“We shan’t sit anywhere,” he said firmly, determined to do the right thing for once in his sorry life. Rothborn would not be disappointed in him again. “It was kind of you to bring the basket, but you can leave it with me and return to the house now.”
“Not on your life,” she said, hugging the basket to her chest. “If you want to eat, you’ll have to endure my company.”
“Then I suppose I’ll go hungry,” he replied coolly.
“Oh, don’t be difficult, Raphe,” she complained, exasperated.
The sound of his given name on her lips sent an unexpected sensation of pleasure lancing through him, for it was as if she had claimed him as her own.
He did not let her know how much he enjoyed hearing her address him so intimately, though, instead retreating into the safety of being a pompous ass. “That’s Lord de Ligne to you.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, looking so deliciously naughty he wanted to put her over his knee and spank her, which really was not a helpful image to have in his head.
“Oh, please. I’ve not spoken to you alone for so long,” she said, and he saw hurt in her eyes now.
Damnation. How was he supposed to resist such an appeal? It would upset her if he refused again and he could not bear to turn her away, not when he wanted her company so badly. It was only lunch, after all. What harm could it do? He could behave himself for an hour, couldn’t he? He was a man, not a mindless animal. The restless devil that lurked in his soul was suspiciously quiet on the subject, but he decided not to worry about it. He could do this.
“All right, then,” he said, ensuring he sounded begrudging, for he could not let her know how much he craved her nearness.
She beamed at him, and the sensation was akin to being hit in the chest by something heavy, winding him.
Raphe went to the water butt and rinsed his hands and face. The freezing liquid stung his skin but helped calm his erratic pulse a bit. He gestured for her to follow him behind the cottage, where it was out of the wind and in full sun now, making a pleasant place to sit even on a chill December day. Greer followed him and he watched with mixed feelings as she lay the blanket down and sat upon it.
“Well, come on then,” she urged, patting the space beside her.
Just pretend you’re a gentleman, he told himself, trying not to think about tumbling her onto her back and making love to her. Taking care to sit on the farthest edge of the blanket, he waited while she made him a plate of food.
“There,” she said, handing it to him. “You need to eat if you’re going to work so hard.”
He snorted at that.
“What?” she asked. “Dare said you’ve worked like a Trojan.”
Raphe shrugged, feeling uncomfortable, though he was uncertain why. He took a large bite of the pie she’d given him, so he didn’t have to answer.
“You enjoy physical activity?”
He shot her an accusing look, wondering if she was flirting with him and hated himself when he saw it had been an innocent question. It was only him with the dirty mind.
“I’ve enjoyed helping,” he admitted. “Makes me feel useful.”
Greer nodded. “Yes, it must be difficult for titled gentlemen who are unsuited to indolence. Society has such stupid rules. Papa ignores them, of course. He does all sorts he ought not, though having an earl for a brother helps, and being friends with the Duke of Bedwin. We’re not good ton, though,” she added with a grin. “Not that we want to be. Good heavens, life is dull enough without having to live up to their ridiculous standards.”
“Life is dull?” he repeated, unable to fit the word in the same context as Greer Cadogan, who was as far from dull as it was possible to be.
She gave a little laugh and shrugged. “Oh, well, no. That’s just me being ungrateful. It’s just there is so much more I want to do and can’t and it makes me wild. If I were married, I’d have more freedom, I suppose,” she mused. “But that seems increasingly unlikely. Unless you’d like to marry me? Would you? I’d certainly keep you busy.”
Raphe choked on the pie. Had that been a proposal of marriage? He gasped, wondering if he’d misheard. She’d spoken so casually she might have just been asking him if he wanted a sandwich. He was vaguely aware of her scrambling across the blanket to him and, a moment later she was pounding him on the back.
“Oh, dear. I beg your pardon. Me and my wretched mouth. Did I frighten you to death? I am sorry.”
Raphe took a breath and turned to stare at her.
“You ought not be let out alone,” he said with feeling.
She nodded.
“You can’t just go around proposing to men without a by-your-leave!”
“I know,” she said, offering him a small smile. “It’s all right. I’ll go if you want me to. I know I ought not to have come, only—”
He ought to make her leave. He should send her away, back to the safety of the Hall. If he’d had the least bit of sense, or even a scrap of decency, he would have simply accepted her apology and made her go. Raphe had never been much good with ought to and should, though, and decency was a concept he seemed to have forgotten entirely of late. So, instead of doing the right thing—the thing he had promised himself he would do—he gave in to desire, as he always did, and leaned in, pressing his mouth to hers.
She stilled at once, whatever words she might have spoken silenced beneath the seal of his lips. He put his hand to her silken cheek, caressing lightly, and then slid his hand to the back of her head, pulling her closer. She offered no resistance, inclining towards his, opening her mouth as he had taught her to do, and satisfaction swept over him. Except it wasn’t enough, not even nearly. Nothing but total surrender would be enough, her body beneath his, giving herself over to him. His blood surged in his veins, hot and frantic, and he pushed her gently onto the blanket. She lay down without protest, her green eyes watchful as he followed her, lying beside her.
“I had best warn you,” she said, her voice quiet. “That if you mean to seduce me, I don’t think I can say no to you.”
Raphe gaped, momentarily too stunned to speak.
“You can’t… you don’t mean to say…. You’re not putting your fate in my hands?” She gave a thoughtful sigh. “I don’t see what else I can do. I can’t think straight when you kiss me. It seems to get out of control with astonishing speed, and so—while I can still form words—I thought I’d better let you know that I’m unlikely to refuse you.”
“And… you think this is good information to hand over to a man like me?” he said, hearing the rough quality of his own voice. He could have her. Now. This instant. He could lift her skirts and climb between her legs and… oh, holy God.
“Yes, why not?” she said, staring placidly up at him.
It was akin to a lamb asking why it ought not to lie down beside a hungry wolf, he reflected bitterly.
“Why not?” The question was not entirely steady. “Why not?”
“Yes. Why not?” There was no trace of sarcasm in the question, no doubt in her eyes that she was being rash or foolish.
“Because of everything you know about me?” he suggested with deceptive mildness, for he wanted to shake her for her recklessness. “My reputation as a libertine, perhaps? That doesn’t give you pause?”
She shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s different with me. I am usually an excellent judge of character. I believe if you do ruin me, you’ll be kind and careful, but I don’t think you’ll seduce me unless you mean to offer for me. I’m not one of your opera dancers, after all.”
“You don’t think so,” he repeated, finding it hard to breathe.
“Well, anyway, I just thought I ought to warn you,” she said seriously, her green eyes kind and grave. “Knowing how overwrought you get. So, if you’re going to have a breakdown and weep with remorse for having seduced me, you’d best get used to the idea now.”
Raphe stared down at her. “I see,” he said carefully. “Yes. You wanted to prepare me so that I didn’t make a
n embarrassing emotional scene once I’d deflowered you.”
“Yes,” she said, smiling at him as if he were a dim-witted fool who’d finally grasped the point she was making.
He didn’t know whether to give into hysterics or cry. Perhaps she was right to be concerned.
“But if you’re prepared, we can carry on,” she offered.
Raphe made a choked sound. He was uncertain if it was a laugh or a sob. It could go either way. He sat up and put his head in his hands.
“Have I ruined the mood?” she asked, sitting up.
Raphe gave her a suspicious glare. “I cannot decide if you are ridiculously naïve or far more worldly than I am.”
“Oh,” she said, nodding, as if that cleared everything up. “Well, Mama and Papa have always been very frank with us about sex and things other girls don’t get taught about. So, although I’ve done nothing, I’m not the least bit ignorant. I realise I ought not to speak so freely, though. It’s always getting me into trouble, but as you’re far more troublesome than I am, I didn’t think it would matter.”
Raphe closed his eyes and groaned.
“Does this mean you won’t kiss me again?” she asked, sounding so crestfallen he could not help but laugh.
“You outrageous chit,” he exclaimed. “You make my head spin, wondering what appalling thing you’ll say next.”
“You like it, though,” she said, with far too much perspicacity.
He nodded, desire burning again at the soft tone of her voice, and at the knowledge that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“I like you,” he said, his voice low. “I like you far too much for your own good.”
“I trust you,” she said, her pale green eyes holding his gaze, guileless and hiding nothing.
“You’re a fool.”
The words were angry, on the surface at least. Her trust in him was unsettling, reminding him of the man he’d once thought he was, but she only smiled and shook her head.
“No, I’m not, and you’re only fooling yourself, Raphe, because I see you, and I know you won’t hurt me.”
Her words did something to him, hitting him square in the solar plexus and sending him reeling. Too many emotions exploded at once, confusing him, making him want things he could not afford to have. He didn’t like the way it made him feel, unbalanced and exposed, making him too aware of how unsuitable he was. Resentment rose inside him, and he wanted to prove her wrong, to show her how bloody stupid she was for putting her faith in a man like him, because he could never be good enough for her. His past behaviour had marked him as the worst kind of man, and everyone knew it. More than that, he simply wanted her, with a desire deeper and hotter than anything he had ever experienced before. He yearned to claim her, to mark her as his in some wildly primitive way that he did not understand. Though his behaviour in recent times might contradict it, he had always considered himself civilised. He did not feel civilised now. Far from it. Though he was stone cold sober, he did not think he had ever been so out of control as he felt right now.
He reached for her, his hand going to the back of her neck and pulling her in for a kiss that was far from tender. The weight of his body pressed her back down to the rug, and she surrendered to him, her arms going about his neck. Raphe deepened the kiss, and she sighed, allowing him to plunder as he wished. His hands moved over her, restless, frustrated by far too many layers of clothing. He needed to feel her skin beneath his touch. Frantically, he tugged at her skirts, pulling up yards of material as those inciting red ribbons fluttered nervously and the lace of pristine white petticoats billowed around them. Finally, he fought his way beneath to a shapely silk clad leg. His hand coasted higher, and higher still, and the breath rushed out of him as he felt the warm satin of her bare thigh. She shivered beneath him as he exposed her skin to the chill air and he pulled back, watching her face as he explored beneath her skirts. A flush coloured her cheeks, her lips rosy pink from his kisses. She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling rapidly behind the cage of her corset. He wanted to free them, to feast upon them, but he had no patience for hooks and buttons now. If he didn’t feel her, taste her, he would lose his damn mind.
She gasped as he found the little thatch of curls between her thighs and stroked, trailing his fingers back and forth. Her eyes were dark, and he saw her passionate nature glinting in her gaze. She was not afraid, only curious, wanting. Wanting him. There was a devil inside her, just as there was in him. She would not play coy, would not hide it from him or pretend it was not there. That was why the attraction was so fierce. Like was drawn to like.
Raphe continued his languid exploration, parting the soft folds and stroking deeper, more intimately. Her breathing hitched, her hips canting up towards his touch, seeking more, and he thought he might go mad from wanting her. He found the delicate pearl of flesh that would bring her the most pleasure and stroked. Greer gave a soft cry of surprise.
“Like that, do you?” he asked, aware he too was breathless, mesmerised by her, enchanted by her uninhibited response to his touch.
She blushed, but gave a slight nod. He carried on, circling the little bud gently before moving lower and finding the hottest, most private part of her and dipping one finger inside. He moaned at the feel of her, tight and wet.
“I want to kiss you here,” he said urgently, and though she had warned him she was not the least bit ignorant, her response still shocked him.
“Yes,” she said, the word exploding from her, though her cheeks blazed now. “Oh, yes, please.”
Christ. He was going to die. She would kill him. If Rothborn didn’t get to him first. He froze at the thought of Lord Rothborn, at his promise to him.
“Raphe.” Greer was staring at him, her eyes impossibly dark, moving impatiently beneath his hand which had stilled. “Raphe, please….”
He was standing on a precipice, about to tumble over and uncertain whether he gave a damn, when the sound of men’s voices reached them.
“Bloody hell,” he cursed, snatching his hands from her and tugging down her skirts. “The workmen are back.”
How could he have been so stupid, so reckless? What in God’s name had he been thinking? He’d known they would be back and he… he’d been about to…. What if he’d not hesitated? Raphe went hot and cold at the idea of what the men might have discovered them doing. He tugged her to her feet and snatched up her bonnet.
“Come on,” he urged, pulling her behind him as they crept to the edge of the cottage. Peering around the corner, he watched the men arrive with a cart loaded with fresh wood and tools for the next stage of the restoration. He turned back to Greer. “I’ll go around the other way and get them inside the building on some pretext. Once they’re in the cottage, you run. You hear me?”
She nodded at once, and Raphe saw that she was pale, as well she might be. They’d been reckless and idiotic and he… he was…. Well, there would be enough time for recriminations once she was safely away from him. Perhaps now she’d think twice before coming after him again. He could only hope so, for it was clear he was depraved beyond saving. Raphe went to leave her, to go around and distract the men so she could leave, but she grabbed hold of his hand.
“Raphe.”
He turned, staring down at her.
“It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t regret it,” she whispered, before tugging his head down and giving him a swift kiss.
Raphe let out an exasperated sigh. “Little fool.”
“Your little fool, if you want me,” she offered, so sweetly he didn’t know whether to shake her or fall to his knees in gratitude.
He settled for leaving. If he could do nothing else right this day, he could get her out of his company without ruining her reputation.
Chapter 6
Monsieur Le Comte,
I am so pleased you have finally seen reason and are spending Christmas at Beverwyck. When I saw Aggie, she was beside herself with excitement.
I confess I am looking forward t
o it as well. I have bought you the most perfect present. Now, don’t scold me. I know it is inappropriate but if you don’t tell, no one will know, and I have concluded that behaving all the time is not good for one’s soul. Of course, there are limits which you seem determined to push to the utmost, but I shall scold you in person, for I know you prefer it. One cannot deliver a truly successful set down by post.
―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight) to Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen.
12th December 1840, Rowsley Hall, Derbyshire.
Much to her relief, Greer got back to the safety of her own room and saw no one on the way. She closed the door behind her, sagging against it. Her heart was still pounding, her skin tingling, electrified by the feel of Raphe’s hands upon her. She felt restless and wild and did not know what to do with herself.
God, but she had been reckless. The sensation of iced water flowing down her spine assailed her every time she remembered the sound of the workmen’s voices and how close they’d come to discovery. Yet despite that, despite coming close to ruining herself in the most shameful of circumstances, she could not bring herself to regret it. No doubt she was wicked. Certainly, most people outside of her family and close friends would believe her a harlot, but Mama would understand. She said women felt desire just as strongly as men did, and anyone who thought otherwise was a brainless numbskull. All the same, Greer was not eager to be at the centre of a great scandal, especially as Raphe had looked so horrified at the prospect of marrying her. Not that she was certain she wanted him to marry her, but she wasn’t giving up on the idea. Some men feared the idea of marriage for the most ridiculous reasons and needed a little encouragement to realise it was what they wanted. She was certain Raphe was lonely and needed the security and comfort of a home, but she could never tell him that. Being a man, he would likely dismiss any such implication as weakness. She did not yet know him well enough to be certain he would not. Of course, he also needed her money desperately. Mentioning that probably wasn’t wise either. Not yet, at least. No doubt he was aware she was far from penniless, for he must know by now that her sister had brought his best friend a generous dowry. Her parents had warned Dare not to speak of the numbers involved, though, for fear Greer and Alana might gain the attention of fortune hunters.
Dare to Risk it All (Daring Daughters Book 7) Page 6