Название: Fangs For The Memories
Автор: Kathy Love
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Эротическая литература
isbn: 9780758250803
isbn:
“I’m Jane.” So this man was related to Rhys. They must come from one amazing gene pool.
“Is that my crazy brother yelling?”
Jane nodded, wondering exactly how crazy he was talking.
“Sebastian,” Rhys said, striding down the hall toward them. His eyes dropped to where she and Sebastian still held hands. His eyes narrowed, and Jane pulled her hand out of Sebastian’s hold, feeling guilty. Rhys probably thought she was easy as it was; she didn’t want him to think she was moving on to his brother.
But instead of being suspicious of her, he turned his attention to Sebastian. “I would be careful, brother. I do not intend to share my woman.”
Heat sizzled through Jane’s belly at his possessiveness. But she immediately admonished herself. She shouldn’t be enjoying this. She had no idea what was going on—and Rhys was clearly not acting normal.
“Especially since she is now, very likely anyway, my wife and thus your sister,” Rhys added, smiling down at her as if he was quite pleased with that idea.
Not normal at all.
Sebastian turned to stare at Jane.
She gave him a weak smile.
Sebastian frowned back at his brother, and Jane changed her initial opinion. He could look as intense as Rhys. “Rhys, what the hell are you talking about?”
“This is Jane Harrison.” Rhys came to stand beside her. “The lady to which I have been betrothed.”
When Sebastian just stared at him. Rhys clarified, “From America.”
When his brother still didn’t speak, Rhys turned to her. “I am sorry. Sebastian is often considered the gregarious member of the family. But apparently today he is—”
“Freaked out,” Sebastian suggested.
Rhys shot his brother a puzzled look. “Freaked out?” He said the words as if that phrase was totally unfamiliar to him, but then he smiled at Jane apologetically. “I should also add that while he is gregarious, Sebastian often says things which are best just disregarded.”
Sebastian didn’t respond, although his facial expression said the same thing he’d already voiced. His brows were drawn together, and his hazel eyes were opened very wide. He looked—freaked out.
That had to be a good sign; if Rhys was truly insane, then presumably Sebastian would not be unnerved by this behavior. Right? She hoped so.
“Rhys,” he finally said. “I think Jane would probably like to have some…tea. Tea and—kippers. So I’ll take her to the kit—dining room and get her settled. Then I will talk to you about all this—amazing news.”
Rhys debated, then nodded. He touched Jane’s cheek, his fingers gentle, his thumb close to the fullness of her lower lip. “Will you be all right? My brother is relatively harmless.”
She nodded, fighting the urge to nuzzle her face against his large hand. She was truly pathetic. Any sane person would be running. Maybe she was the one who was crazy.
He glanced at Sebastian. “Although, he does not know how to dress in front of a lady”—then he cast a wry look at himself and his own state of undress—“but nor do I.”
Sebastian still sported that same muddled, yet concerned look. “I’ll make an effort to be more modest around your—Jane.”
Rhys nodded as if he thought that was a good idea, but Jane noticed he didn’t make the same pledge.
“I will let you and Sebastian get acquainted.”
“The dining room is this way,” Sebastian said, gesturing down the hallway.
Jane followed him, looking back over her shoulder once. Rhys still stood in the center of the hallway, watching her. A look laden with desire and something very like wonder made his amber eyes seem to glow.
Again her insides did a little flip.
This was ridiculous. She should not be reacting to Rhys this way. She didn’t know him. She didn’t remember how they’d ended up back together—and in bed.
Yes, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, but she had to be sensible. And sensible women didn’t have relationships with men who were possibly crazy. Although he hadn’t seemed crazy when he’d saved her. Or when he’d walked her back to her hotel. And Jane knew crazy.
As if he’d been reading her mind, Sebastian said, “My brother isn’t normally a nut.”
He’d led her into a large room with dark wood paneling and two windows hidden behind burgundy velvet drapes. The light in the room came from two elaborate chandeliers dangling over a long, heavy, dark wood table surrounded by a dozen ornately carved chairs with burgundy velvet backs and cushions.
He closed the door behind them.
She turned from surveying the room. “I don’t know your brother very well, but he did save my life last night, and although I can’t remember much else, I know he wasn’t insane.” She couldn’t say why she felt so strongly about that fact, except for maybe because she’d lived with someone not quite sane. Jane’s father hadn’t been certifiable, but he had been a little strange.
“He saved your life?”
“Yes, I didn’t use very good judgment and trusted a man I shouldn’t have. Fortunately Rhys realized this guy was not a nice person. He followed us and…” She took a deep breath. Again, she was so thankful that Rhys had been there. “He stopped the guy from doing something awful. Then he walked me back to the hotel where I am staying, and he left.”
“But he must have come back? Or you went to find him?”
She shook her head. “That’s the thing. I don’t remember seeing him again. I did leave the hotel and head back toward the bar. But I never encountered Rhys. At least not that I can recall.” She frowned, confused. “But I suppose I must have.”
“Yes you were with him again. I mean, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here now.”
His words were obviously true, but there was something about the way he said them that struck her as strange. A certainty that almost implied he knew more than he was saying.
But then he smiled at her, a nice, encouraging smile, and she decided she was reading too much into his simple agreement to her own ponderings.
“Okay, well, let me show you to the kitchen,” he said, leading her through the dining room to another door. “I think we have tea and sugar. There might even be bread and butter or jam or something.”
Jane nodded, thinking that it was odd that he seemed so unsure of what was in his own kitchen. But then maybe he just didn’t cook. Or eat at home.
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