The Devil Who Tamed Her

by Johanna Lindsey

  Later this afternoon would be soon enough to continue with that long list of transgressions Raphael had mentioned. Last night had been painful enough. She didn’t like being reminded of her regrets. She didn’t have many, but those she did have made her sad, and she hated being sad. Was that what he was hoping for? That she’d be sad and miserable and—voilà!—she’d be a changed woman? She snorted to herself.

  But their first foray into her supposed wickedness hadn’t been as bad as she’d thought it would be. She’d decided to be truthful. She wasn’t always. She didn’t see that as a flaw, but as a convenience, since the truth rarely worked for her. But lies always did. It was a habit she’d picked up from her “friends” since they were never truthful with her, always pandering to her and telling her what they thought she wanted to hear. Besides, if she’d ever been truthful with them, they would have been so insulted they would have gone away for good, and false friends were better than no friends at all she’d long ago concluded.

  She was amazed, though, that she’d decided to be truthful with Raphael. She wasn’t even sure why, other than that he seemed a bit more astute than most people she met, making her suspect that he’d see through any lies she might offer. Not that she needed to offer any. She had flaws. Everyone did. That hers governed some of her behavior wasn’t exactly something she could help. But she’d admit to them, and that bloody well better be enough to get her out of here.

  Sadie had been right, she discovered when she stepped outside and closed the front door behind her. It wasn’t the air that was frigid, though, but a slight wind, which she probably wouldn’t have felt if the sun were shining. But the sun hadn’t made an appearance yet to melt anything. It was firmly tucked behind a solid sheet of dark clouds that predicted more snow.

  She scowled at the shoveled walkway leading up to the door and around to the right where the stable was. The caretaker was doing his job, no doubt. Tucking her hands into her muff, she carefully moved through the snow that hadn’t been disturbed, off to the left side of the house. Now here was a view she had to admit was lovely.

  No other buildings were on this side of the house that the dining room and parlor looked out on, just a lot of barren trees looking much prettier now with their branches coated with white, and a few piney bushes and trees, still quite green, drooping with the snow clinging to them. And her footsteps.

  She grinned as she made several large circles of footsteps around the trees, then stopped to stare off at the rolling hills, all beautifully white. It was almost blinding, the snow was so pristine and undisturbed, the air so brisk.

  She took a deep breath, then gasped it out when she felt something hit her back. She thought it must be a bird, though there weren’t many left at this time of year. But the poor thing could be half-frozen and unable to fly accurately. She turned around, expecting to find it lying on the ground by her feet—and caught sight of Raphael forming another snowball in his hands.

  She stared at him openmouthed. That wicked grin he was wearing spoke for itself. The very idea, deliberately throwing a snowball at her! How utterly childish.

  “Are you mad?” she called out, then immediately shrieked as the second wad of snow flew past her head.

  She ducked behind the bush next to her, indignant—and yet determined to get even. She shook off her muff and gathered a big scoop of snow, packing it firmly before she straightened up and let it fly in his direction. She scored a hit! White splattered on the side of his chest all across the greatcoat he had on. She hooted with laughter, only to get a mouthful of snow. She sputtered and ducked down again. His aim was too bloody on the mark, but she’d already proven hers wasn’t that bad, and at least she had cover from the bush. He was boldly standing out there, probably thinking she’d merely gotten lucky with that hit. She’d show him!

  She laughed again as she wound up to throw her second snowball. He’d just been waiting for her to show her head! His third snowball knocked her cap off. Perhaps hiding behind a bush wasn’t such a good idea after all, since she couldn’t see what he was doing. She decided a hit-and-run approach might serve her better.

  She peeked over the bush, ducked his next missile, immediately stood up to launch her own, then ran. And ran. She slipped, she slid, she ran some more, laughing all the while.

  She felt two more snowballs hit her back before she heard him call out, “Coward!”

  She turned around to give him a brilliant smile. “Come closer—if you dare!” she taunted back.

  “So it’s to be like that, is it?”

  He started toward her. She quickly scooped up more snow and lobbed it at him, then ran again, but not before she’d seen white splatter on his forehead and down his cheeks. She laughed delightedly and spared a moment to scoop up another ball, but shrieked again when she glanced up and saw that he’d narrowed the space between them too much. His damn long legs!

  With a laugh she ran off, but he dove at her and didn’t miss. They both hit the snow and slid across the ground quite a few feet. She had to gasp for breath, she was laughing so hard.

  The kiss was so unexpected, it took her a few moments to realize that it was his lips that were warming hers. She was shocked, just long enough for her to actually experience that kiss to the fullest—before she got indignant over it. It felt nice. Even nicer was the thrill that shot through her because of it. Like butterflies fluttering around in her belly, and she’d never felt anything quite like it.

  Quite naturally, her arms slipped about his shoulders. If she had felt the cold before, she certainly didn’t now with Raphael’s large body on top of hers. Steam from their mingled breath warmed the rest of her face, making her realize his lips were quite hot as they moved seductively over hers. Her breasts tightened, tingling. Her toes curled in her boots. Heat seemed to be spreading all over her as her blood began to race swiftly through her limbs.

  That might have continued indefinitely if he hadn’t got carried away and slipped his icy fingers along her neck. The shock of the sudden cold brought her indignation straight to the fore. She pushed away from him and stumbled to her feet, dusting off some of the snow that clung to her velvet coat. She was covered in it everywhere, of course, but that was to be expected and was not what had her bristling.

  “I knew that’s what this was all about,” she said in an aha! tone. “You could have just asked me to marry you. My parents would be thrilled, no doubt.”

  “But you wouldn’t be?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “And you might want to stop making guesses that are even more ridiculous, when I merely wanted to see if you tasted as sour as you always sound.”

  She stared at him still lying there on the ground in such a casual pose that he could have been comfortably stretched out on a sofa. She started to frown, then raised a brow at him instead.

  “Do I taste sour?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” he said with a grin.

  Good God, he was teasing her! No one ever teased her. The holier-than-thou attitude she’d worked so hard to achieve made sure of that. But then no one had ever thrown snowballs at her either.

  She’d just enjoyed herself too much to have it end on this bad note, so she took a moment to examine her response and realized that she shouldn’t have gotten nearly as huffy as she just had over a mere kiss that obviously meant nothing. He was an admitted rake, after all, probably quite used to doing things like that.

  “I scored more hits than you did,” she said with a little grin of her own, her way of admitting she’d overreacted, an unspoken apology, as it were.

  “You did not!” He laughed and got to his feet. “But you were pretty good at that. You must have had a lot of practice as a child.”

  She went very still. “No, there was never anyone willing to play with me in the snow.”

  The amusement left him as well. “I hope you’re lying, Phelia.”

  “Yes, of course,” she agreed just to get him off the subject.

  “You weren’t,
were you?”

  “I warned you not to go there, so don’t!”

  She walked off. The interlude had ended on a bad note after all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  H ER LAUGHTER HAD CARRIED ON the wind to him. Raphael had a feeling he’d never forget the sound of it, or that particular experience with Ophelia today.

  Throwing that first snowball at her had been a complete impulse on his part. He’d been finishing his breakfast when he saw her taking a walk and decided to go out and join her. What followed certainly hadn’t been premeditated.

  He’d barely recognized her today. Such an amazing difference between the woman who’d thrown snowballs back at him, and the woman that everyone hated. It hadn’t been contrived. He was absolutely sure her behavior had been nothing but spontaneous. She wasn’t trying to fool him into thinking that he’d miraculously “changed” her. She’d merely shown him yet another side to her that no one else ever saw—a playful side that had been delightful.

  While he didn’t regret his first impulse, he would probably regret the second one. Kissing her had been foolish. It had given her the wrong impression, while it had been no more than a natural inclination on his part. Her lips had been close, her laughter ringing in the air, and she was so damn beautiful. There was simply no way he could have resisted. But wanting to see if she tasted sour? What a whopper! He could at least have come up with a better excuse than that and would have if he hadn’t been so bemused by that kiss.

  He found her alone in the parlor, standing in front of the window that looked out on the side yard. Quite a mess they’d made out there during their snow fight. Their tracks were everywhere, and the deep indent where they’d slid across the snow when he tackled her—was she thinking about the fun they’d had, or about that kiss they’d shared? Actually, it was a bit conceited of him to imagine she was thinking of him now.

  What did she usually think about when she was alone? Bloody hell, he was getting much too curious about her and things that had nothing to do with the reason he’d brought her there.

  “Are you ready for those coals again?” he said lightly by her side.

  She wasn’t startled by his presence; she must have heard him approach. And she didn’t need to ask what he was talking about. “Being raked over coals” had been her own remark.

  But he did hear the sigh and her tone was rather forlorn as she said, “By all means.”

  Guilt! It rose up and nearly choked him as he watched her walk toward the sofa with drooped shoulders. What the devil? How could he possibly feel guilty for trying to help her? She was going to benefit from his efforts, not him—well, he’d win his bet with Duncan, but that was so minor in the scheme of things now, when he’d more recently come to realize that he simply wanted to help her. Something had made her the way she was and perhaps he ought to add finding out what it was to the agenda.

  He joined her on the same sofa, noting that she moved away from him as he sat down. “I don’t bite, you know,” he said with a degree of annoyance.

  “Actually, I believe you do.”

  “Was that in reference to kissing you, or raking you over hot coals?”

  “Both.” She poured herself a cup of tea from the tray on the table. A basket of sweets was there as well, but she didn’t even glance at it.

  “I’ll take a cup of that.”

  “Pour your own,” she retorted.

  Much better. A forlorn Ophelia was as bad as seeing her in tears. Quite out of his league.

  He did pour his own tea, and just to make sure she didn’t throw him off with any more sighs, he remarked, “I’ll leave those pastries for you. You’re too skinny.”

  She hadn’t really looked at him yet, but she certainly did now. “I am not!”

  “And you’re too pale,” he added for good measure. “You’ve got no color in your skin.”

  “As it should be.”

  “I would have thought you’d want to be at your best.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the way I look. I’m so damned beautiful it’s disgusting.”

  Whoa. Take a step back. Did he hear that right? And in such a bitter tone?

  “Yes, quite,” he agreed jauntily. “Very disgusting. Extraordinarily so.”

  She narrowed her blue eyes on him. “You needn’t belabor it.”

  “Was I? Beg pardon. Let’s discuss another one of the rumors you started then.”

  If he’d thought to put her off guard by tossing that out there so abruptly, it didn’t work. She sat back and looked nothing but curious now. “Yes, please do, since I don’t recall starting any others.”

  “I believe your friend, or rather, ex-friend would disagree. What was it Mavis said you spread about her? That she was a liar and a backstabber?”

  “No, she called me a backstabber. I merely called her a liar in front of Jane and Edith, our mutual friends. She provoked me one time too many. My temper snapped. But it went no further than that. I knew Jane and Edith wouldn’t repeat it. They happen to like Mavis.”

  “But not you?”

  She glanced away from him. “I know you overheard that second conversation between Mavis and me. No, Jane and Edith have never really been my friends. They pretend to be, but they aren’t.”

  “That bothers you?”

  “Hardly. I don’t want people to like me. I tend to make sure they don’t.”

  That statement was so bizarre, it rendered him speechless for a moment. Of course he didn’t believe it. But why would she even say it? A defensive excuse?

  He pointed out the obvious to her: “No one goes out of their way to be disliked—deliberately. It’s against human nature.”

  She merely shrugged as she glanced at him again. “If you say so.”

  She wasn’t going to argue her case? Quite annoyed with this new indifferent attitude of hers, he said, “Very well, for what conceivable reason would you deliberately alienate your friends?”

  “So I don’t have to wonder if they’re sincere when I’m sure they aren’t.”

  “You don’t trust anyone? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I suppose that includes me?”

  He was actually hoping for a denial, though he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t get it.

  “Of course it does. Like everyone else, you’ve lied to me.”

  “The devil I have,” he said indignantly. “I’ve been completely honest—”

  Her snort cut him off. “You told me you were driving me to London, not in so many words, but you certainly implied it. That wasn’t lying?”

  He flushed with color, guilty as charged. “That was an exception, merely to avoid your theatrics until we got here.”

  “Oh, I see. That it prevented me from finding help until you got me to this place, which is so remote there is none, was merely a bonus? But one exception or a dozen, what’s the difference? I rest my case.”

  His flush got a little darker. “I apologize for misleading you for mere convenience, but I won’t apologize for trying to help you.”

  “You don’t need to apologize for lying, either. And certainly not for the sake of convenience. I do so quite often myself.”

  “Is this flaw number three?”

  “No, I’m not a compulsive liar. If I lie about something, it’s quite deliberate. My flaws—my impatience and my temper—I have no control over, lying I do.”

  “You don’t see that as a bad trait?”

  “Don’t be a hypocrite and say you do.”

  “Actually I do, but I suppose therein lies the difference between us. I prefer to be honest, you seem to prefer dishonesty.”

  “I don’t prefer it,” she retorted, then admitted, “I even used to feel guilty about it.”

  “What changed that?”

  “Everyone around me lying to me. That’s actually why Mavis was the only real friend I ever had. She was the only one, out of all of them, that I could trust to be honest with me—at least she was up until I hurt her.”<
br />
  “Would you like to discuss that?” he asked carefully.

  “No.”

  She wasn’t going to say any more. And now that she’d admitted that she had no qualms whatsoever about lying, he had to wonder if she’d been at all truthful with him about anything so far. It was a daunting thought. If she’d decided to lie to get back to London…

  “I didn’t deliberately hurt Mavis,” she started to tell him, then burst out, “Oh, God, you see!”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “That’s my third flaw.”

  She had him utterly confused now. “What is?”

  “That I can’t keep my mouth shut! It’s ridiculous, how I react to silence!”

  He started to laugh. “You see that as a flaw?”

  “Of course it is,” she said, annoyed. “How would you feel if you had a nice story to relate and you wanted to draw it out, but when met with a little silence, you got right to the point? It totally ruins what could otherwise have been quite an entertaining anecdote.”

  He was definitely laughing now. “As flaws go, that’s a bloody minor one, m’dear.”

  “I don’t happen to think so,” she replied indignantly.

  “You had a story to relate?”

  “No, I just used that as an example. It happens when I don’t want to discuss something too.”

  “Ah, I see. Good to know.” He grinned. “But let’s get back to Mavis.”

  “Let’s don’t.”

  “Need I be silent again?”

  She glared at him. He managed to resist laughing this time. Like his sister, Amanda, Ophelia was proving to be too easy to tease. But the new subject he was going to introduce was sobering.

  “Mavis said you’ve ruined lives. Was that statement broader than it should have been?”

  “Not at all. I’m sure many of the men I’ve turned down think their lives are ruined because of it. Duncan was the only one who thought the opposite, that marrying me would have been a fate worse than hell. I thought the same thing, after his grandfather pointed out what drudgery living at Summers Glade was going to be.”