Marrying Winterborne (The Ravenels #2) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,29
carriage’s window blinds during the ride from Cork Street to South Audley, she had seen pedestrians clutching wool coats and capes more closely around their bodies, heading to covered shop doorways to stand in tight clusters. The shower of raindrops, heralding worse to come, had imparted a dark shimmer to the pavement.
But warm yellow light poured through the glass-paned doors that opened onto Ravenel House’s spacious double library, filled with mahogany shelves and acres of books, and heavy well-cushioned furniture. A shiver of anticipation went through Helen at the thought of returning to her cozy house.
Rhys slid a hand over both her gloved ones, giving them a slight squeeze. “I’ll call on Trenear tomorrow evening to tell him about the engagement.”
“He may not take the news well,” Helen said.
“He won’t,” Rhys replied flatly. “But I can handle him.”
Helen was still concerned about Devon’s reaction. “Perhaps you should wait to call until the day after tomorrow,” she suggested. “He and Kathleen will be weary from traveling. I think they’ll receive the news more easily if they’ve had a sound night’s rest. And I could—” She paused as a footman began to open the carriage door.
Rhys glanced at the footman and said brusquely, “A few minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” The door closed at once.
Turning in his seat, Rhys leaned over Helen, toying with the folds of her veil. “Go on.”
“I could explain things to Devon before you arrive,” she continued, “and try to pave the way.”
He shook his head. “If he loses his temper, I won’t have you bear the brunt of it. Let me be the one to tell him.”
“But my cousin would never harm me in any way—”
“I know that. All the same, he’ll be picking for a fight. It’s for me to deal with him, not you.” Carefully he adjusted an edge of her collar that had folded over. “I want this settled by tomorrow night, for both our sakes. I can’t bear to wait longer than that. Will you agree to say nothing until then? And let me take care of it?” His tone was not dictatorial, but rather concerned. Protective. He paused before saying with gruff unwillingness, as if the word threatened to choke him, “Please.”
Helen stared into his coffee-black eyes. This was new, this feeling of being looked after and wanted. It seemed to spread inside her like delicate tendrils.
Realizing that he was waiting for an answer, she replied with a touch of impishness, “Aye.”
After a blink of surprise, Rhys hauled her up into his lap. His eyes glinted with amusement. “Mocking my accent, are you?”
“No.” A breathless giggle escaped her. “I like it. Very much.”
“Do you, then?” His tone had deepened. “I’ll have to send you inside, now soon. Give me a kiss, cariad. One to make up for all the kisses I would have had from you tonight.”
She pressed her mouth to his, and his lips parted, letting her explore him with little flirting tastes. Realizing that he was letting her take the lead, she nudged him more fully open, enjoying the firm silken texture of his mouth. Tentatively she changed the angle of the kiss, and the fit was so lush and delicious that she locked her mouth onto his. She wanted to stay like this forever, caught in his lap with the mass of her skirts bunched all around them, her bottom sinking into the space between his muscular thighs. Gripping his shoulders, she hugged herself closer to the hard contours of his body.
His chest moved in a forceful breath or two, like pumps from fireplace bellows, and he broke the kiss with a groan. A shaken laugh escaped him as her mouth continued to seek his. “No—Helen—ah, how you please me—we have to stop.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Before I take you here in this carriage.”
Befuddled, Helen asked, “It can be done in a carriage?”
His color heightened, and he closed his eyes briefly, as if he’d been pushed to the limit of his endurance. “Aye.”
“But how—”
“Don’t ask me to explain, or I might end up showing you.” Clumsily he set her back on the seat beside him, and leaned forward to rap on the carriage door.
The footman came to help Helen descend, first placing a movable step on the flagstone tiled ground, then extending his gloved hand for her to take. Before Helen reached the French doors, she could already see the twins through the paned glass, their slim forms practically vibrating with eagerness.