Dare to Risk it All (Daring Daughters Book 7)

by Emma V. Leech

“For a moment. Please, love. I’ll keep you warm,” he offered, lowering his head to speak quietly by her ear. The words slid over her, making her ache with longing to be closer to him, which was exactly her point.

  “And how will you keep me warm from Monmouthshire?” she retorted, knowing that was where his family home was.

  He held out his hand to her, his not-quite-blue eyes full of warmth. Greer sighed, relenting.

  “I know I’m a spoiled child, but I don’t wish to wait, and I don’t understand why you do,” she said, her voice plaintive as he led her away from the Hall and into the gardens.

  “I don’t want to, you ridiculous creature,” he replied, shaking his head. He hurried her down a flight of stone steps and behind a long topiary hedge where they were out of sight of the house. As soon as they were alone, he pulled her into his arms. “How can you be so addle-pated?” he demanded, before taking her mouth in a kiss that stole her breath and made her heart ricochet about behind her ribs like a trapped bird.

  Greer sank into him, instantly caught in the spell he cast over her. His large, hard body enveloped her, deliciously warm, his heat reaching through her clothes and making her tremble with relief. She pressed closer, seeking more, sliding her chilled hands under his coat.

  “Greer,” he said hoarsely, as he lifted his head. “Don’t, love. Christ, you’ll drive me mad.”

  Greer didn’t care. She wanted him mad with lust, unable to refuse her, then perhaps he’d not make her wait. She tugged at his neck and sought his mouth again. He complied hungrily and Greer allowed her hands to move over him. Her palms slid down his chest, down his lean hips to his thighs, and then one hand coasted back up to cup the blatant arousal tenting the fabric of his trousers. Raphe gave a primal grunt of appreciation, his kiss deepening and his breathing increasingly erratic as she caressed him.

  He pulled away with a groan of effort and reached down, grasping her wrist to still her hand.

  “Bad girl,” he growled, glaring at her. His eyes were so dark, the violet blue only a slender band, swallowed by the blown black of his pupil.

  She shivered as his hot breath fanned over her skin. He looked as if he wanted to devour her.

  “Let me touch you,” she said, staring up at him. “I want to.”

  He made a pained sound and rested his forehead on hers. “Not as much as I want you to, but I’m not tupping you in the garden, love, so don’t test me.”

  Greer let out a breath of frustration and he put a finger to her chin, lifting her face to his.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” he offered, amusement in his eyes. “But I need to know you understand. You can’t possibly believe I don’t want to be with you. I will be miserable every second of every day I spend apart from you, and I’ll no doubt regret the decision the moment I leave, but I have things I must do for my own pride, love. Things I ought to have done a long time ago. I want to be a better man for you. Help me be worthy of our future. Please, Greer.”

  Well, really. What could she possibly say to that?

  “That’s not fair,” she huffed, resting her cheek against his chest. “Don’t go saying such lovely things, because you make me seem spoiled and unreasonable, and I know that’s true, but it’s very bad of you to point it out.”

  He laughed softly, and she sighed, knowing she was beaten.

  “You are already the best man I know, Raphe. You don’t need to change for me.”

  “I want to be better. I’ll be the best husband I can be, Greer. I know that might not be saying much, but I will do my utmost.”

  She looked up at him, studying his handsome face. The longing for him, the emotion that filled her chest was so all-encompassing it made her want to weep with a strange mix of happiness and sorrow, of tenderness and pure animal lust.

  “I love you,” she said, daring to say the words, even though they made her feel vulnerable.

  She trusted him, and he needed her to say it first, for he’d hidden his own heart behind thick, defensive walls for too long. She could risk her own for his sake. She smiled as his breath hitched.

  He stared at her for a long moment, so obviously shaken that she almost laughed, but then he claimed her mouth again, hot and demanding as he pulled her as close as she could be. Greer went willingly, moulding her body to his, feeling his erection press against the softness of her belly. A strange, empty sensation tugged at her core, the place between her thighs throbbing with want. He tore his mouth from hers to press scorching kisses down her neck and he fumbled at the buttons of her pelisse, trying to expose more skin.

  “Take me to your room,” she suggested, growing increasingly desperate.

  To her chagrin, the suggestion only seemed to bring him back to himself. He pulled back with a curse.

  “Little she-devil,” he muttered, staring at her with bemused affection. “You destroy my self-control.”

  “Self-control is overrated,” she replied ruefully.

  “We are going inside,” he said, taking her by the hand and tugging her back towards the Hall. “For tea,” he added darkly.

  Greer pouted, which only made him laugh.

  “Behave,” he told her.

  “But you promised to make it up to me,” she reminded him.

  “So I did,” he replied, his voice a seductive purr which reminded her of how dreadfully frustrated she was. He glanced over his shoulder at her, his wicked smile making her heart beat faster still. “But I never said when.”

  Somehow, Raphe quelled his raging erection before they got back to the hall and endured tea with everyone else in a stew of balked lust. How he’d found the strength to walk away from Greer, he would never know. Except that her happiness was more important than anything else, and he would not risk it. He knew her parents were right to want them to wait, and though his every desire protested the idea, he needed to prove to them he would do the right thing, not simply what he wanted. What he wanted was to take her up to his bedroom and keep her there for the foreseeable future. He wanted to make love to her, to worship every splendid inch of her until she was begging for him to take her and make her his. Not that he would, not right away. He’d draw it out, teasing and tormenting her until she was wild with wanting him. He’d kiss her everywhere, her toes, the tender skin at the back of her knees, the little dimples and plush curves of her bottom— Christ, stop it!

  The teacup rattled in his hand. He set it down abruptly.

  Think of something else, for the love of God.

  Frantically, he conjured the image of his dreadful stepmother giving him a particularly vitriolic scold and his burgeoning arousal subsided reluctantly. He let out an uneven breath and tried to attend the conversation buzzing around him. Greer caught his eyes, her expression curious. A mischievous grin flickered at the edges of her mouth. The wretch. Did she know what she did to him?

  He smiled back, unable to help himself as happiness fizzed inside him like his veins were full of Champagne bubbles. His abstraction was so absolute he barely heard the door open, or the butler announce another guest.

  “—Baron Rothborn to see you, my Lord Roxborough.”

  Raphe jerked in shock, his head snapping around to see the man himself stride in, his gait uneven as he leant heavily on the cane he always carried.

  “My Lord,” Elspeth said, surging to her feet with a smile of welcome before Dare could greet their guest. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

  “For you, perhaps,” Rothborn said dryly, greeting her warmly before sending Raphe a direct look of enquiry. “I think perhaps my friend there has been expecting me with less enthusiasm.”

  Raphe swallowed. He had known. Of course, he’d known Rothborn would hear about his latest scandal. Though he’d thought perhaps he had a little longer, assuming Rothborn would be away visiting family at Christmas and the news might take time to reach him. Damn the blasted railway. If it wasn’t so bloody easy to get here from London, the gossip—and Rothborn himself—might have taken longer to arrive. Raphe might even h
ave been safe until past Christmas. Ah, well.

  “Raphe,” Greer said, her expression one of concern, but her mother grasped hold of her arm and shook her head, her expression fierce.

  Raphe smiled at her and echoed her mother, giving the smallest shake of his head. Greer subsided, understanding that Raphe needed to deal with this alone, but the worry in her eyes warmed him.

  “My lord,” Raphe said, getting to his feet. “You will wish to speak in private, I think.”

  Rothborn nodded, his sharp gaze flicking between Raphe and Greer. He’d noticed Greer address him by his given name, heard the familiarity in the way she’d said it. Well, he’d have to know about the engagement, too.

  Christ.

  Raphe led Rothborn to the library, very aware that it had been two months ago and in this same room Rothborn had told him to stay away from Greer.

  If you so much as look in that girl’s direction, I’ll give you a thrashing you won’t forget in a hurry. Age and gammy leg be damned. If you were everything you could be, perhaps I might promote such a match, but you’re ruining yourself by degrees, Raphe, and I’m damned if you’ll take a girl like that with you.

  Raphe swallowed down the acidic burn that rose in his throat and wondered if he’d made sufficient improvement to his life to avoid another of Rothborn’s set downs. The last one had damn near flayed the flesh from his bones and had been among the worst moments of Raphe’s life. This man’s opinion meant far too much to him, and he’d done nothing but let him down repeatedly.

  Raphe stood by the fireplace, stiff with tension as Rothborn closed the door.

  “Were you drunk?” the baron asked, getting to the point with his usual precision.

  Raphe shook his head, relieved to reply with honesty. “No, sir. I’ve not touched a drop since I’ve been here.”

  Rothborn’s piercing gaze bore into him, measuring. He said nothing, but moved to the chair by the fire and sat down, stretching out his injured leg and massaging the thigh muscle.

  “There’s talk of you having seduced a maid and caused a riot.”

  Before Raphe could say a word in his own defence, the door burst open, and Greer surged in with a furious rustle of skirts and petticoats.

  “He’s done nothing wrong,” she said, glaring at Rothborn. “And so you’re not to come down here and make him feel wretched. What happened was entirely my fault, and the fault of that loathsome Lord Plumpton. If not for Raphe, I—” She hesitated, paling, and he knew she’d remembered that night and how frightened she’d been, and he wanted to pummel the bastard all over again. “He saved me,” she said stiffly.

  If anything, Rothborn’s glower deepened as he looked between Raphe and Greer and put two and two together.

  “You have a champion, my lad,” he said softly.

  Raphe’s breath seemed in short supply, but he steeled himself, met Rothborn’s eye, and spoke steadily, “Miss Cadogan has kindly consented to be my wife, sir.”

  Rothborn’s jaw tightened.

  “Quick work, even by your standards,” he replied, his tone deceptively mild. Rothborn turned back to Greer and his smile was warm as he held out a hand to her. “You are looking as lovely as ever, child. Are you well?”

  “Yes, sir,” Greer said, taking his hand and giving a tentative smile. “I am very well, and very happy, but I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong.”

  Rothborn’s expression didn’t change. “Am I?”

  “Greer,” Raphe said, disconcerted to hear his voice so unsteady. “Please, leave this to me.”

  She turned to glare at him, such impatience in her expression he might have laughed if the circumstances were different. Taking her hand from Rothborn’s grasp, she folded her arms, glaring between the two of them.

  “No,” she said, terse. “Because if I do, you’ll not explain properly. Despite what people think of you—and it appears Lord Rothborn is one of them—you are a gentleman. If I say nothing, you will not explain to him how shamelessly I’ve pursued you, following you to get you alone, and doing my best to seduce you whenever possible.”

  “Greer, stop at once,” Raphe said in horror, turning his attention to Rothborn and stammering helplessly. “Th-That’s not true. She does not understand what she’s saying. She did no such thing. It was all me. She didn’t stand a chance. I’m sorry, sir. I know I’ve let you down, but—”

  “No, he hasn’t!” Greer shouted, trying to drown him out. “I knew full well what I was about. I’m not a child, Raphe!”

  “You’re an innocent and I certainly am not!”

  “You’re a pig-headed fool if you think you seduced me and not the other way around.”

  The two of them spoke at once, each trying to talk over the other and explain how everything was their fault.

  “Enough!” Rothborn held up a hand to silence them, looking exasperated. They subsided, an uneasy silence filling the room. He let out a breath and sat back in his chair, regarding them both with interest. “Never mind that for the moment. What happened at Lady Bainbridge’s ball? And I want no one falling on their sword, just a simple explanation of the facts.”

  “I can do that, sir,” Greer offered, before Raphe could get a word in.

  He glared at her but held his tongue as Rothborn sent him a narrow-eyed warning.

  With merciful brevity, for it was clear Rothborn’s patience was fraying, Greer explained about her dare, and how she’d got caught in a difficult situation with Lord Plumpton and his cronies.

  “A dare,” Rothborn repeated, shaking his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, but when he looked up Raphe thought perhaps there was a touch of humour in his eyes. “I know many men who owe a debt of gratitude to that blasted hat, yet those same men have daughters now and would just as soon burn the damn thing.”

  “Oh, no, sir,” Greer objected, her expression of horror suggesting the Daring Daughters would meet any such suggestion with violence. “Our mothers found happiness because of that hat.”

  “They found themselves in a great deal of hot water too,” Rothborn retorted, though his lips twitched, suggesting he was not as serious as he might sound. “As did you, young lady.”

  “That was my own fault.” Greer was solemn now. “I didn’t think it through, but acted in a fit of pique.”

  “Why?” Rothborn asked.

  “Because of me,” Raphe said, before Greer could give him a nobler excuse. “I-I took liberties and then told her I had no interest in her, that I would not marry her. That I had no intention of marrying anyone.”

  “And yet now you are engaged,” Rothborn said, with the quirk of an eyebrow.

  Greer rolled her eyes at him. “He only said it to scare me off, because he thought I could do better than him. He’s afraid he’s unworthy of me, because of his past and his lack of funds.”

  Raphe sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

  “Well, it’s true,” Greer said, her chin jutting stubbornly. She folded her arms, daring him to contradict her. “Don’t deny it. Rothborn knows you’re a good man at heart, or he’d have washed his hands of you long since.”

  “You are so like your mother,” Rothborn said, regarding Greer with a faint smile.

  Greer shrugged. “Yes, people say that all the time. It’s because I’m dreadful and can’t keep my mouth shut.”

  Despite everything, Raphe snorted and shook his head. “No, love. That’s not why.”

  Greer frowned, but Rothborn enlightened her. “It is because you are passionate and loyal to a fault and you never give an easy lie when the truth will help someone else, even if it hurts you.”

  “Yes,” Raphe said, meeting Rothborn’s dark eyes, allowing him to see everything he felt, hiding nothing. “Yes, that’s why.”

  Rothborn watched him for a long moment before turning back to Greer. “Leave us now, if you would, my dear. I wish to speak to Raphe in private.”

  “But—”

  “I will not rake him over the coals, so be easy,”
Rothborn spoke over her objection. “You’ve convinced me this latest debacle is none of his doing.”

  Raphe let out a breath of relief as Greer ran to Rothborn and kissed his cheek. “Oh, I’m so glad, sir. Please, be kind to him. He’s worked so hard to impress you and I’ve been a terrible trial to him.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Rothborn said, chuckling.

  Greer sent Raphe a look of such warmth he felt he might actually survive the night. After all, if she had such faith in him, how could he fail?

  The door closed and Rothborn gestured for him to sit down. Still somewhat uneasy, Raphe took the chair opposite his mentor and tried to appear relaxed.

  “Marriage is a big step. You barely know the girl.”

  Raphe nodded. “I know. Yet, strangely, I do know her, or I feel as if I do. I know her heart. I’ve met no one like her before. She’s the one. Don’t ask me how I know, but I know I’ve a chance with her.”

  “She’ll save you from yourself, you mean?” Rothborn asked, frowning.

  Raphe considered that and shook his head. “No. Not exactly, anyway. More like, I’ll save myself because of her, because I have something to fight for, someone to make proud.”

  Raphe watched as the man nodded his understanding.

  “I always wanted to make you proud, too, sir,” Raphe said hastily, in case he thought Raphe was ungrateful for all he’d done.

  Rothborn laughed, regarding him with affection. “It’s hardly the same. You resented me as much as you wished for my approval, and I understand that. You needed your father, not some interfering acquaintance. But for what it’s worth, I am proud of you. Very proud. You could have given up, but you fought back, and that took strength of character and courage.”

  Raphe let out a ragged breath, shocked by the impact those words had. He’d not realised how badly he’d needed to hear that. “You never interfered, and I wish I’d not been so damned ungrateful for all you did for us, for me. It must have been a thankless task.”

  He experienced a swell of shame, remembering how badly he’d raged against Rothborn over the years, when he could see now—with the eyes of an adult—how desperate the man had been to help him and his family. He’d been too proud, and too ashamed to understand he’d had a friend and ally, not an adversary. It had taken him too long to understand that.