A Rake's Vow (Cynster 2)

Eyes narrowed, Patience looked up; Vane was watching her, a cool smile of ineffable male superiority etched on his too-fascinating lips. She narrowed her eyes to slits. "You will never live this down."

The curve of his lips deepened. "You're not uncomfortable. Just sit still for the next hour." His gaze sharpened. "It'll do your knee good."

Patience gritted her teeth. "I'm not some infant who needs to be restrained!"

"On the contrary it's clear you need someone to exercise some control over you. You heard Mrs. Henderson-four full days. Your four days is up tomorrow."

Astounded, Patience stared at him. "And just who appointed you my keeper?"

She caught his gaze, held the contact defiantly-and waited. His eyes narrowed. "I feel guilty. I should have sent you back to the house as soon as I found you in the ruins."

All expression drained from Patience's face. "You wish you'd sent me back to the house?"

Vane frowned. "I feel guilty because you were following me when you got hurt."

Patience humphed and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "You told me it was my fault for not staying where you'd told me to stay. Anyway, if Gerrard at seventeen is old enough to be responsible for his own actions, why would it be otherwise with me?"

Vane looked down at her; Patience felt sure she'd won her point. Then he raised an arrogant brow. "You're the one with the wrenched knee. And the twisted ankle."

Patience refused to surrender. "My ankle's fine." She put her nose in the air. "And my knee's just a bit stiff. If I could test it-"

"You can test it tomorrow. Who knows?" Vane's expression hardened. "You might need an extra day or two's rest after today's excitement."

Patience narrowed her eyes. "Don't," she advised, "even suggest it."

Vane raised both brows, then, turning away, prowled to the window. Patience watched him, and tried to locate the anger she felt sure she should feel. It simply wasn't to be found. Stifling a disaffected humph, she settled more comfortably. "So what did you discover in Northampton?"

He glanced back, then fell to prowling back and forth between the windows. "Gerrard and I made the acquaintance of a very helpful individual-the Northampton Guild-master, so to speak."

Patience frowned. "Of which guild?"

"The guild of moneylenders, thieves, and rogues-assuming there is one. He was intrigued with our investigations and amused enough to be helpful. His contacts are extensive. After two hours of consuming the best French brandy-at my expense, of course-he assured us no one had recently attempted to sell any items of the sort we're seeking."

"Do you think he's reliable?"

Vane nodded. "There was no reason for him to lie. The items, as he so succinctly put it, are of insufficient quality to attract his personal interest. He's also well-known as'the man to contact.'"

Patience grimaced. "You'll check Kettering?"

Still pacing, Vane nodded.

Watching him, Patience conjured her most innocent expression. "And what did Mrs. Chadwick and Angela do while you and Gerrard met with this Guildmaster?"

Vane stopped pacing. He looked at Patience-studied her. His expression was unreadable. Eventually, he said, "I haven't the faintest idea."

His voice had altered, a subtle undercurrent of awakened interest sliding beneath the suave tones. Patience opened her eyes wide. "You mean Angela didn't tell you every last detail on the drive back?"

With long, languid strides, Vane came toward her. "She traveled-both ways-in the carriage."

Vane reached the edge of the daybed. His eyes gleamed with a predator's satisfaction. He leaned nearer-

"Patience? Are you awake?"

A peremptory knock was followed immediately by the sound of the latch lifting.

Patience swung around-as far as she could. Vane straightened; as the door opened, he reached the back of the daybed. Before he could tug the knotted scarf loose, Angela breezed in.

"Oh!" Angela stopped, eyes widening with delight. "Mr. Cynster! Perfect! You must give us your opinion of my purchases."