Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(108)

She froze, fear beginning to hum through her.

“Never assume you know what someone’s going to offer. You should at least hear mine before you turn it down.” Winterborne leaned down until his face was close to hers. That small movement conveyed at least a half-dozen distinct threats, any one of which would have been enough to cow her.

“It includes marriage,” he said, “which is more than you’ll ever have from Trenear.” Contempt gleamed in his eyes as he saw her surprise. “No, he didn’t tell me that you and he were carrying on. But it was obvious in Hampshire. He’ll tire of you soon, if he hasn’t already. Trenear wants novelty, he does. But what I want is to go places where I’m not welcome – and for that, I’ll need to marry a highborn lady. It doesn’t matter to me that you’re not a virgin.”

“How fortunate,” Kathleen couldn’t resist saying acidly, “since virgins don’t appear to be your forte.” As soon as the comment left her lips, she regretted it.

That unsettling cold grin again. “Aye, a virgin sacrifice Lady Helen was, for the sake of Eversby Priory and the rest of the Ravenels.” Brazenly he used his forefinger to trace the seam at the shoulder of her dress. “Wouldn’t you do the same for them? For her?”

She didn’t flinch at his touch, although her flesh prickled. “I don’t need to. Lord Trenear will take care of them.”

“Who will take care of Trenear? He’ll have to scheme and labor a lifetime to keep his estate from falling to ruins. But with the smallest fraction of my fortune” – he snapped his fingers in front of her face – “all his debt will vanish. The house will be restored, and the land will be made fat and green. A happy ending for everyone.”

“Except for the woman who marries you,” Kathleen said disdainfully.

Winterborne’s smile was edged with a sneer. “There are women who like it the way I give it. In the past I’ve even pleased a fine lady or two, who were tired of lily-white gentlemen with soft hands.” He stepped forward, crowding her against the bookshelves. Suggestiveness colored his low tone. “I could be your bit o’ rough.”

Kathleen didn’t know what he intended, or how far he might go in the effort to intimidate her.

She would never find out. Before she could reply, a murderous voice came from the threshold.

“Back away, or I’ll rip every limb from your body.”

Chapter 33

Winterborne took his hands from the bookshelf casings and mockingly kept them in the air as if he were being held at gunpoint. With a gasp of relief, Kathleen skirted around him and hurried toward Devon. But she stopped in her tracks when she saw his face.

From the looks of it, Devon’s grip on sanity was not at all certain. His eyes gleamed with violence, and the muscles of his jaw were twitching. The infamous Ravenel temper had begun to burn every civilized layer into bright-edged ash, like the pages of a book cast into a fire.

“My lord,” Kathleen began breathlessly, “I thought you’d gone to Hampshire.”

“I did.” His wrathful gaze flickered to her. “I just returned to Ravenel House. The twins said they thought you might be here.”

“I found it necessary to talk to Mr. Winterborne about Helen —”

“You should have left it to me,” Devon said through gritted teeth. “The mere fact of being alone with Winterborne could create a scandal that would haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

His face darkened. “From the first moment I met you, you’ve tortured me and everyone else within reach about the importance of propriety. And now it doesn’t matter?” He gave her an ominous glance before turning to Winterborne. “You should have turned her away at the door, you conniving bastard. The only reason I haven’t throttled you both is that I can’t decide which one of you to start with.”

“Start with me,” Winterborne invited gently.

The air was charged with masculine hostility.

“Later,” Devon said with barely restrained rage. “For now, I’m taking her home. But the next time I see you, I’ll put you in a f*cking box.” Turning his attention to Kathleen, he pointed to the doorway.

She didn’t like being commanded as if she were a disobedient poodle. When he was in this state, however, she decided it was better not to provoke him. Reluctantly she started forward.

“Wait,” Winterborne said gruffly. He went to a table near a window and seized something. She hadn’t noticed it before; it was the potted orchid that Helen had given him. “Take this bloody thing,” he said, shoving the pot at Kathleen. “By God, I’ll be glad to be rid of it.”

After Devon and Kathleen had departed, Rhys stood at the window to view the scene outside. A streetlamp shed a weak lemon glow over a line of cab horses, illuminating the puffs of steam from their nostrils. Groups of pedestrians hurried across the wood pavement toward the department store display windows.

He was aware of Quincy’s sturdy footsteps approaching.

After a moment, the valet asked reproachfully, “Was it necessary to frighten Lady Trenear?”

Rhys turned his head to give him a slitted glance. It was the first time Quincy had dared to speak to him so impudently. In the past, Rhys had fired more valuable men for far lesser remarks.