Honor's Players - By Holly Newman Page 0,16

the door, he leaned against it.

“What, my Elizabeth speechless again? For shame. Well, I’ll promise not to tell, we can’t spoil your reputation now.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked coldly while her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. He came!

“What? Here? Standing— You haven’t asked me to sit yet,” he said easily as he avidly drank in her appearance. She was more beautiful than he remembered.

“Don’t play games,” she ground out. “Why did you come to see me?”

“Now we are getting conceited, aren’t we? And just after one dance.” He watched her bite her lip in exasperation and laughed. “Actually, I came to visit your father.”

“My father?” Her voice shook.

“Certainly. It still is considered necessary for a suitor to ask the parents of a young lady if he may solicit her hand in marriage, isn’t it? At least, it was when I left for Jamaica. Personally,” he went on reflectively, “I’ve always thought the principals should decide such things among themselves first; however, I am in the minority so I bow to convention.”

She sneered at him. “So, another of little Helene’s conquests.” A steel band tightened around her heart.

He cocked his head to one side as he regarded her. “That is exactly what your father thought. Perhaps I overreacted. No, you silly widgeon, it is your hand I asked for.”

The color drained from Lady Elizabeth’s face and she slowly raised her hand to her throat. Her stomach somersaulted. Swallowing convulsively, she stared up at him. The silence in the room was suffocating.

Lady Elizabeth took a ragged deep breath. “How dare you. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man alive. Get out!” she rasped, rising unsteadily from her seat and pointing toward the door. She could not take his teasing her. She knew of her reputation as a shrew. No gentlemen approached her. It was cruel of him to play with her in this manner.

In two strides St. Ryne was before her with her hand held securely between his.

“Thank you, my love. Since I know I am not the last man alive, nothing may stand in my way.”

Elizabeth sputtered, “S-s-swine! Trading on your birth as a nobleman.” She tried to wrest her hand away by pushing on him with her other. “A common cit is a better man! Let me go or I’ll scream!”

“Please do, my love. Though I must admit it is an unconventional method of saying, ‘Yes, I will marry you.’ I would never want my Bess to be conventional. Of course, if you really want to be in a more colorful compromising position, I’m sure we can arrange that, too.”

Elizabeth glared at him then slapped him with her free hand. St. Ryne froze for a moment then slapped her back. Lady Elizabeth’s cheeks burned with the audacity of her action and his unexpected reaction. She raised a shaking hand to her cheek.

“Get out! I don’t know how you weaseled your way up here and I don’t care, just leave!” she rasped, her voice rising, catching painfully in her throat. “I-I won’t marry you. Is that plain enough?”

“My lady, you will marry me because you really don’t like being the laughing stock of society. You are a beautiful, gentle, sensitive young woman and you have lived a lie in order to protect yourself,” he soothed, dropping her hands. “Only now the chickens have come home to roost and it no longer protects you. As each day passes, you are becoming more and more frightened. ”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. It was on her lips to deny him, but the truth shone out from her face and she felt naked and exposed. She turned from him to stand in front of the window, grasping the frame with a white-knuckled hand. Sunlight glowed around her like a halo.

St. Ryne walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. It was within him to feel compassion for this woman, but she still needed her strength and anger to see her through the next week. He did not want her broken, just the wildness contained yet always burning within her.

“Don’t worry, my Bess. Though you are a hell-born brat, I don’t hold that against you. I shall look forward to the fires you’ll ignite in our bed. Now don’t be petulant just because you’ve finally met someone stronger than you. I know you are already aching for my caresses, but we can’t have too much of a good thing too soon. That is a way to get sick.”

Elizabeth whirled