By Stephanie Laurens
What may you do for those who have been kissed through the main good-looking stranger you'll ever noticeable? And what if that guy used to be a Cynster?
Every girl—even convent-educated ones—dreams of forbidden kisses. So whilst a guy actually falls at Helena's ft as she's strolling during the courtyard one moonlit Christmas Eve, the gorgeous, younger comtesse d'Lisle understands he is as much as no sturdy. he is essentially a piece dangerous... and clearly stuck in the midst of a clandestine rendezvous. Why else might he have risked his neck and jumped out of a window into the snow?
It's improper, it truly is outlandish . . . and it is the so much completely romantic gesture she's ever noticeable. So whilst the great sisters rush up, not easy to grasp ifshe has noticeable a guy at the grounds, Helena ignores the years of strict upbringing that insist she show his presence.
To lie will be a sin, yet 'no you'll be able to be reliable the entire time.
As a present for her silence, the stranger takes her in his fingers and enticingly, unforgettably kisses her—and then departs, leaving a lingering if unstated promise of all that would be, should still destiny decree that they meet back. even if Helena does not comprehend it, her wild Englishman is Sebastian Cynster, Duke of St. Ives, a nobleman who will turn out to be her destiny.
Seven years later, Helena has been reworked from a gorgeous schoolgirl to an aristocratic good looks. Her gleaming wit has made her wanted by way of London's hostesses; her massive dowry has made successful her hand the purpose of many a gentleman . . . yet she is deadeningly conscious of how boring such a lot of ofthese gents are.
Her manipulative parent has abruptly allowed her to discover a husband of her personal picking out, and she or he has no goal of marrying any guy who attempts to tame her. There has to be somebody excellent for her . . . an individual who can stay as much as the promise ofthat long-ago kiss.
Then, at a ball, destiny moves. once more, it's the Christmas season, and around the crowded room Helena stands transfixed . . . for there's the fellow whose kiss she hasn't ever forgotten, the guy of her reminiscence whom no different has ever been capable of supplant. Her wild, mysterious Englishman, Sebastian Cynster, Duke of St. Ives.
One glance, and he is made up our minds to reclaim her . . . .
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Additional info for The Promise in a Kiss (A Cynster Christmas Special)
And felt Sebastian’s presence materialize like a flame at her again. As she registered the very fact and grew to become to stand him, his palms closed approximately her hand. “Mignonne, you're beautiful. ” She felt the standard jolt as his lips brushed the backs of her hands, used to be momentarily misplaced, adrift within the blue of his eyes, within the heat that shone there, actual appreciation tinged with wish, edging into . . . She blinked, and her awake view expanded—to soak up his gold half-mask, like her personal embossed with laurel leaves. She blinked back, lifted her gaze—took within the gold wreath set amid the burnished brown of his hair. Sucking in a breath, eyes vast, she swept her gaze down—over the white toga edged with gold-embroidered laurel, crowned with the red gown of an emperor. “Who—” She needed to cease to moisten her lips. “Who are you imagined to be? ” He smiled. “Constantius Chlorus. ” He raised her hand back, held her gaze as he grew to become it and pressed his lips to her palm. “Helena’s lover. ” He replaced his carry, touched his lips to her wrist, to the place her pulse raced underneath her epidermis. “Ultimately her husband, the daddy of her son. ” respiring was once more and more tough; Helena attempted to discover her temper—she couldn’t even summon a frown. “How do you know? ” The curve of his lips was once effective. “You don't love being taken with no consideration, mignonne. ” He used to be correct, so correct she desired to scream—or weep, she wasn’t yes which. Being with anyone who knew her—could learn her—so good was once unnerving—and so beautiful. She ultimately controlled a mild frown. “You are a very tough guy to house, Your Grace. ” He sighed, his arms transferring over hers as he diminished her hand. “So i've got usually been informed, mignonne, yet you don’t actually locate me so tricky, do you? ” Her frown grew extra sure. “I’m unsure. ” there has been loads approximately which she was once uncertain whilst it got here to him. He’d been learning her face; now he acknowledged, “I take it Thierry has but to come? ” “He arrived domestic simply as we have been beginning out. he'll doubtless be right here presently. ” “Good. ” She attempted to learn Sebastian’s face. “You desire to speak with him? ” “In a fashion of conversing. Come. ” Sebastian took her hand and drew her on down the room. “Stroll with me. ” She threw him a wondered, just a little suspicious look yet consented to walk by means of his facet. Others had equally stumbled on friends; they have been stopped often as different visitors attempted to wager their identities. “That Neptune is magnificent—and the sunlight King, too. ” “Mme de Pompadour is Therese Osbaldestone, that's whatever of a shock. ” “Did she realize us, do you're thinking that? ” “I anticipate so. little or no misses these black eyes. ” They have been approximately on the finish of the room whilst Sebastian tightened his carry on her hand. He glanced down as she appeared up questioningly. “Mignonne, i must converse with you privately. ” Helena stopped strolling. began to frown. “I cannot—will not—be deepest with you. no longer back. ” He exhaled via his tooth, glanced round, famous how shut others have been. “I can't speak about what I desire to speak about in such surrounds—and it’s impossible to rearrange to satisfy with you privately by means of the other skill.