Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,263

that should do.”

Rhys picked up the hand mirror once more and checked her handiwork. He was not the least surprised to see that there was not a cut or a drop of blood anywhere on his face.

Wister retrieved the first cloth she had used and leaned forward to wipe the remains of the shaving paste from Rhys’s face. Gentle strokes of the flannel had Rhys holding his breath.

She was so damn close.

“Beau Brummell will be quaking like an aspen leaf when he sees you, Baron Carno,” she said.

Rhys grinned at her cheeky quote from Chaucer, though he seriously doubted that London’s prince of fashion would give him a second glance. It was her sultry use of his formal title which set his pulse racing ever faster.

In the matter of a heartbeat, he had taken the cloth from her hand, tossed it onto the table, and reached for her.

Chapter Eleven

Rhys’s strong hands cupped Wister’s face. For a moment their gazes met, and a silent understanding quickly took place. They both wanted this.

He captured her mouth with a gentle, tender kiss. Once. Twice. He brushed his lips over hers. She sensed his hesitation but also his need. As an unwed young woman, she had much more to lose from this encounter than Rhys did. When he drew back, his lips parted. She feared he was about to apologize. She would die if he did.

“Rhys,” she whispered.

When he leaned in again and took her mouth, she silently exalted. This time, he kept nothing back and she gave the kiss her all. Tongues danced over one another, fingers speared into hair—it was all she could do not to grab hold of the towel and cling to dear life in order to make sure he didn’t try to escape. Wister groaned as Rhys grabbed the front of her apron and held fast.

As he claimed her lips, her faint resolve wilted. If Rhys wanted her, she would let him strip her naked and take her right here and now on the table. She didn’t need to touch herself to know she was more than wet and willing for him. The kiss grew ever deeper, more frantic. She reached for the towel, silently cursing herself for having made such a clever knot that it remained firmly in place. Her desperate craving for his heated skin quickly overcame what remained of her sense of decorum.

All those cold, empty nights longing for the caress of a man—to be held and loved.

Please. I will do anything to have you.

Rhys broke free of the kiss, panting heavily. Her gaze took in the scowl which now appeared on his brow, and all Wister’s hopes for sharing a night of passion with him evaporated.

Damn. He regrets it.

She got to her feet and without a moment’s thought for the chill of the evening or the rain, which was now steadily falling, Wister flung open the kitchen door.

As she ran out into the night, Rhys’s voice echoed behind her in the darkness. “Wister, wait. Come back!”

You fool. You bloody fool. You should never have kissed him. Now he will want you gone.

Chapter Twelve

Rhys was waiting at the front of the main house as Deri’s travel coach came to a halt the following morning. He wasn’t used to him being the one to greet his guests when they arrived, but with Wister having disappeared to lord knew where the previous evening, the task had fallen to him.

He had searched in vain for her in the dark, then returned to the house, dressed, and waited. Wister still hadn’t come back.

Why did you kiss her? Now you have frightened her off. She will never trust you again.

The door of the coach swung open and Deri jumped down. Rhys shook his head. His cousin hadn’t even bothered to wait for his coachman to lower the steps.

“Thank god for that. I do hate the bumpy roads of England. Please tell me you have a decent brandy waiting for me. Nice haircut. You almost look human,” said Deri.

“Come on inside,” replied Rhys.

Deri glanced at the house. “Where is your Miss York?”

“I am not sure. She disappeared out the back door last night and I haven’t seen her since. I think I may have offended her. I asked Polly where she might be, but she either doesn’t know or isn’t prepared to tell me.”

Rhys had quickly discovered that while Polly might well be in his employ, she was fiercely loyal to her mistress. He planned to give the cook a special bonus