Cold-Hearted Rake
Throughout Kathleen’s speech, Winterborne had looked away as if he were only half listening. At that last remark, however, she found herself the target of a bladelike gaze.
Perhaps, she thought uneasily, it would be best to leave soon.
Winterborne approached her as she stood by the bookshelves. “Tell her she’s free, then,” he sneered. He leaned his cane against a shelf and set a broad hand on a section of fluted casing. “If a few kisses are enough to make her bedridden, I doubt she’d live through her first night as my wife.”
Kathleen returned his gaze without flinching, knowing that he was trying to unnerve her. “I’ll see that the ring is returned to you as soon as possible.”
“She can keep it as compensation for wasted time.”
Her nerves crawled as he set his free hand on the other side of the bookcase, trapping her without touching her. His shoulders blocked the rest of the room from her view.
Winterborne’s insolent gaze raked over her. “Perhaps I’ll take you instead,” he astonished her by saying. “You’re a blue blood. One supposes you’re a lady. And for all your lack of size, you appear far more durable than Lady Helen.”
She stared at him coldly. “There’s nothing to be gained by mocking me.”
“You don’t believe I’m serious?”
“I don’t give a monkey’s toss whether you’re serious or not,” she shot back. “I have no interest in anything you could offer.”
Winterborne grinned, his amusement seeming genuine but not the least bit friendly.
As Kathleen began to sidle away, he moved to block her with swift efficiency.
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.”