Heaven Scent

by SpursFanatic

  Inside the library, her father was nowhere to be found. Dr. Kent stood at the shelves perusing her father’s Socrates collection.

  She took a deep breath. If Dr. Kent proved the bearer of bad news, Tarin didn’t know what she would do. She had been working, living for this college for so long, she wouldn’t know life without it.

  “Dr. Kent,” she said with a smile, as she approached him. “What a surprise.”

  Kent turned from the books to greet her. “Good day, Tarin.” He squeezed her hands briefly.

  His smile was warm, his eyes sparkling in male admiration. He wore the finest of frock coats in a dark steel gray, his narrow-cut trousers of the same cloth. His black, bow-tie cravat was tied to perfection.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, stepping away.

  The radiant smile dimmed on his face but did not disappear. Tarin clenched her skirts again.

  Reaching over to the side table, Dr. Kent retrieved a journal. He handed it to her, his smile brighter than before.

  A medical journal. Relief washed over her like a tidal wave. Her sigh blossomed into a smile.

  “A journal, for me?” she asked, sitting in one of the burgundy wing chairs before the fireplace. Her hands smoothed over the leather binding.

  He sat on the edge of the seat across from her. “Yes, I acquired it from a colleague in New York. It’s the latest on wounds, surgery and the use of anesthesia.”

  She held it to her chest. “Thank you, Dr. Kent. You know I will enjoy it immensely.”

  Dr. Kent’s eyes were wide, his smile broad. “Yes, I do know what pleases you.”

  Stilling, Tarin wanted to look away but held his stare. The tone of his statement bothered her. Were his softly-spoken words filled with innuendo? Or was she reading more into them?

  Leaning farther off his seat, Dr. Kent reached across the expanse between them and covered her hand. Oh, blast. Tarin wanted to pull her hand from his grasp but was afraid to offend him.

  “Tarin, you and I have a lot in common.”

  Swallowing hard, she nodded. “Yes, the college has given us an opportunity to share our interest in medicine.”

  “Our Brahmin ties and my care for your father have put us on the same path in many ways.”

  She nodded. Don’t jump to conclusions, Tarin.

  His eyes downcast, Dr. Kent’s voice was soft as she slowly pulled her hand from his. She left it on top of the journal.

  “Did you know I lived on the streets as a child?”

  A small gasp escaped her lips. “No. I had no idea.”

  He nodded. “My parents and I left Shropshire for America when I was a boy of five. My father…” he paused, “fell overboard on the journey.”

  “Oh, Dr. Kent, no,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand.

  His smile was bitter. “My mother and I lived on the streets of New York for weeks while we looked for work. We sold everything we had to eat and pay for shelter when the weather threatened. One day, about three months after we arrived, she gave me a book. On Socrates.” He glanced up at the book shelf. “She told me to sit on a corner and teach myself to read that book. It would make me smart and rich one day.”

  He shook his head. “She left me there, alone, while she went to find food for us.” His voice was just above a whisper. “That was the last time I saw her alive.”

  It seemed loss had touched everyone. Tarin could certainly relate to the pain and anguish she witnessed in his downcast eyes and thin speech. Tears swam in her eyes as she reached over and squeezed his hand. “Dr. Kent…”

  “She was right,” he said, taking a deep breath. “It did make me smart. I went to the first church I could find. The priest took me to an orphanage where I studied everything the nuns were willing to teach me. I read every book they had in their library. I told myself I would never live on the streets again.” He squeezed her hand in return. “And I haven’t.”

  “You are a self-made man, Dr. Kent. You have much to be proud of.”

  Nodding, he said, “I had hoped you would see it that way.”

  Her stomach clenched in a knot.

  “Tarin, I came here today to ask your father’s permission to court you.”

  Tarin tried to pull her hand from his grasp. He held on tight. “Dr. Kent - “

  “But he told me he was not the person to ask. He would approve anyone you approved.”

  Tarin stood, forcing him to release her hand. She placed the journal on her seat. “Dr. Kent you know I have no desire to marry. I am completely involved in the college.”

  He rose to face her. “Yes, but that is the beauty of our relationship. You can have both - more than both. You can have the college and my knowledge at your disposal. We both want the same thing.”

  Tarin couldn’t dispute the logic of his proposal. He would be the most practical selection for a husband that she could make under the circumstances. She had heard many women say he was handsome although he did not appeal to her in that sense.

  A thought suddenly occurred to her. Why had he never married? He was her father’s age. Surely the opportunity had presented itself at some point.

  She heard voices in the foyer and knew she had to end the conversation. “Dr. Kent, I -”

  “Just think about it,” he interrupted, glancing at the door. His body stiffened, his green eyes darkening to forest in color.

  “Tarin.”

  Turning at the sound of her father’s voice, she was shocked to see Rafe standing beside him in the doorway. Brows lowered in a thunderous frown, Rafe’s eyes were black as night. He stormed across the room to her side, leaving her father to trail behind.

  “Kent, what are you doing here?”

  Once again, the tension between them felt as thick as mud. Tarin could feel it in the set of Rafe’s tense shoulders, see it in the jutted chin of Dr. Kent.

  Yet, she felt a sense of relief in Rafe’s presence.

  She frowned. Shouldn’t she feel that relief in her father’s presence? When had that changed?

  Dr. Kent bent to retrieve the journal. The smile on his face was… malicious?

  “I brought Tarin a gift,” he held it out to Rafe. Rafe’s eyes glanced off the book but he didn’t touch it.

  “A medical journal,” Tarin offered, taking it from his hand. She glanced up at Rafe. His eyes were in a heated deadlock with Dr. Kent.

  “Tarin,” Dr. Kent added, his eyes never leaving Rafe. “There is a detailed section on burns, wounds and their scars that may be too graphic for your delicate senses. I know many male physicians that can‘t stomach that kind of medicine.” His smile shown wide, victorious.

  Tarin gritted her teeth. She wanted to slap him. Slap the horrible, insensitive man with all of her strength. His words were an obvious barb at Rafe for the scars on his face. She would’ve never thought Dr. Kent capable of such maliciousness unless she had seen it for herself.

  Rafe on the other hand, stood eerily quiet. While she heard his initial, quick intake of breath, he never made a move towards Dr. Kent, never uttered a response.

  The annoyance in her father’s voice spoke for them all. “Kent, didn’t you say you had an appointment?”

  “Yes, I did,” he replied, checking his pocket watch. He moved to pick up his top hat from the table. All eyes followed him to the door. “Good day, gentlemen.”

  Bowing low, his eyes on her smoldered as if in hidden meaning. Tarin cringed.

  “Tarin, please think about what I said.” Whistling, he strolled out the door without shutting it.

  Her gaze flew to Rafe. His eyes were still dark as he handed her a gold box with a pink ribbon tied around it. “This is for you.” His voice was detached, as though he were giving her the gift out of obligation rather than desire.

  “Thank you.” She gave him her brightest smile, hoping to demonstrate that Kent‘s words did not affect her in the least.

  He gave her a curt nod. Turning to her father, he did the same. “Good day.” Rafe headed for th
e door, his steps long.

  A weight landed in the middle of her chest. Why would he leave? He just got there. Wasn’t he going to court her? Did he think he could just leave her a gift and walk out?

  “Rafe.”

  His eyes were dull when he turned to her. Tarin worked the ribbon from the box as she made her way towards him. “No picnic in the park today?”

  A corner of his mouth lifted as he shook his head. “No, Tarin.”

  Dropping the bow on the floor, she lifted the lid on the box. “But, I’m hungry.”

  Glancing at her father, Rafe’s eyes met hers. “Tarin, the last thing I want from you is pity.”

  While she had to admit feeling a touch of pity, it was her reluctant desire to spend time with him that prompted her.

  “Pity?“ Now a foot in front of him, Tarin breathed deeply. His spicy, utterly male scent had a knack for stealing the breath from her lungs at first sniff. She lifted her chin.

  “You are the most arrogant, egotistical man I have ever met. Pity is the last thing I would ever bestow on you, Rafe Sutherland.”

  Her father laughed from the other side of the room. The smile on Rafe’s face made her knees wobble. It’s radiance blinded her as the dimples in his cheeks carved deep crevices in his face.

  “Will you bring your chocolates?”

  Tarin frowned. “Chocolates?”

  He nodded at the box in her hand. “Came in on one of my ships this morning.”

  Looking inside the box, Tarin saw an assortment of rich chocolates from her favorite London chocolatier. An afternoon with Rafe Sutherland and premium chocolate was more delight than she deserved. She closed the box and tucked it under her arm.

  “Rafe Sutherland, you do have a way with women.” Grinning, she hooked her arm through his.

  Her father’s voice stopped them two steps from the door. “Tarin, I assume your answer was no?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rafe look at her. “For some reason, I can’t recall the question, Father.”

  An hour later, Rafe lounged beside her on the blanket, head in his hand. She leaned against the same elm tree as the day before, miserable from eating too much roast beef. The Sutherland cook was a master when it came to picnic fare. Tarin had eaten more than Rafe.

  "I am going to be as round as a barrel if you keep feeding me this way."

  Rafe grinned. "You will be easier to catch - yet no less desirable."

  Oh, this man was sinful. She chuckled. "I should have known you had an ulterior motive."

  His eyes grew serious, his voice soft. "I have only one motive with you, Tarin, and there's nothing ulterior about it."

  She glanced away as a blush warmed her cheeks. Yes, Rafe had made it abundantly clear he wanted to court her. But why? Was it her, or was it her father's business that interested him? When he kissed her, Tarin had no doubt of his attraction to her. Yet, she knew the Sutherlands struggled financially. How could she know for sure?

  “What was the question, Tarin?”

  She sighed. She knew Rafe's query would eventually come. Frankly, she was surprised it had taken him a full hour to ask. Could she have dismissed it as irrelevant? Yes. But Rafe was smart enough to know if she did that, it was more relevant than ever.

  “Dr. Kent asked to court me.” Her eyes shot to his, surprised to find acceptance and anguish, rather than anger, in their black irises.

  His gaze bored into her. “What was your response?”

  Glancing down at her lap, she replied, “I gave none.”

  Blowing out a breath, Rafe rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky for several minutes. “Do you love him?”

  Frowning, Tarin caught her breath. How could he ask such a thing after what they had shared in her parlor? Did he think her the type of woman that could be intimate with one man while she loved another?

  No, he had more respect for her than that. Rafe’s ego had taken a blow today in her library, whether he admitted it or not. Otherwise, she would have received the anger she’d expected.

  He turned to stare at her.

  “No, Rafe.”

  A smile slowly blossomed on his face, her heart beating faster in sync. Tarin couldn’t help but reciprocate his expression. Why did it please her that he was pleased? Did he truly care for her or was he just relieved that Kent proved no competition?

  Sitting up, Rafe searched around and grabbed her parasol. Opening it, he scooted in front of her, facing the tree.

  Tarin’s heart pounded wildly now. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to kiss you.”

  “Out here - in public?” She swallowed, pushing against his chest weakly.

  His grin was devilish. “Yes.” The arrogant Rafe had returned.

  The thought made her grin. “We will both be put in jail,” she declared as the parasol descended, cocooning their faces against the tree trunk. A strong scent of roses enveloped them.

  “It’ll be worth it.”

  His mouth covered hers, his lips warm, soft against her own. He tasted of roast beef and wine, his kiss thorough and languid. Tarin couldn’t believe she was actually kissing a man in public. If anyone saw, her reputation would be ruined. Not that she cared at the moment, for a kiss from Rafe Sutherland merited every risk. He made her take chances, do things she would never, ever do under normal circumstances.

  Scooting closer, he clutched her head in his hand and deepened the kiss. Tarin gasped, her hands clutching the sleeves of his shirt in a tight grip. He proceeded to seduce her meticulously, expertly, until she had completely forgotten her whereabouts. Her gruff moan made him pull away with a chuckle.

  “Easy sweetheart, we can’t get too loud and draw attention to ourselves.”

  Tarin’s face heated until she thought she would combust. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “Oh Rafe, why me?”

  Closing the parasol, he held her against him, his hand in her hair. “I should be asking you that question. I don’t know why you would allow someone like me to kiss you, but I’m damned glad you do.”

  She pulled away. “What do you mean, ‘like you‘?”

  His brows furrowed. “Tarin, you know what I mean.”

  She trailed the back of her hand across the jagged scar on his cheek. “Save the insecurity for someone else, Rafe Sutherland. It doesn’t become you.”

  Laughing aloud, he gave her a quick kiss - in full view of all the patrons in the park.

  “Rafe!”

  “Fine,” he mumbled with a teasing lilt in his voice. He scooted away from her.

  Tarin suddenly felt cold.

  “So, are you going to open that box of chocolates today or were you hoping I’d forgotten about them?”

  Laughing, she grabbed the box beside her and removed the lid. “Only you would give a woman a gift, then demand some of it back.”

  She browsed the box, trying to decipher what flavors were in the different pieces. “What flavors did you buy?”

  Rafe sat up and looked inside the box, too. His face was just inches from hers. Her eyes strayed to his lips and held. If she raised her head just a smidgeon, she could kiss him again. Suddenly, the chocolate didn’t interest her in the least.

  “I bought an assortment. I wasn’t sure what kind you liked.”

  “Do any of them taste like you?” she whispered.

  Stilling, Rafe growled low in his throat. “Dammit Tarin, stop it. Or you’ll be flat on your back in two seconds.”

  The thought made Tarin’s body tingle in anticipation. Her answering smile made him frown. He moved away from the candy and stared at her mutinously.

  He was a woman’s fantasy come true sitting back on his hands, knee bent, his trousers pulled tight over long, muscular legs and taut backside. The wind whipped at his hair, swirling the scent of roses and spice in the air. With the sensual storm raging in the depths of his chocolate-brown eyes, the combined effect was mesmerizing.

  Suddenly, Tarin didn’t care where they were intimate, as lon
g as they were.

  “Take me back to my room, Rafe.” Leaning forward, she placed her hand on his leg and smoothed it up his shin.

  Rafe shot to within an inch of her face. His jaw tight, his hands clenched her upper arms in a fierce grip. “Are you saying you’ll allow me to court you?”

  God help her. What was she doing? She had told herself just this morning that she wouldn’t allow herself to get close to Rafe.

  Blast. All it took was one kiss and she wanted to give herself to him. Why did she ask to come here? Why did she put herself in this situation?

  “Answer me, Tarin.”

  Turning away, she shook her head.

  Rafe sighed as he let her go. Cursing aloud, he stood and gathered their things.

  Chapter 9

  Rafe tugged at his cravat, wishing he could whip the damned thing off and burn it. Sitting down in the chair at the head of the table, he mumbled a good morning to Patrick.

  Some days he just wanted to wear a pair of his worn jeans, a shirt and his dirty boots. But today, he and Patrick had an appointment with a potential fur client and he had to look his best.

  Come on, Sutherland. You know you want to look respectable for Tarin, too.

  Tarin. The woman that was sure to be the death of him by unspent sexual desire. Why on earth did she have to be so damned… eager with her kisses? A half naked Tarin moaning in his arms had taken years off of his life. Why couldn’t she be normal - one of those good, angelic Brahmin virgins? One of those that would never contemplate running her hand up his leg, or kiss him like she wanted to climb inside of him, or hell, allow him to seduce her while she showed him what she wanted?

  Rafe squirmed in his chair as he spooned eggs on his plate. Dammit, he had to quit thinking about her. Even staying away from her yesterday hadn’t eased his discomfort. It only made him crave her more.

  He stilled, his hand on the coffee mug brimming with fresh brew. When had this become about her and not the deal with her father?