
West went to the blacksmith’s shop, where Stub and some of the men were busy repairing a broken axle. They had raised a heavy cart with a set of differential pulley blocks to reach the broken parts beneath. Although they didn’t need his help, nor was there a good reason for him to stay and watch, he lingered as long as possible. Every few minutes he consulted his pocket watch, which finally prompted Stub to ask good-naturedly, “Are we not moving lively enough for you, Mr. Ravenel?”
West smiled slightly and shook his head, replacing the watch.