Marrying Winterborne

Rhys went to occupy the mahogany chair next to the inset cabinet. “That leads to something I need to discuss,” he said casually. “While you were sleeping, I reflected on the situation, and I’ve reconsidered our agreement. You see—” He broke off as he saw her face turn bleach-white, her eyes huge and dark. Realizing that she had misunderstood, he went to her in two strides, lowering to his knees beside the tub. “No—no, it’s not that—” He reached for her hastily, heedless of the water soaking his sleeves and waistcoat. “You belong to me, cariad. And I’m yours. I would never—Jesus, don’t look like that.” Pulling her to the side of the tub, he spread kisses over her sweet, wet skin. “I was trying to say that I can’t wait for you. We have to elope. I should have said so at the beginning, but I wasn’t thinking clearly.” He captured her tense mouth with his, kissing her until he felt her relax.

Drawing back, Helen looked at him in amazement, her cheeks dappled with water, her lashes spiked. “Today?”

“Aye. I’ll take care of the arrangements. There’s nothing you need worry about. I’ll have Fernsby pack a valise for you. We’ll travel to Glasgow by private train carriage. It has a sleeping compartment with a large bed—”

“Rhys.” Her fingers, scented of soap, came to rest on his lips. She took an extra breath to steady herself. “There’s no need to alter our plans. Nothing has changed.”

“Everything’s changed,” he said, a shade too aggressively. Swallowing hard, he moderated his tone. “We’ll leave this afternoon. It’s far more practical this way. It solves more than one potential problem.”

Helen shook her head. “I can’t leave my sisters alone in London.”

“They’re in a household full of servants. And Trenear will return soon.”

“Yes, tomorrow, but even so, the twins can’t be left to their own devices until then. You know how they are!”

Pandora and Cassandra were a pair of little devils, there was no denying it. They were both full of mischief and imagination. After having been brought up on a quiet estate in Hampshire all their lives, they thought of London as a giant playground. Neither of them had any idea of the perils that might befall them in the city.

“We’ll take them with us,” Rhys said reluctantly.

Her brows lifted. “And have Devon and Kathleen return from Hampshire to discover that you’ve kidnapped all three Ravenel sisters?”

“Believe me, I intend to give the twins back at the first opportunity.”

“I don’t understand the need for elopement. No one would deny us a wedding now.”

Steam rose from the water and clung to her fair skin in a glistening veil. Rhys was distracted by a cluster of soap bubbles that slid down the upper slope of her breast in a lazy path, finally coming to rest on the soft shell-pink tip. Unable to resist, he reached out to cup her breast, his thumb brushing away the bit of foam. He circled the nipple gently, watching it tighten into a perfect bud.

“There might be a baby,” he said.

Helen slipped from his grasp, as elusive as a mermaid. “Will there?” she asked, clutching the sponge until water streamed between her fingers.

“We’ll know if you miss your monthly bleeding.”

She applied more soap to the sponge and continued to bathe. “If that happens, it may become necessary to elope. But until then—”

“We’ll do it now,” Rhys said impatiently, “to avoid any hint of scandal if the child is born early.” The soaked waistcoat and shirt had turned clammy and cold. He stood and began to unfasten them. “I don’t want to provide gossip fodder for wagging tongues. Not where my offspring is concerned.”

“An elopement would cause just as much of a scandal as a baby coming early. And it would give my family more cause to disapprove of you.”

Rhys gave her a speaking glance.

“I would rather not antagonize them,” Helen said.

He dropped the waistcoat to the floor, where it landed with a wet smack. “Their feelings don’t matter to me.”

“But mine do . . . don’t they?”

“Aye,” he muttered, working on his wet cuffs.

“I would like to have a wedding. It would give everyone, including me, time to adjust to the situation.”

“I’ve already adjusted.”

There was a suspicious tension at her lips, as if she were trying to hold back a sudden smile. “Most of us don’t live at the same pace as you. Even the Ravenels. Couldn’t you try to be patient?”

“I would if there was a need. But there isn’t.”

“I think there is. I think a large wedding is still something you desire, although you’re not willing to admit it at the moment.”

“I wish I’d bloody well never said it,” Rhys said, exasperated. “I don’t care if we’re married in a church, the office of the Registrar General, or by a shaman wearing antlers in the wilds of North Wales. I want you to be mine as soon as possible.”

Helen’s eyes widened with curiosity. She seemed on the verge of asking more about shamans and antlers, but instead she kept to the subject at hand. “I would prefer to be married at a church.”

Rhys was silent as he opened his collar and began on the front placket of his shirt. The situation was of his own making, he thought, damning himself. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed his pride and ambition to stand in the way of marrying Helen as soon as possible. Now he would have to wait for her, when he could have had her in his bed every night.