Fangs For The Memories yb-1 Page 7

  She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide herself and to somehow hide what she’d been doing. But she could tell from the smoldering glow of his eyes, he’d seen.

  The burn of embarrassment mingled with the fire those intense eyes created inside her. She so wanted this man.

  His gaze left her covered chest, and he held her eyes with his.

  She shifted slightly under the hunger she saw there.

  “Sorry,” he said, his voice huskier than usual. “I thought I heard you calling me.”

  She stared at him. Well, her body had been calling him, but she didn’t think her voice had. “I… No.”

  He nodded sharply. “Then I will leave you to your bath.”

  They stared at each other for a moment longer; then Rhys bowed slightly and left, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Jane sagged against the sink, still clutching her breasts.

  This was impossible. It had taken every bit of her rational mind to not invite him to join her in the tub. What was wrong with her? She’d always been so practical, so reserved. Now she was acting like a wanton.

  Rhys shut both Jane’s bathroom and bedroom door, and he still seemed to sense her desire pulling at him, begging him to come back to her. He stopped in the hallway, his own desire telling him to go back. She was his betrothed after all. They weren’t married yet, but they would be soon, as soon as he could arrange it, and then that delectable body of hers would be his.

  He nearly groaned, thinking about what she’d been doing when he arrived at her bathroom door. Her hands caressing her creamy skin. Shaping themselves to the rounded curves of her breasts. Her fingers teasing her swollen pink nipples.

  He still remembered the taste of them. The heat of her body. His cock pulsed painfully in his trousers.

  She was already his, but soon, he’d have her beside him every night.

  Forcing himself to ignore his overly enthusiastic body, he searched for Sebastian. His brother had left him after their celebratory drink to talk with Jane again. Rhys was curious to see what Jane had told his brother.

  Sebastian was in his room. He finished buttoning his shirt, then shrugged on a jacket.

  “Where are you off to?”

  “To the club.” Sebastian combed his fingers through his blond hair. The locks fell into their usual unruly tangle.

  Rhys nodded. “I would join you, but I’m certain Jane already believes me a complete reprobate. I believe I should stay with her this evening and try to convince her otherwise.”

  Sebastian smiled, a puzzlingly amused twist of his lips. “Yes, I think you should.”

  Rhys frowned slightly, then went over to pick up a tie lying on Sebastian’s bureau. How on earth would anyone get a proper cravat out of that skinny thing? He tossed it back onto the bureau.

  “Where is Wilson?” Rhys had not seen their valet all evening. Not that any of the brothers utilized the man much. They all agreed that if a man couldn’t dress himself-well, he was truly inept.

  Sebastian frowned; then his eyes widened. “Oh, Wilson. We gave him a holiday-for Christmas.”

  Christmas? That was right. Today was Christmas. Good Lord, Jane must think she was the one about to wed a savage. He hadn’t even wished her a happy Christmas. And what of a proper Christmas meal-surely the staff hadn’t forgone the meal because Elizabeth and Christian were away? And they had left on Christmas, too?

  Rhys frowned. How very curious.

  “I won’t be at the club long,” Sebastian said. “But I thought it would be nice for you and Jane to have a little time alone.”

  Rhys glanced at his brother, no longer bothered by his siblings being away. In fact, he quite liked the idea of having Jane to himself, too. He just wished he had thought to arrange a proper Christmas celebration, even if it was only for the two of them. He had so much to make amends for-he hoped she was an understanding woman.

  “Have fun,” Sebastian said. Again that knowing little grin was on his lips.

  Rhys supposed his brother found him actually being taken with his betrothed quite humorous-especially after all the objections he’d had. Rhys had to admit it was mildly amusing. If he’d known what he was missing, he would have arranged for her to join him sooner.

  The bath didn’t have the desired effect Jane had hoped it would. She was too unnerved by all the events of the past two days to relax. Not that she wasn’t tempted to hide in her room the rest of the night. But she was supposed to be watching Rhys.

  She finished drying her hair, then brushed on a little mascara, hoping it would make her look a little less tired. Examining her reflection, she decided it didn’t help much, but at least she was suitably clad, her turtleneck and jeans very modest.

  She took a fortifying breath, then exited her room, going to find the “beautiful brothers.”

  She walked down the hall toward the living area. She pushed open one of the dining room doors, but no one was in there. She paused, her hand still on the door, and listened.

  The whole apartment was silent as if not another living soul was there. Worry filled her. What if Rhys wasn’t here? What if he’d left the apartment?

  She softly closed the door and hurried farther down the hall. The hall opened out into a large living room. It was as lavish as the rest of the apartment with more dark antique furniture covered in rich upholstery. But other than a cursory scan of the room, she didn’t stop to study the decor too closely.

  She rushed straight to another door at the far end of the living room. The door was ajar. She pushed the wood panel open and stepped inside.

  Rhys stood in front of a huge stone fireplace, his profile to her, a drink held loosely in his hand.

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, too captivated by how gorgeous he was. The firelight glinted off his hair. The simplicity of the black sweater and black pants he wore seemed to enhance the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips.

  After a few moments, he glanced over at her. “Do come in. I promise I won’t bite.”

  Jane felt her skin burn again from the mixture of mortification and the yearning his words sent through her. She could vividly recall him nipping her, and her breasts ached at the memory.

  She sucked in a calming breath and walked into the room, her legs only a little unsteady. Perching on the edge of one of the soft, cushy chairs, she made herself focus on the room.

  This room, like all the others in the apartment, was huge. One wall was taken up almost completely by three arched windows. The glass in here was clear. Outside, she could see the twinkle of the city lights.

  The rest of the free wall space was filled from floor to ceiling with hundreds and hundreds of books. Despite the size of the room, the space somehow felt cozy. Maybe it was the fire. Or maybe it was the warmth of the shiny wood floors stained a deep brown. Or it could have been the large, overstuffed furniture and the piano in the corner near the windows. But Jane fell in love with the room.

  She stood and walked over to the windows. The view was incredible. The windows looked out over the city. Lights twinkled, and snow swirled softly in the winter air.

  “This is my favorite room.”

  Jane started. Rhys was right beside her; she could feel heat radiating from him.

  He continued to look out the window. “The view is amazing, is it not?”

  “Yes,” Jane agreed, turning to admire the view again, too. “It’s beautiful, and so different from where I lived.”

  He turned his head toward her. “I forgot this is all new to you. I must show you all the sights.”

  Jane smiled. Exploring New York with Rhys-that sounded wonderful. “That would be nice.”

  “London can be daunting, but you will soon feel comfortable here.”

  She blinked, and the reality of her situation came back to her. He didn’t even know he was in New York. And he couldn’t show her around, not until his memories returned, and by then, she would have to move on and out of this strange world in which she now fo
und herself.

  “What is America like?” he asked, moving away from the windows and back to the fireplace.

  She didn’t know how to respond. Did she tell him about Maine? Did she modify her responses to fit the time period he believed he was in?

  “It’s-different. Very rural. Lots of trees and lakes and wildlife.” All true and nothing that would confuse him.

  “It sounds like my estate in Derbyshire. We will spend our summers there. The manor is set amongst rolling hills, and there is a pond, where we often swim.”

  Jane smiled. She wished the place he described existed. It sounded lovely.

  “I also have another estate much closer to London. That is where Christian and Elizabeth are currently. They are attending a house party at the Earl of Barrington’s. He hosts a gathering every year at this time. My little sister, Elizabeth, hates to miss the event as she loves to wear her prettiest dresses and dance. Not to mention the fact that she is also quite taken with the duke’s son, Lord Granford. She is a hopeless romantic.” He smiled with fond indulgence.

  Jane smiled back, finding his affectionate expression very endearing, so different from the unreadable man who had walked her back to her hotel.

  “Now, my brother Christian is quite the opposite. I fear he is the troublemaker of the family. He’s quite the scoundrel and inordinately proud of it.” Again, Rhys didn’t seem upset by his apparently wild sibling.

  Jane caught herself. It was so easy to forget that these people were all figments of Rhys’s imagination. He spoke about them so easily. Then again, maybe they weren’t imaginary. Maybe Rhys did have a sister and another brother.

  “Christian is the reason I owe you an apology. He is notorious for getting both Sebastian and me into all manner of debacles, which was why I was in the state I was in last night. But I assure you that will not happen again.”

  She nodded, unsure what to say since she really had no idea what he was talking about.

  But Rhys seemed to mistake her confusion for doubt. “I hope…” He cleared his throat. “I hope that the evening was-enjoyable to you, despite my condition and my far too bold behavior.”

  She blinked again. Following his words was like trying to sort out a riddle-in another language.

  “It was-very enjoyable.”

  Relief washed over his face, but then the earnestness returned. “I will, of course, call for our banns right away.”

  She nodded. What on earth was he talking about? She thought back to the several Regency romances she’d read. Did they talk about banns?

  She couldn’t remember, so she finally said, “Okay.”

  Rhys smiled, apparently relieved again by her agreement. But the smile disappeared as his eyes roamed over her. His gaze lingered on the fit of her sweater and then dropped to her jeans.

  Suddenly her unexceptional outfit seemed very daring.

  “American men must be very liberal. Your style of dress is far more revealing than what English women are encouraged to wear.”

  She stared at him. He didn’t intend for her to wear a bustle or something? No, they wore empire waists and petticoats. She knew she was supposed to humor him, but there was only so much she would do.

  “This outfit is considered very practical.”

  He walked up to stand before her. “I am sorry. I imagine many of our ways will be different. And it is not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable.” He leaned back slightly to look at her clothes again. “Plus, I must admit I rather like this look.” He reached out and traced a finger along the seam of her jeans, running it slowly down over her hip.

  Jane gazed at him, amazed she could feel the light touch so unmistakably through the thick material.

  One finger joined another until his broad palm was pressed to her hip.

  Then, just as she thought he would stroke his full hand over her, he removed it and stepped back from her.

  “And I certainly cannot talk about style,” he said, his voice self-disparaging and far steadier than Jane felt. “Wilson, my valet, has chosen some interesting clothing selections for me as well.” He pulled his sweater away from himself and frowned down at it. “This is different. And he didn’t pack me a single cravat or proper dinner coat.”

  “The times they are a-changin’,” she said distractedly as she still struggled with the longing in her belly, in her limbs.

  Rhys laughed, the sound deep and rich. “Indeed they are.”

  Jane stared at him for a moment, amazed that everything about this man could be so unbelievably attractive. She forced herself to look away. She wandered over to the piano, running a hand over the glossy black lid.

  “Do you play?” Rhys asked.

  She shook her head. “No. My mother did.”

  “Did?”

  “My mother died when I was ten.”

  Rhys looked genuinely sorry. “That must have been difficult. Do you have siblings?”

  “No, I’m an only child.”

  “Yet, your father sent you so far away to marry and live. That must have been painful for him.”

  A dull pain squeezed her chest as it always did when she thought about the loss of her father. “He passed away, too. Almost a year ago.”

  Rhys stared at her for a moment, then crossed the room, coming to stand in front of her again. “We have that in common, then. My parents died a little over three years ago.”

  She nodded, wondering if he then understood the loss and the loneliness that accompanied death. When her father passed away, she lost the only world she’d ever known.

  Then she realized maybe Rhys’s parents weren’t even dead. He was telling her about a life that didn’t exist. Or maybe it did. Maybe he did understand.

  “Jane,” Rhys said softly, pulling her from her sorrow. His hand came up to cup her face, his fingers strong and warm. “I want you to know that I will take good care of you. You will want for nothing, and-I believe we can find happiness together.”

  As crazy as it was, she’d never wanted to believe someone’s words more-to finally have someone care about her. To have someone to help her. To not be alone.

  Then reality hit her again. This man believed they were engaged. He believed they would marry soon. He believed they would have a life together. But none of that was true-especially the happily ever after.

  Still, she reached up and held his hand, pressing the palm to the side of her face, savoring the slightly rough texture of his fingers and palms. It was nice to feel kindness and compassion, and not feel alone-even if it was for just a few moments and it was all pretend.

  His thumb moved to caress the sensitive flesh of her lower lip. He stared down at her, his eyes golden in the firelight.

  “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are, guileless and as green as new grass?” His voice was low and husky, slipping over her skin like his fingers.

  She shook her head, just a slight movement against his palm.

  “No? How about your lips? Has anyone ever told you how soft and delectable they look?”

  The lips he described parted, and a small breathless noise escaped them. Again she managed a tiny shake of her head.

  “Hmm,” he said. “That has been a major oversight by the male population in general. But I must say, I am very glad I’m the first to tell you.”

  She was, too. She couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else to compliment her like this.

  “Now, my little betrothed, I should warn you that you might want to close those lovely eyes-because I intend to sample those pretty lips.” His head lowered, and his mouth caught hers.

  Jane did close her eyes and twined her arms around his neck, his hair tickling over the backs of her fingers.

  She knew at the moment she was living in as big a fantasy world as Rhys, but she didn’t care. It simply felt too right.

  Rhys tasted Jane, savoring her softness, her delicious taste. Had any other woman ever felt this perfect in his arms? He certainly couldn’t remember.

  He traced her
soft lips gently with his tongue, begging her to open for him so he could taste her fully, feel her heat.

  She did, her own tongue darting out to touch his delicately, tentatively.

  Her timidity was more arousing than any practiced move by an experienced lover.

  He kissed her for a moment longer, then ended the embrace, feeling as though he was losing control too quickly. Damn, he wanted her.

  He looked down at her; her green eyes were hazed with passion, and her sweet lips were still parted.

  Possessiveness fused with his need, making his longing even more intense. He had meant every word he said to her. He planned to make sure she was happy, cared for, safe. And for some reason he couldn’t understand, he knew he needed to keep her safe.

  He supposed it was because she was alone in the world. Still, something niggled at the back of his brain. He couldn’t figure out what-but it didn’t matter; he’d be there for Jane. Forever.

  He reached up behind his neck and captured one of her hands that were still around his neck. Linking her small fingers through his, he led her to the carpet in front of the fire.

  “Sit,” he said with mock sternness. “I have something for you.”

  She obeyed, curling her legs under herself, watching him with curious eyes.

  He went over to the table and retrieved a rectangular, green velvet box.

  He seated himself down beside her, stretching his long legs out in front of him, then held out the box.

  She frowned at it, her eyes darkened with confusion. “Rhys, what is this?”

  He smiled wryly. “Well, you have to open it to discover that.” He offered it to her again.

  She still hesitated, but then took the box. She glanced at him again, before she opened the lid. Her eyes widened. She shook her head, trying to shove the case back at him.

  “No, Rhys,” she said adamantly. “No. I can’t accept this.”

  Rhys chuckled at her shaken expression. “Of course you can. You are precisely who was intended to accept it.”

  His mother had left him several pieces of jewelry that were to be given to his wife one day. He had never really thought about them over the years, but now, he wanted this woman to have the heirlooms.