Page 44 of Snowbound with the Scoundrel
Rupert moved slowly, giving her a chance to protest, a chance to say no.
Clarissa did not say no.She found she was giddy to have an excuse to kiss Rupert Dupree.
And maybe it was the fact that it was her first kiss.Maybe it was the way he stroked his thumb across her forehead as he brought his hands up to frame her face, as if he treasured the experience of touching her.Maybe it was the way he was looking at her, with a mixture of longing and sorrow.Maybe it was the way his breath hitched in the moment before his lips brushed hers.
But his kissruinedher.
It was the sort of closed-mouth, proper-to-a-fault kiss that one exchanged beneath the mistletoe, knowing that a half-dozen gossipy matrons were watching the whole while.And still, Clarissa was shaking like a leaf by the time Rupert lifted his soft, warm lips from hers.
He didn’t seem to be in much better shape, for his breath hitched again.They stood frozen for a moment, inches apart.His lips brushed her forehead, reverently.Almost involuntarily.She felt his breath, shaky against her temple.Then he stepped back, taking her hands.
Clarissa clung to his hands because the room was reeling.
He bowed a little unsteadily.“Miss Weatherby,” he murmured, then released her, heading up the stairs toward his room.
It was fortunate that Lady Emily scurried over and seized her arm, because Clarissa was not entirely certain she could stand on her own.“Oh, mygracious!”Lady Emily hissed.“When he kissed your forehead, I almost swooned.I think Rupert must like you!Do you like him, too?”
“I… I…” Clarissa swallowed.“I need to lie down.”
“I’ll take that as ayes.”Lady Emily hooked her arm through Clarissa’s and led her up the stairs.
Lady Emily somehow guided a shaky-legged Clarissa to her bedchamber.She encouraged Clarissa to kick off her slippers and helped her climb onto the bed.
Sitting on the mattress beside her, Lady Emily smiled.“Don’t you worry.I’m going to take care ofeverything.”
“Take care of… wait.”Clarissa struggled to push herself up.“What are you going to do?”
Lady Emily was already halfway out the door.“Leave everything to me!”
Clarissa groaned as she flopped back down on the pillow.If she left Lady Emily to her own devices, she would find herself betrothed to Rupert by sunset.
Strangely, the prospect didn’t feel all that alarming.
She lay on her back, staring at the bed’s yellow canopy.Her thoughts were still a swirling mess.This did not bode well, considering she had an M.P.to protect and a would-be murderer to identify.
For some reason, the words rattling around inside her head were her own, the ones Rupert had quoted back at her in the orangery.He’s supposed to be a blithering idiot, from everything I hear.What could Lady Milthorpe have been thinking?I would never consider such a man for my husband, not if he were the last man on earth.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something about those words, something she felt sure she was missing…
She sat up upon the bed as it came to her.The reason those words seemed strange was because they were not a general summary of what she had said about Rupert Dupree two years ago.
Those were theexactwords she had said to Becky.She was almost certain of it.
She rubbed her temple.How had Rupert Dupree, the man everyone dismissed as an idiot, who had just admitted to her that he could barely read, parroted back to her a precise quote two years after the fact?
There was more to that man than met the eye, and they would have a long list of things to discuss at midnight in the library.
Chapter20
Oliver Baxter had apparently decided that there was no point in hiding in his rooms, because Clarissa was seated next to him at dinner that night.Rosalind Baxter looked pale and drawn, but she appeared at the table as well and was seated next to Lord Helmsley.
Clarissa gave Oliver a tight smile.She wasn’t much looking forward to being his dining partner, but she was determined to be cordial.“The lobster bisque is excellent,” she observed.“Would you like some?”
“I would not.I have an unpleasant reaction to shellfish.”
“Do you?”Clarissa asked, taking a sip of her wine.“I have not heard of that before.What does it entail?”
His expression was bored.“My lips swell, my throat constricts, and my skin becomes itchy.I never touch the stuff.”
