The Promise in a Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page B

never before seen wielded with such consummate skill.
    It was a net he cast over her. She knew what it was, what he was doing, knew in some corner of her bemused brain that at the end of the dance she could, and would, step free. But while they revolved and paced through the stately figures, she was caught, enthralled.
    Fascinated.
    She was aware of breathing more rapidly, of the sensitization of her skin. Aware of her body, her breasts, arms, hips, legs, as she never had been before. Aware that the fascination was mutual.
    A heady experience, one that left her slightly dizzy when the music finally died. He raised her from her curtsy; she half turned from him. “I wish to return to Mme Thierry.”
    From the corner of her eye she saw his lips lift; she looked, met his gaze, and realized that his expression was not one of triumph but of indulgent understanding.
    Dangereux.
    The word whispered through her brain. She shivered.
    â€œCome.” He held out his hand. “I’ll take you to her.”
    Laying her fingers in his, she let him lead her across the room. Delivering her most correctly to Marjorie’s side, he exchanged bows with Louis, posing beside Marjorie, then bowed formally to her and withdrew.
    â€œ Mon Dieu ! Helena—“
    She raised her hand, cutting off Marjorie’s words. “I know—but we have come to an agreement of sorts. He accepts I will not be his lover, but—as he finds me amusing and there is no way I can see to dismiss him if he does not wish to be dismissed—he has consented to help me in finding a suitable gentleman to wed.”
    Marjorie stared at her. “He has agreed . . . ?” After a moment she shook her head. “The English—they are mad.”
    Louis straightened. “Mad or not, he could be a valuable ally, a most useful source of information. If he is inclined to be indulgent, and he is so much older, after all—“
    Marjorie snorted. “He is thirty-seven, and if half I have heard is true, those of twenty -seven would be hard put to keep pace with him.”
    â€œBe that as it may”—Louis tugged at his waistcoat; he was twenty-seven—“if Helena has made it clear she will not be his latest conquest and he is yet of a mind to be helpful, it would be foolish indeed not to avail ourselves of his aid. I am certain my uncle, monsieur le comte, would encourage us to accept monsieur le duc’s offer.”
    Helena inclined her head. “On that, I would agree.” Fabien was ever one to use any tool that came to hand.
    Marjorie looked uncertain but sighed. “If you are sure that is what monsieur le comte would expect . . . eh, bien, we will follow that road.”

Chapter Two

    M ARJORIE might have acquiesced to their scheme, but she remained unconvinced; every time Helena returned to her escorted by St. Ives, Marjorie behaved as if he were a wolf in temporarily amiable mood, but certain, when hunger struck, to revert to type.
    â€œThere is nothing to fear, I assure you.” Beside Marjorie, Helena squeezed her arm. They were standing in Lady Harrington’s ballroom surrounded by holly and ivy; trailing leaves swirled about the ornate columns while red berries winked from garlands gracing the walls.
    St. Ives had just arrived. Announced, he paused at the top of the steps leading down to the ballroom’s floor, scanning the crowd, noting their hostess, then searching further . . . until he saw her.
    Helena’s heart leaped; she told herself not to be silly. But as he descended, languidly elegant as always, she couldn’t deny the excitement flaring in her veins.
    â€œHe’s just helping me decide on a suitable husband.”
    She repeated the phrase to calm Marjorie, even if she’d never believed the “just.” She might have told him she would not be his lover, but he’d never agreed or accepted that. He had, however, said he would help her find a