Bexley-Smythe Quintet 02 - Rhyme and Reason by Catherine Gayle Page A

inside?”
    She jumped, allowing both the golden piece in her hand and her candlestick to crash to the floor. The drop extinguished the candle, thank the lord, but it left them in total darkness. He’d caught sight of her huge, brown eyes in that brief moment of surprise, though, wide as cannon balls and as expressive as he’d ever seen.
    Her expression wasn’t nearly as amusing and intriguing as the curse that came from her lips just then. “You ought to give a lady some warning instead of coming upon her unawares like that.”
    He imagined her holding her hands upon her hips in an action reminiscent of a willful governess. The image did nothing to quell the sudden lustful urges he’d acquired. Damn, but something would have to be done about that.
    Preston gritted his teeth, as though that could somehow put a block on his desire. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time I discover a lady handling something of mine in an unused room where she oughtn’t to be, particularly when the lady in question should be upstairs in her bed.”
    Taking cautious steps in the dark, he moved closer to the center of the room. His thigh brushed against the table, so he stopped and bent over to retrieve her discarded items. For a long moment, his hand swiped fruitlessly through the air, only making purchase with the legs of the table. He shifted closer and tried again.
    She harrumphed, but then squeaked in shock when he grabbed what he’d hoped was the warm candlestick but in reality was her ankle. As soon as he realized what he’d taken hold of he tried to release her.
    He wasn’t fast enough.
    She jerked back, pulling the both of them toward her in such an awkward manner he toppled onto her.
    In attempting to brace himself in order to prevent crushing her beneath his weight, his hand fell upon the golden top of the reliquary which she’d dropped, which hurt like the dickens. He did manage, at least, to hold most of his body aloft.
    “If you do not remove yourself from my person right this instant, I’ll scream.”
    Based on the unwavering sincerity in her voice, Preston didn’t doubt her threat for a moment. And since the very last thing in the world he wanted to happen was to be trapped into a marriage—any marriage—he rolled away as fast as he could…then bit back a curse, as he’d rolled over the candlestick she’d dropped. The silver bit into his back, causing an excruciating new form of torment he would have sooner gone his entire life without knowing.
    He tried to catch his breath and roll further to alleviate the pain. The skirts of Lady Frederica’s gown were trapped beneath him. She tugged just as he’d almost come free of the candlestick, which forced him fully back onto it. His intake of breath came as a hiss.
    “Off! Get off my gown!” Her voice had risen to a dangerous pitch already. They would hear her if he didn’t silence her.
    “God’s teeth, woman, be still.” Somehow amidst all her flailing, Preston managed to extricate himself and move away, taking care to remove both the candlestick and the top of the reliquary as he did so. After placing them both on the table, lest she take it upon herself to use either of them against him, he reached down to assist her. “Give me your hand.”
    “I’d sooner plant you a facer.”
    Why must the females of the species conspire against him so? He was merely trying to be of assistance, yet she was reacting as though he’d been attempting to ravish her. With a beleaguered sigh, he bent at the waist and bodily lifted her to her feet, setting her well away from him and even further away from the table full of potentially dangerous items.
    “I’m sure if we spend enough time in one another’s company,” he said as calmly as he could manage, “you’ll likely do precisely that. But for now, I’m sure you wouldn’t care to explain to your mother and my brother-in-law just why I might be spouting blood from the nose when we both ought to be in our respective