Free A Rake's Vow by Stephanie Laurens Page B

she could hardly blame Gerrard for choosing Vane to emulate. He was the dominant male.
    As if sensing her regard, he turned. One brow quirked, then, inherently graceful, he offered her his arm. Patience steeled herself and took it. As a group, they walked to the house; Edmond left them at the side door. They climbed the main stairs, then Gerrard and Henry turned aside, heading for their rooms. Still on Vane’s arm, Patience strolled into the gallery. Her room was down the same corridor as Minnie’s. Vane’s was on the floor below.
    There wasn’t any point voicing her disapproval unless there was a real need. Patience paused in the archway leading from the gallery, from where they would go their separate ways. Drawing her hand from Vane’s arm, she looked up, into his face. “Are you planning a long stay?”
    He looked down at her. “That,” he stated, his voice very low, “depends largely on you.”
    Patience looked into his grey eyes—and froze. Every muscle was paralyzed, all the way to her toes. The idea that he was amusing himself, without any real intent, died—slain by the look in his eyes.
    The intent in his eyes.
    It couldn’t have been clearer had he put it into words.
    Bravely, drawing on an inner reserve she hadn’t known she possessed, she lifted her chin. And forced her lips to curve, just enough for a cool smile. “I think you’ll find you’re mistaken.”
    She uttered the words softly, and saw his jaw lock. A premonition of intense danger swept her; she didn’t dare say anything more. With her smile still in place, she haughtily inclined her head. Sweeping about, she passed through the arch and into the safety of the corridor beyond.
    Narrow-eyed, Vane watched her go, watched her hips sway as she glided along. He remained in the archway until she reached her door. He heard it shut behind her.
    Slowly, very slowly, his features eased, then a Cynster smile tugged at his lips. If he couldn’t escape fate, then, ipso facto , neither could she. Which meant she would be his. The prospect grew more alluring by the minute.

Chapter 5

    I t was time to act.
    Later that evening, waiting in the drawing room for the gentlemen to reappear, Patience found it increasingly difficult to live up to her name; inside, she mentally paced. Beside her, Angela and Mrs. Chadwick, occupying a settee, were discussing the best trim for Angela’s new morning gown. Nodding vaguely, Patience didn’t even hear them. She had weightier matters on her mind.
    A dull ache throbbed behind her temples; she hadn’t slept well. Worries had consumed her—worry over the increasingly pointed accusations aimed at Gerrard, worry over Vane Cynster’s influence on her impressionable brother.
    Added to that, she now had to cope with the distraction occasioned by her odd reaction to Vane Cynster, “elegant gentleman.” He’d affected her from the first; when she’d finally succumbed to sleep, he’d even followed her into her dreams.
    Patience narrowed her eyes against the ache behind them.
    “I think the cerise braid would be much more dashing.” Angela threatened a pout. “Don’t you think so, Patience?”
    The gown they were discussing was palest yellow. “I think,” Patience said, summoning up what she could of that virtue, “that the aquamarine ribbon your mother suggested would be much more the thing.”
    Angela’s pout materialized; Mrs. Chadwick promptly warned her daughter of the unwisdom of courting wrinkles. The pout magically vanished.
    Drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair, Patience frowned at the door and returned to her preoccupation—to rehearsing her warning to Vane Cynster. It was the first time she’d had to warn any male off—she would much rather she didn’t have to start now, but she couldn’t let things go on as they were. Quite aside from her promise to her mother, tendered on her deathbed, that she would always keep Gerrard safe, she simply couldn’t countenance Gerrard getting hurt in