Hello Stranger (The Ravenels 4)

Ethan broke the kiss with a muted growl, the heat of his breath collecting in her ear as he bit gently at her earlobe. Embers caught low inside her and spread heat to every tender place in her body. She was light-headed, weak—every heartbeat riding on a hard-coursing breath.

Ethan’s head lifted abruptly. One of his fingers came to rest gently against her lips.

Garrett was silent, trying to hear over the roar in her ears.

Footsteps, and echoes of footsteps, rose from the depths of the stairwell. She heard the rattle of glass and porcelain, the grunts of effort as a servant carried a heavy-laden tray up from the kitchen.

Garrett’s heart clattered to a halt as she realized she was about to be caught in a scandalous embrace in a servants’ stairwell. But Ethan nudged her farther into the corner and blocked her with his much larger form. She leaned into the concealment of his chest, her fingers clamping on the edges of his coat lapel.

The footsteps came nearer, then halted.

“Don’t mind us,” Ethan said over his shoulder, sounding relaxed. “We won’t tarry long.”

“Yes, sir.” The footman walked past them.

Ethan waited until the servant had left the stairwell before he murmured against Garrett’s hair, his breath stirring the pinned-up curls. “You’re more beautiful every time I see you. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know. It’s Jenkyn’s doing.”

She tilted her head back to look up at him, her face tense with worry, not for herself but for him. “How did he find out we were acquainted?”

“One of his men followed me and saw us at the night market. From now on, Jenkyn will try to use you to manipulate me. He fancies himself a chess master, and all the rest of us pawns. He knows I’d do anything to protect you.”

Garrett blinked at that. “Should we pretend to have a falling-out?”

Ethan shook his head. “He’d see through that.”

“Then what’s to be done?”

“You can start by leaving the soiree. Tell Lady Tatham you have the vapors, and I’ll find a carriage for you.”

Garrett stepped back from him and gave him an indignant glance. “The ‘vapors’ is a term for a hysterical fit. Do you know what it would do to my career if people thought I might succumb to vapors in the middle of a medical procedure? Besides, now that Sir Jasper knows about our mutual attachment, I wouldn’t be any safer at home than I am here.”

Ethan looked at her alertly. “Mutual?”

“Why else would I be lurking with you in a servants’ stairwell?” she asked dryly. “Of course it’s mutual, although I haven’t your pretty way of putting things—”

She would have continued, but his mouth had fastened on hers. His fingers cradled her jaw and cheek as he drew up pleasure from some depthless well inside her. Blindly she clung to his neck and lifted on her toes to make the kiss deeper, stronger.

His chest expanded with a violent breath or two, and then he fumbled to clasp her arms and hold her back. “You have to leave, Garrett,” he said unsteadily.

She tried to gather her wits. “Why can’t I stay?”

“I have something important to do.”

“What is it?”

Unaccustomed to taking anyone into his confidence, Ethan hesitated before replying. “I have to obtain something. Without being noticed by anyone.”

“Including Jenkyn?”

“Especially him.”

“I’ll help you,” Garrett said readily.

“I don’t need help. I need you to be far away from here.”

“I can’t leave. It would look odd, and I have my own reputation to consider. Besides, my presence provides an excuse to slip away and steal whatever it is you’re after. Take me with you, and Sir Jasper will assume we’ve gone somewhere to . . . well, to do what we’re doing right now.”

Ethan’s face might have been carved from granite. But his touch was gentle as he stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “Have you ever heard the expression ‘catching a wolf by the ears’?”

“No.”

“It means you’re in trouble whether you hold on or let go.”

Garrett nuzzled her cheek against his hand. “If you’re the wolf, then I’ll hold on.”

Recognizing the impossibility of sending her away, Ethan uttered a quiet curse and pulled her so close that her heels were suspended from the floor. His mouth found her neck, and did something between a kiss and a bite, very gentle but with the edges of his teeth. The flat of his tongue stroked her, and she gasped at the corresponding throb down between her thighs.

“Tonight I’m Edward Randolph,” she heard him say quietly. “A builder from Durham.”

It took Garrett a moment to understand. Gamely she entered into the pretense. “Why have you come all the way from Durham, Mr. Randolph?”

“To persuade a few members of Parliament to vote against a bill on building regulations. And while I’m in town, I’m taking in the sights of London.”

“What do you most want to see? The Tower? The British Museum?”

His head lifted. “I’m looking at it,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a few searing seconds before he took her into the refreshments room.

Chapter 12

Relentless noises slurried the air: conversation; laughter; the creaking of the floor underfoot; the clinks of silver, porcelain, and glass; the rattling of trays, the snapping of fans. Guests surrounded the long tables in the effort to obtain lemonade or ices. As a footman entered the room bearing a tray of desserts, Ethan reached out to snatch one before the servant reached his destination. The movement was so deft and quick that the footman hadn’t even noticed it.

Drawing Garrett to a corner where a tall feather palm occupied a terra-cotta pot, Ethan handed the glass dish to her. It contained a frosty mound of lemon ice, with a tiny mother-of-pearl demitasse spoon tucked at the side.

Garrett received it gratefully and took a bite of the tart, icy fluff. It melted on her tongue instantly, luscious thin coldness sliding down her throat.

A sense of unreality drifted over her as she stared up into Ethan Ransom’s face. The severe perfection of his appearance was slightly unnerving.

After taking another bite of lemon ice, she asked hesitantly, “How have you been since we last met?”

“Well enough,” Ethan said, although his expression conveyed he hadn’t been well at all.

“I tried to imagine what you were doing, but I have no idea what your typical day is like.”

He seemed vaguely amused by that. “I don’t have typical days.”

Garrett tilted her head as she looked up at him. “Would you mind if you did? That is, would you dislike keeping to a regular schedule?”

“It would help if the job were interesting.”

“What would you do, if you could choose anything?”

“Something in law enforcement, probably.” His gaze swept the room, his expression inscrutable. “I have a hobby I wouldn’t mind spending more time on.”

“Oh?”

“I design locks,” he said.

Garrett regarded him uncertainly. “Are you speaking as Mr. Randolph?”