"Quite likely," replied Jack. "Clearly you understand the feminine mind better than I do."
Harriet let out a low snort. "True. Otherwise you would not have eaten the last confection."
Rising, Jack made a show of flexing his lanky limbs. "On that note, perhaps it's time to take my leave. My sterling qualities seem cast in the shade by my cousin's unique talents."
"You are not without your own charms," responded Harriet, as she gathered her skirts and rose gracefully from the sofa cushions. "And we shall allow you to regale us with them during the carriage ride back to Northfield, if you so wish."
"Speak for yourself," said Theo. "Though I may be coaxed into forgiving you for snatching the last bit of champagne buttercream if you promise to ask me to dance at your homecoming ball. I usually spend all my time sitting with the matrons, and for once I would like to twirl across the polished parquet in the arms of a dashing gentleman."
Capable of faultless manners when he so chose, Jack swept into a gallant bow. "Consider yourself claimed for first waltz."
"And the second," added Rafael. "That is, if you don't mind dodging my clumsy steps. I warn you, I don't dance well, so there is a good chance you'll be nursing sore toes by the time the music has ended."
Theo turned shell pink. "I did not mean to sound so encroaching, sirs! The waltzes are the highlight of the ball and should be saved—"
"For the most interesting, alluring ladies of our acquaintance," interrupted Rafael. "Please don't say no. Or we won't have the courage to ask Miss Farnum or Lady Kyra as well."
"I, um... yes," stammered Theo. "If you put it that way."
"Excellent! That settles it," exclaimed Jack. "The three of you must consider yourselves engaged to stand up with us, and we shall not allow you to fob us off for another of your many admirers."
"Very well," said Harriet dryly. "We shall beat them off with a stick." Turning to Rafael, she asked, "Do you wish to come along with us in the carriage, sir?"
"No, no, my cousin has some artistic matters he wishes to discuss with Kyra," replied Jack smoothly before he could answer. "Chocolate, art..." A sly wink. "Poetry."
"Sounds like a very interesting conversation," murmured Harriet.
"So come along, ladies." A quick wave urged his two companions toward the door. "Let us be on our way." After a flurry of farewells, the trio took their leave, and in short order, the echo of their steps in the corridor faded to silence.
* * *
"Poetry?" inquired Kyra.
Rafael's face went through a series of odd little contortions. "You know Jack. He often enjoys stirring the coals and bringing the pot to a bubble."
"Ah." She couldn't resist a little teasing of her own. "So you do wish to talk about cooking?"
"Not really." He shifted, and the sunlight hung for a moment on his lashes, lighting the flecks of sapphire in his sea-dark eyes.
A clench of longing squeezed at her chest.
"Though I do hope you enjoyed the confections," he went on. "The idea came to me on a whim."
"Artistic inspiration often does," she replied. "They were sublime." You are sublime, though I shouldn't dare think it, and most assuredly shouldn't dare say it. "I do hope you wrote down the recipe."
"I did." His expression turned more serious. "As for my next words, I haven't made any notes, so they may not turn out quite as well."
Kyra waited warily for him to continue.
"The fact is, I have a favor to ask of you."
His tentative half smile, a subtle curl of his sensuous lips, made her bones feel as if they were made of butter. Warm butter. She looked away, trying not to let her resolve melt. "Yes?"
He closed the distance between them with two swift steps. The heat of him prickled against her skin. "I would like for you to trust me with whatever secret you are hiding."
Impossible.
"You've asked that before," she answered softly.
"And I will ask it again, and again, until you agree." He reached out and gently tilted up her chin. "I am a very stubborn fellow."
"I... I can't."
"You can. But you won't." His smile became more pronounced. "My English is still a little rusty, but I do know the difference between those two words."
In that instant, Kyra would have gladly journeyed to Hell and back if he had asked it of her. But this...
"It's too shameful," she whispered. It was one thing to confess Matherton's threat. But the heart of her former fiancé's hold over her was something more elemental, and she knew she couldn't bear to be anything less than honest with Rafael about it.
"We all do things that we regret, querida. There is nothing shameful in that. It simply means we are human, and far from perfect."
"The rumors are true," she blurted out. "I am a... a broken vessel?"
Rafael made a show of studying her face, which only made her flesh take on a hotter burn. She was sure she must be glowing scarlet—an apt hue for a wanton jade.
"How strange," he murmured. "I see no cracks or chips."
"It's not a jest, sir."
"It wasn't meant as one."
She hitched in a breath, and then, having no idea how to respond, let it out in a ragged sigh.
"If you are ruined, then so am I." A glint of humor rippled through his gaze. "And, I daresay, so are a great many more people than we might imagine."
"It's different for you. Men are allowed—nay, they are expected—to sow their wild oats."
"Surely a lady as wise as you are has figured out that such self-serving blather is because it is men who have written the rules over the centuries."
Amusement welled up in her throat. "Oh, I shouldn't laugh. It's wrong. It's wicked."
"Of course you should. Humor is needed most when things are grimly serious." His arms circled her shoulders, and all at once, Kyra found herself nestled against his chest, the steady beat of his heart resonating through her whole body.
Had he kissed her, the spell might have been broken. However, Rafael simply held her close, and by some enchantment, a feeling of peace seemed to pulse through her, overwhelming all her doubts and fears.
"You are the most confusingly wonderful man in the world," she whispered against the soft melton wool of his coat. "I know that makes absolutely no sense but my whole world seems to have turned topsy-turvy of late."
"It makes perfect sense. Life is full of confusions and contradictions. It makes you ache abominably, only to fill you with joy at the most unexpected moments." He gently stroked his finger across her cheek. "We must simply do our best to keep our equilibrium through all the highs and lows."
"Even if the lows seem to plunge you into a chasm deeper and darker than the pits of Hell."
Without hesitation, Rafael answered with a firm, "Yes."
Kyra slowly slid her arms around him, reveling in the feel of his lithe muscles and broad back.
"Nothing is so bleak as you describe if you do not try to face it alone," he added.
Trust. That word again, its echo rising up to taunt and torment her. Or maybe it was the demons in her head who were the tormentors. Might it truly be possible to silence them?
"You may be horrified," she said in a small voice. "You see, before I share with you the details of Matherton's demand, I must first tell you the whole truth about me."
"I shall never be horrified." He drew her even closer, wrapping her in his strength and support. “Never.”
The words seemed to make the decision for her—they simply spilled out of their own accord. "As I told you, I'm guilty of sins of the flesh. That's shameful enough, but it is even more sordid. I... I enjoyed it."
His hold remained unflinchingly strong and steady. "You think that shameful?"
"O-Only wicked and wanton females take pleasure in such intimacies," she stammered.
"What utter fustian." He shifted, and all at once his palms were framing her face. "There is nothing more beautiful and joyful than two people sharing delight in both body and sou
l. Love is expressed most fully through every essence of our being."
She felt as if a ray of sunlight had suddenly pierced the iron-gray clouds shrouding her spirits.
"I assure you, querida, any man worth his salt would wish for his lady to equally enjoy the act of love."
"Y-you make it sound sublime, rather sordid."
"It is," replied Rafael. "With the right person, and with all the right reasons."
"I..." Kyra looked up to find his lips were only a hairsbreadth away from hers. She lifted her chin.
Flesh touched flesh in a gossamer-soft kiss.
In another heartbeat...
Woof. Nosing open the door, Hero burst into the room, a waggling blur of shaggy fur and flailing paws. Woof, woof.
"Ah, here you are, my dear." The duke followed at a more dignified pace. "I..." He cleared his throat with a brusque cough. "Forgive me. I thought your guests had departed."
Jumping back with a flustered hop, Kyra tugged her skirts free of the hound's playful nips. "Er, Mr. Greeley remained behind to, er, give his opinion on my sketches for the flower arrangements. As you know, he is very knowledgeable about botany."
"You are a cleverer fellow than I am," said her father, directing a friendly nod at Rafael. "Can't tell a peony from a petunia."
"He can even discern the difference between the new China roses and our traditional English varieties," added Kyra, hoping her voice didn't sound too brittle.
"Just don't ask me about lilies," said Rafael dryly.
The duke laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it." After a glance at the mantel clock, he added, "The hour is growing late, sir. You are very welcome to stay for supper."
"That is most kind of you, Your Grace, but I had best be returning to Hendrie Hall."
"Shall I summon one of the carriages?"
"Please don't trouble yourself, sir. The walking does me good. I shall just let myself out through the French doors here and be on my way." He bowed to the duke, and then to her. The smile that curled on his mouth as their eyes met for an instant sent a shiver dancing down her spine.
"A rare fellow," murmured her father as he watched Rafael cross the terrace and descend to the graveled walkway leading down to the lake, followed by a frolicking Hero. "He seems to be a man of unusual interests."
"Indeed," she said, still savoring the all-too-fleeting kiss—and yearning for more.
As Kyra turned to retie the ribbons of her portfolio and put it away, she caught his searching look. For the first time in ages, she didn't shy away. "He is, without question, quite unique."
* * *
"Ungrateful mutt—you are in danger of being sent back to Seven Dials," scolded Rafael, shooting a black look at the capering hound.
On hearing the words, Hero bounded over and licked his hand.
"Oh, very well, you are forgiven." Laughing, he tweaked the plumed tail. "I suppose it's just as well the duke did not find me with his daughter in my arms. When I make my proposal, I would prefer not to be staring down the barrel of a pistol."
Lengthening his stride, he rounded the marble folly overlooking the sun-dappled lake. A light breeze ruffled through his hair, bringing with it the chirping of the crickets and the fluttery cooing of a nearby dove. Butterflies flitted through the tangle of wild roses crowning the old stone wall, setting off bright flashes of yellow and gold against the deep pinks and greens.
Life is beautiful, he thought, lifting his face to the heavens. Just months ago, the world had seemed a grimly gray place, leached of all color. Love wielded a magical brush, painting the world in a palette of hope and joy.
"Love." He whispered it softly, then shouted it aloud, laughing softly as the echo reverberated through the trees.
Hero look back and cocked his shaggy head.
"Yes, yes, I'm a besotted fool." He grinned. "But I have good reason to celebrate."
The hound gave an encouraging woof.
Rafael couldn't help but share his elation. "I know I can trust in your discretion, amigo. We are allies, you and I, in the fight to win my lady's heart. And we have achieved a great victory today. For you see, up until now, I was battling an unknown enemy. Now that I know what I am up against, the fight becomes infinitely easier. I will of course need to know the specific threat Matherton is making. But I have every confidence that happen very soon."
That Kyra thought herself wicked and wanton for feeling desire still had him reeling. He shook his head in consternation, realizing yet again how ladies were confined within a very rigid cage of rules. A gilded cage, perhaps—but a cage nonetheless. It was no wonder that anyone with imagination and curiosity felt compelled to break free of the bars.
Sympathy quickly gave way to a more primitive emotion. That she felt desire sent a clench through his own body. "Mark my words, amigo," he said to his companion. "I will vanquish the last of her fears and win her hand in time to dance the midnight waltz at the upcoming ball."
Chapter 14
Shifting her heavy reticule, Kyra climbed over the stile and hurried to the footpath leading along the perimeter of the grazing field. In the distance, sheep dotted the long meadowgrasses, white flecks in the ripples of green and gold. Overhead, the scudding clouds mirrored the pastoral scene, their wispy puffs moved lazily across the sea of blue.
Her spirits, already buoyed by the beautiful morning, rose even higher as the bag bumped up against her hip. The book inside it was a serendipitous discovery, and she couldn't wait to share it with Rafael. Her emotions too unsettled for sleep, she had gone down to the library in the wee hours of the morning. Books were always a calming influence, and on a whim, she had chosen to wander through one of the back alcoves that held a collection of dusty old tomes acquired by her grandfather. To her delight, one of them had turned out to be a journal from an early explorer of the New World containing copious sketches of the local flora and fauna—including Theobroma cacao!
Kyra smiled, imagining his expression on seeing such a treasure. His curiosity was one of the things she loved about him. Unlike most gentlemen of privilege, he was so imaginative, open to new experiences, new ideas. Not to speak of being kind, compassionate and shockingly radical in his acceptance of women as equals.
Skirting a rock outcropping, she followed the path into a glade of coppery beech trees. Shards of sunlight glittered through the canopy of leaves, diamond-bright flashes that softened the shadows. Filling her lungs with the cool, earth-scented air, she let it out with a silent shout of joy.
Love. Giddy with wonder, Kyra finally dared to believe it was possible. Rafael hadn't found her despicable or disgusting. He knew her darkest secret and still he had kissed her so sweetly, so tenderly. She touched her lips, and felt a quiver of wry laughter. Oh, if not for Hero's bark it might have turned more passionate than tender—and the idea sent a lick of fire tingling down her spine—
A low growl jerked her from her reveries.
Hackles raised, Hero was standing stiff-legged in the path. He snarled again as a figure stepped out from the trees.
"I was hoping your habits hadn't changed and I'd find you out at this ungodly hour traipsing the fields."
Matherton's voice seemed to turn the air cold as ice.
"Call off your watchdog." Her former fiancé brandished a stout iron-tipped walking stick. "We need to talk."
She gave a soft whistle and called the hound to her side. Fisting a hand around his collar, she gave a curt nod. "Go on."
His handsome face pinched into a malevolent scowl. "Don't take that high and mighty tone with me, my dear. Have you forgotten that I can ruin your family with no more effort than this!" He snapped his fingers.
Kyra held back an angry retort. Rafael had given her the courage to believe such threats would soon cease to have any teeth. But as she had yet to explain the particulars to him, she decided to bide her time.
"I've not forgotten," she answered.
"Then I suggest you look a little more pleased to see me." He took a step closer. "After all,
we're soon to be leg-shackled and for now, people must believe that our rekindled romance is a match made in Heaven."
Or rather Hell, Kyra thought.
When she didn't answer, Matherton went on, "Indeed, I've decided the perfect place for the announcement of our nuptials is at your father's ball for Leete. Resurrection and redemption—it will bring tears of joy to even the most jaded of hearts, don't you think?"
What she thought was that he was a cold, calculating monster.
With a flick of his stick, he reached out and tipped her chin. "Speechless with joy, my dear?"
Hero lunged and snapped.
Kyra managed to keep hold of his collar and drag him back, just in time to avoid the vicious blow aimed his head.
"Oh, fie," she cried. "Only the most craven of cowards takes pleasure in hurting animals."
"Watch your tongue, Kyra," he warned, jabbing the iron point perilously close to her face. "I'll soon be the one who is holding the leash on both of you, so you ought to be trying to turn me up sweet, rather than hurling insults."
The thought made her feel a little nauseous. "W-Why so soon?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Because I'm badly dipped, and my creditors are hounding me unmercifully." His eyes sparked with malevolence as they narrowed to a slitted stare. "Do as I say and you'll have a pleasant enough life. You're interesting enough in bed that it won't be a hardship to beget a brat or two on you. Rusticating at the Grange will suit your country habits, while your father's money will allow me to have a handsome townhouse in London."
Not a penny of the Pierpont coffers would ever find its way to his pockets, vowed Kyra.
"But if you try to make trouble..." Menacing as a cobra, the stick swung back and forth in front of her face. "Just remember, I am a dangerous man to cross."
She was saved from having to answer by a loud hail. "Halloo, Kyra!"
Thanks God. Relief flooded through her as she returned Harriet's greeting.
"A lovely morning for a walk, isn't it?" added Theo as she and her friend hurried down the twisting path to join them.
Matherton's face underwent an utter transformation as he quickly schooled his features to assume a cherubic expression of sunny charm. "Good day, ladies. I couldn't agree more." He gave his walking stick an innocent little twirl. "There is nothing like a brisk stroll through the splendors of Nature to put a man in a good mood for the rest of the day."
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