Hello Stranger (The Ravenels, #4)

by Lisa Kleypas

“I’m on a first-name basis with women who’ve done far less to me than that. Son of a bitch!” The profanity burst out as he felt Garrett ease the hollow curved needle into his vein.

“You curse so beautifully,” she heard Ravenel say dryly. “Few women can do it with such natural ease.” “I learned at the Sorbonne,” Garrett said with her hand still over her eyes. “You should hear me curse in French.” “I’d rather not, or I might fall in love with you.

“He hasn’t told you, then. The Ravenels are his family. His father was the old earl. If Ransom hadn’t been born a bastard, he would be Lord Trenear right now, instead of my brother.”

“They won’t find you.” “They’ll come.” Let them try, West had thought, livid as he saw what had been done to his kinsman.

“He wants Dr. Gibson.” “Gibson’s in King’s Cross, isn’t she? We can fetch our family physician far more quickly.” “He doesn’t want her as a doctor,” Kathleen had said softly. “He wants the woman he loves.”

“Me, a man who’s never sea-bathed in his life? A constable, hobnobbing with upper-class toffs, eating dinner off gold dishes and drinking fancy French wine?” “I understand, Papa,” Garrett said. “You don’t have to—” “By Jove, I’ll accept!” he exclaimed heartily.

“Mr. Winterborne, I couldn’t possibly—” “Money doesn’t solve every problem,” he said, “but it never hurts.

Staring down at Ethan’s face, Garrett said, “He expected from the beginning that it would come to this. He thought there was no other possible path for his life to take.” “Perhaps you should prove him wrong,” she heard Winterborne murmur. “I will,” she said. “If I have the chance, I will.”

As the train headed southwest to Hampshire, the subdued grays and blues of London gave way to a palette exploding with brilliant color.

“Whatever the old earl did to Ransom and his mother, I’m sorry for it. But Ransom should know that the abuse was hardly limited to him. Edmund’s children were his favorite victims. Ask any of his daughters—they’ll tell you that living with him was no picnic-party.”

“I’ve missed every turnip, every hay bale, every chicken in the poultry yard, and bee in the box-hives.” “You sound like a born farmer,” Garrett said, amused. “But you’re blue-blooded.”

West considered the question, while the train puffed and clambered resolutely up the incline of a broad hill covered with golden-flowered furze. “I like clearing a new field and hearing the roots crack and watching stumps being pulled under the plow blades.

I like knowing that after I sow three bushels of wheat on an acre, the proper mixture of sun, rain, and manure will yield sixty-four bushels. After having lived in London for so long, I’d reached a point where I needed something to make sense.”

His gaze turned absent and dreamy. “I like living in the seasons. I love the summer storms that come in from the sea, and t...

“This is mine.” Her fingers spread wider over his heart, collecting precious heartbeats as if they were scattered pearls. “You’re mine, you belong to me now.”

“Nothing but a pinch of valerian,” West said calmly. “Which wouldn’t have had nearly this much of an effect if you weren’t ready to drop from exhaustion.” “I’m going to kill you,” she cried. “Yes, but to do that you’ll have to have a nice little rest first, won’t you?”

“There, now,” she heard him murmur. “It’s only for a few hours. When you awaken, you’ll have any revenge you want.” “Going to dissect you,” she sobbed, “into a million pieces—” “Yes,” West soothed, “just think about which instrument you’ll start with. Perhaps that two-sided scalpel with the funny handle.”

He wanted to tell her he’d slipped too far, there was no coming back. But her will was stronger than his weakness.

“. . . as heavy as a Hampshire hog . . . more muscle than other breeds, which is why they weigh more than they look. Take my word for it, you’d be a prizewinning baconer. I mean that as a compliment, by the way.”

“Touch me again,” Ethan growled, “and I’ll kill you with this.” West drew his hand back instantly, his gaze falling to the utensil in Ethan’s grip. “That’s a spoon.” “I know.”

Your fever broke during the night, which will undoubtedly be welcome news when she awakens. In the meantime, I’ve been taking care of you.” West paused. “So far, I preferred it when you were unconscious.”

“If you like, I’ll try to make you presentable before Dr. Gibson sees you. Before you refuse, you should know that your beard is like steel-brush wire, and you smell like an Angora goat—and I know whereof I speak.

“What would be the point? You needed sleep, and I knew he’d be no less alive in the morning.” “You’ll be a damned sight less than alive by the time I’m through with you!” she cried. West lifted his brows, looking smug. “Am I going to begin every day of your visit being showered by death threats from the two of you?”

“Aye, you’re in for a hard time of it now, love. You wanted me, and now you’ll have me.”

A gently exploring hand moved over her back. She melted against him while he crooned softly and cuddled her. Soothering. “I feel superfluous now,” West announced from the doorway.

“Thank you, Ravenel. I’m sorry for the way I behaved when we met before.” West shrugged casually. “There’s family for you: ‘more kin than kind.’”

“Reading Hamlet is too much excitement for you.” “Excitement?” West repeated with a snort. “It’s a play about procrastination.”

“He’s supposed to be resting!” Garrett said in outrage. “He’s still at risk for secondary hemorrhage.” “I was actually more concerned about what he wants with the gun room.”

“Don’t make me out to be the tattletale,” West warned, “or I’ll deny it with a show of great indignation. I don’t want Ransom angry with me.” “He’s in his sickbed,” Garrett said over her shoulder. “What could he do to you?” “The man has been trained to murder people with common household items,” he called after her, and she had to bite back a grin as she walked away.

The earl couldn’t stand either of us. He caught me by the ear on one occasion, and told me I was a bad, wicked lad, and someday he would see to it that I was placed as a cabin boy on a trading vessel bound for China, which would undoubtedly be captured by pirates.” “What did you say?” “I told him I hoped he would do it as soon as possible, because pirates would do a much better job of raising me than my parents.”

“Yes, I’m referring to you,” he said to the crowd of portraits. “The sins of your fathers rained down on you like poison, and you passed it down to your children, and then they did the same. There wasn’t a decent man in the lot of you.”

“Soon after Devon’s son was born, he came to me and said, ‘Someone has to absorb all the poison that’s been passed down through generations, and keep it away from the ones who come after us. It has to stop with me.

“Your brother may be the first earl who’s ever been worthy of the title,” Ethan said. “He didn’t start out that way,” West replied, and laughed.

But everyone needs someone to turn to, and we are your family. You should get to know us. If it helps, I’m the worst of the lot—the rest are all much better than me.” Ethan approached him and extended a hand. “You’ll do well enough for me,” he said gruffly. West grinned at him. When they shook hands, it felt like a promise had been made.

“Now,” Ethan said, “where do you keep the guns?” Ravenel’s brows shot upward. “Ransom, if you don’t mind, I prefer easing into a new topic with a transitional phrase or two.”

Apologetically, Ethan said, “They won’t want to cause unnecessary casualties. All they’ll want is to find me. I’ll surrender myself before I let anyone here get hurt.” “Damned if you will,” West retorted. “The Ravenel family motto is ‘Loyalty binds us.’ I’ll blow the head off of any bastard who threatens one of my kinsmen.”

“Garrett,” Ethan muttered, shoving free of West’s grasp. “Garrett—” “Over there,” West said. “She’s in shock, and she’s holding a cocked pistol, which is making me nervous.” “I’m not in shock,” Garrett said tartly, although she was shaking with full-body tremors. “Furthermore, my finger’s not on the trigger.”

Ethan blinked in surprise. “You fought him?” “I did.” “Single-handedly?” West gave him a sardonic glance. “Yes, Ransom. He may be a trained assassin, but he made the mistake of waking a Ravenel from a sound sleep.”

“We’ll be armed with something far more powerful than bullets,” Garrett told him. West looked at Ethan with mock alarm. “You’re taking the spoon?”

“Better yet if she were educated. A sense of humor would be icing on the cake. Red hair isn’t a requirement, but I do have a fatal weakness for it.” West’s mouth twisted with a self-mocking grin.

“Who is she?” Ethan asked softly. “No one. An imaginary woman.” Averting his gaze, West used the toe of his boot to flick a loose pebble to the side of the drive. “Who happens to despise me,” he muttered.

What kind of a father would tell his son to do that?” “Mine would have loved to order me to kill someone,” West said. “But since I was only five years old, I’m sure my assassination skills were disappointing.”

“Why would Hamlet obey a father who commands him to do something evil? Why doesn’t he ignore the ghost and leave the vengeance to God, and choose his own destiny?” “Probably because if he did, the play would be shortened by about two and a half hours,” West said.

No man is entitled to your blind obedience, no matter what he’s done for you.

“She’s right,” he said. “I’ll have to act now and think later.” “Spoken like a true Ravenel.”

They exchanged grins. The grip of their hands felt warm and solid. Safe. This must be a brotherly feeling, Ethan thought, this sense of camaraderie and connection, this unspoken understanding that they would always take the other’s side.

“One last bit of advice,” West said, finishing the handshake with a hearty squeeze. “The next time someone shoots at you . . . try ducking.”

“Every time you’ve asked that,” Garrett said with exquisite patience, “I’ve said no. Why do you keep doing it?” “I thought it might wear down your resistance.” “No, it’s making me more stubborn.”

“Never tell me that,” Jenkyn snapped, reverting to their usual dynamic. “If I ask a question, it matters.” “I beg your pardon,” Ethan said softly. “I meant to say ‘none of your business.’”

“My aim was at least three inches off,” Garrett said, regarding the iron in her hand with a perturbed frown. “Probably because it’s heavier than my cane.”