The Promise in a Kiss (Cynster 0.50)

She held his gaze, then nodded. “And who am I to be?”

“You’re Hubert’s sister, of course.” Sebastian tilted his head, studied her, then pronounced, “Adèle. Yes, that will pass. You’re Adèle de Villandry, and the reason you’re traveling with us is that, after traveling briefly in England over these past months, Phillipe and I passed through London, where, having spent some months with relatives in the English capital, you joined us so we could escort you back to . . .” He trailed off, considering.

“To the convent at Montsurs.” Helena took up their fictitious tale. “I’ve decided to take the veil and was sent to London in a last effort to get me to change my mind.”

Sebastian grinned; reaching out, he squeezed her hand. “Bon. That will do very nicely.”

“But who are you?” she asked.

“Me?” A devilish light danced in his eyes as he laid his hand over his heart and mock-bowed. “I’m Sylvester Ffoliott, an English scholar, the scion of a noble but sadly impoverished family reduced to having to make my way in the world. I was hired to conduct Monsieur Hubert on his travels through England and see him back to the de Villandry estate in the Garonne. That is where we—Hubert and I—are heading after we deposit you with the good sisters at Montsurs.”

Both Helena and Phillipe fell silent, imagining, then Helena nodded. “It is possible. It will serve.”

“Indeed. Furthermore, it will explain our hiring of a fast carriage to convey you to Montsurs and then the subsequent return of the carriage while we—Hubert and I—hire horses, the better to see the country as we travel south.”

Phillipe frowned. “Why let the carriage go and switch to horses?”

“Because,” Sebastian replied, “horses will be faster and more useful in fleeing.” He considered Phillipe. “I presume you do ride.”

“Naturellement.”

“Good. Because I don’t expect your uncle to let Ariele—and Helena—slip from his clutches without trying to snatch them back.”

* * *

None of them had expected Fabien to let them go gracefully, yet hearing the fact stated so bluntly established the likelihood more firmly in Helena’s mind.

How would Fabien react—and how would Sebastian defeat him?

Later she stood at the railing looking toward the coast and watched the westering sun edge the storm clouds with fire. As the captain had predicted, the storm had blown itself out, leaving tattered remnants of clouds streaming across the sky. The wind whistled shrilly in the rigging. The sun sank and, with one last fiery flare, drowned in the sea.

The whistling gradually faded as the shadows closed in. Then, with one last, soft exhalation, the wind died.

Helena heard a footstep. Sebastian neared, drew closer to stand just behind her, to one side.

“Soon, mignonne, soon. As soon as the wind picks up again.”

“Perhaps it won’t—not tonight.”

She didn’t see his smile—even if she looked, his face would probably not show it—but she heard it in his voice, in his indulgent tone. “It will. Trust me. These waters are rarely calm.”

He stepped closer; without looking, she leaned back, into his strength, into his warmth. Let herself feel his support and the hope it brought. He reached around her to lock his hands on the railing, caging her before him. Comfortably, securely.

For long moments they simply stood, thoughts and worries both abandoned to the silent beauty of the encroaching night.

“If we do get in this night, what then?”

“We’ll hire rooms at a good inn and arrange for a carriage. We’ll leave as early as possible in the morning.”

She felt his chest expand as he drew in a breath. “Why not leave tonight?”

“Too much risk for too little gain.”

She frowned.

She felt him glance down at her face. Then he continued, “Driving fast over country roads at night is too dangerous, and not just because of the state of the roads. It’ll draw attention to us, and that may not be helpful. As for the gain—if we leave here tonight, we’ll arrive there by midday tomorrow. That’s dangerous, too. Arriving so close to Le Roc in daylight, we run the risk of someone’s recognizing you and mentioning your presence to Fabien. I need hardly point out that that will not do.”

Helena grimaced. Lean