Read The Promise in a Kiss for Free Online

husband—she believed he was sincere. It wasn’t hard to see his reasoning. Once she was safely married to a suitably complaisant lord, he, St. Ives, would be first in line to be her lover.
    And in such a position he’d be doubly hard to resist.
    A thrill of awareness—a presentiment of danger—flashed through her. Once he’d helped her to a marriage such as the one she sought, he’d be even more dangerous to her.
    Then he was there, bowing over her hand, speaking politely to Marjorie, then asking her to stroll. She agreed; danger or not, she was already committed and could not easily draw back.
    Easily escape his net.
    The realization opened her eyes, had her attending more closely. He sensed it; she felt it in his glance, the brush of his blue eyes over her face.
    â€œI have no intention of biting, mignonne —not yet.”
    She slanted him a glance, saw the amusement in his beautiful eyes, and humphed. “Marjorie is worried.”
    â€œWhy? I have said I’ll help you find a husband. What is there to concern her in that?”
    Helena narrowed her eyes at him. “You would be wise not to attempt ingenuousness, Your Grace. It does not become you.”
    Sebastian laughed. She continued to delight him, continued, at some level few had ever touched, to engage him. He steered her through the crowd, stopping to chat here and there, to point out this one or that, to admire the ice sculpture of an angel standing in a bower of holly on the terrace, the pièce de résistance of her ladyship’s decor.
    He wished he could increase the pace, curtail this phase and hurry on to the stage where he could touch her, caress her, kiss her again, but given his intent, that wouldn’t be wise. He was a past master at playing society’s games, and the outcome of this particular game was of far greater moment than that of any previous dalliance.
    Once they’d circled the room, he steered her to one side. “Tell me, mignonne, why were you still at the convent all those years ago?”
    â€œMy sister was ill, so I stayed behind to help nurse her.” She hesitated, then added, “We’re close, and I didn’t want to leave her.”
    â€œHow much younger is she?”
    â€œEight years. She was only eight then.”
    â€œSo she is now fifteen. Is she here in London with you?”
    She shook her head. “Ariele was sickly as a child. Although her chest is much improved and grows better with the years, it seemed foolish to risk bringing her to England in winter. Our winters are much milder at home.”
    â€œAnd where is home?”
    â€œCameralle is our major estate. It’s in the Camargue.”
    â€œAriele. A pretty name. Is she pretty, too?”
    Two ladies rose from a nearby chaise, leaving it empty. Sebastian guided Helena to it, waited until she settled her amber skirts, then sat beside her. Given the difference in their heights, if she became pensive and looked down, he couldn’t catch her expression. Couldn’t follow her thoughts.
    â€œAriele is fairer than I.”
    â€œFairer in coloring. She could not be fairer of face or form.”
    Her lips twitched. “You seem very certain of that, Your Grace.”
    â€œMy name is Sebastian, and, given my reputation, I’m amazed you dare question my judgment.”
    She laughed, then looked around them. “Now you may tell me, why is it that, given your reputation, they—the mesdames, the hostesses—are not . . .” She gestured.
    â€œOverreacting to my interest in you?”
    â€œExactement.”
    Because they couldn’t imagine what he was about and had given up trying to guess. Sebastian leaned back, studying her profile. “They’re still watching, but thus far there’s been nothing worthy of an on-dit to be seen.”
    The softly drawled words sank into Helena’s brain. Another premonition of danger skittered over her skin.