Marrying Winterborne (The Ravenels #2) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,122
inching forward to hear him.
“I said, try it.” Rhys pushed from the desk and reached her with stunning quickness, caging her body with his and slamming the sides of his fists against the wall. The room vibrated. He glared into her shocked face. “Try to leave me, and see what happens. Go to France, go anywhere, and see how long it takes for me to reach you. Not five fucking minutes.” He took a few vehement breaths, his gaze locked on hers. “I love you. I don’t give a damn if your father is the devil himself. I’d let you stab a knife in my heart if it pleased you, and I’d lie there loving you until my last breath.”
Helen wanted to crumple in agony. His face blurred before her. “You—you don’t want to end up living with two of Albion Vance’s daughters.” At least, that was what she thought she had said. She was crying too hard to be sure.
“I know what I want.” He pulled her against him, his head lowering over hers.
Feebly she tried to twist away, and his mouth landed on her jaw, dragging hotly over her skin. Shoving at his chest was like trying to move a brick wall. “Let go,” she wept, grieving and exasperated, knowing that he had made the decision without thinking. But the force of his will, the strength of his desire for her, couldn’t change facts. She had to make him face them.
He was kissing her neck, his beard scraping her tender skin until it smarted. But his lips gentled as they grazed the hollow at the base of her throat, where her pulse was beating.
“You s-said any child of his is demon spawn.”
His head jerked up, his eyes fierce. “I didn’t mean you. Whatever damned evil thing I might say, it never means you.”
“Every time you look at me, you’ll remember that I’m half his.”
“No.” His hand came to the side of her face, his thumb wiping her tears. “You’re all mine.” His voice was deep and shaken. “Every hair on your head. Every part of you was made to be loved by me.”
He bent over her again, and she tried to push him back long enough to say something, but she was covered by at least fourteen stone of thoroughly aroused male, and soon she was too distracted to remember what she’d wanted to tell him. Her struggles slowed, her resolve weakening, and he took advantage, devouring and seducing every tender place he could find. Somewhere in the middle of it he turned gentle, searching her with slow fire, until she sagged against him with a moan. She felt him pull at the little combs that anchored her hat, and he tossed it aside. His hands went to either side of her head, angling her mouth upward, and he possessed her hungrily.
“Rhys,” she managed to gasp against his lips, twisting in his arms. “Stop. This isn’t solving anything. You haven’t given one moment’s thought to what you’re promising.”
“I don’t need to. I want you.”
“That’s not enough to make everything all right.”
“Of course it is,” he said, so arrogant and stubborn that she was at a loss for words. He stared at her parted lips, his eyes darkening in a way that sent hot and cold chills down her spine. His voice turned husky. “Damn you for saying I could survive without you. I’ll have to punish you for that, cariad. For hours . . .” His mouth crushed over hers, dizzying and blatantly sexual, making promises that sent her blood racing.
After a long time, his head lifted, and he reached into his coat, pulling out a soft white handkerchief. He gave it to her and kept an arm around her, his embrace now protective, supportive, as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
“Tell me what you’re afraid of,” he said quietly.
“The scandal will never go away,” Helen said miserably. “People would talk behind our backs, and say malicious things, the most terrible things—”
“I’m used to that.”
“I was supposed to help you advance in society. But that won’t happen now. Charity and I are”—a residual sob came out in a hiccup—“liabilities.”
“Not in my world, cariad. Only in yours. Only in that razor-thin layer I was so determined to be part of.” A self-mocking smile tugged at his lips. “For no better reason than pride. To show off, and prove that a Welshman could have whatever he wanted. But that means nothing to me now. You’re all that matters.”