Chapter 15
"How..." began Harriet, but Kyra quickly cut off any further questions.
"Mr. Greeley is right. Matherton has far too much experience in treachery and conniving. Let us not be guilty of the same hubris he shows—it would be foolhardy to think we can beat him at his own game through our own wiles." She found her voice was surprisingly steady. Somehow the deep sapphirine glow of Rafael's gaze had calmed all her fears.
"So, you are willing to trust Rafe to play the hero?" said Jack with a faint smile.
"Yes. Wholeheartedly," replied Kyra. "Though I do hope you shall lend a hand."
"I doubt he will need me to lift a finger." A twinkle lit in Jack's eye. "But of course I shall be watching his back."
Harriet looked about to speak up, then seemed to hesitate for a fraction before going on. "You are right, Kyra. It would be foolish not to defer to those who have more practical experience in warfare. And besides, it is your battle to fight, so the final decision must rest with you."
"Absolutely," agreed Theo. "Just tell us how we can help."
Kyra gave her new friends a grateful smile. "Your help has already been invaluable. Indeed, without the support of all of you, I would never have found the strength to stand up to Matherton's threats."
"Love and friendship is a match for any evil," said Rafael softly.
Love. The word sent warmth spiraling through her core. He had not yet said the word in any personal way. Nor had she. But in that instant, it seemed to thrum between them, a mysterious, magical force that defied description.
"Ohhhh." Theo let out a soulful sigh. "What a lovely sentiment. I vow, it makes me feel as if I could slay dragons."
"I'll settled for skewering a dastard," muttered Harriet.
"Which we shall do," replied Rafael.
"I don't suppose you'll tell us what you have in mind?"
"Not at the moment, Miss Farnum. There are several things that need to be put in motion, and if you don't mind, I ought to start without delay. My first visit must be London. When I am sure of the particulars, you ladies will be the first to know."
Both Harriet and Theo rose from the sofa. "Then we should be off."
Jack gave a small stretch and pushed up from his perch on the worktable. "Allow me to escort you home."
"Playing the knight errant?" Harriet's brows rose. "Good heavens, that is not a role you embrace often."
"Actually, I was planning on taking a morning walk for my own health, so have no fear that I am turning altruistic. It is merely killing two birds with one stone."
"Let us hope nothing is slain along the way," replied Harriet dryly. "Especially your reputation for devil-may-care nonchalance."
He appeared amused by her needling and inclined an ironic bow.
Though loath to leave Rafael's comforting presence, Kyra gathered her skirts and rose as well.
"A moment, Lady Kyra," he said. "Might I have a private word with you before you go?"
Jack's lazy grin turned more serious. "Shall we wait? I doubt Matherton is still lurking in the woods, but for now it is probably best to err on the side of caution."
"No need," replied Rafael. "I shall see Lady Kyra home."
His cousin snapped off a jaunty salute and the door closed, leaving the two them alone.
For a moment neither of them moved.
"Matherton didn't touch you, did he?" Though his voice was barely above a whisper, it had a steely edge that sent a trill down her spine. "He didn't hurt you?"
"No, he merely unsettled me with his sudden appearance."
He said something low and rough in Spanish, and as the light gilded his profile, a fine-spun gold ridging the olive-dark chiseling of his features, she was reminded that there was a harder side—a warrior side—to him.
A flicker of a smile suddenly softened his face. "Ah, querida. Just a little while longer and then you need never fear him again."
Hard yet soft. Strong, yet sensitive. And an infinite range of intriguing nuances that would need a lifetime to explore.
"Strangely enough, I fear nothing when you are near," she whispered. "Not even my own doubts and weaknesses."
"Then I hope..." Two swift steps and suddenly she was enfolded in his arms. "I hope you will allow me to always be close."
Kyra pressed her cheek to his shoulder, reveling in the warmth of his skin pulsing through the layers of wool and linen, the spicy scent of shaving soap, the reassuring strength of his hold. "Would that it were possible."
He gently tucked the wind-loosened strands of hair behind her ear. "It is, querida. You have only to say 'yes' to my proposal of marriage."
"You can't want to marry me," she rasped, once she had swallowed the lump in her throat.
Rafael lifted her face, and through her tear-pearled lashes, all she could see was the jewel-bright glitter of his sapphire eyes. "Oh, but I do."
"I'm reckless, I'm selfish, I'm tainted with scandal, I'm..." She sucked in a ragged breath. "I'm all wrong for you."
"You're passionate, you're kind-hearted, you're imaginative, you're full of life." Rafael brushed a kiss to her brow. "You're perfect for me."
"But—"
He touched a fingertip to her lips. "Come, my love, let us look to the future, not the past."
Love. Rafael loved her?
Her heart skipped a beat, and then suddenly that fleeting whisper of breath gave her the courage to believe that old mistakes might be left behind.
"Truly? You wish to marry me?"
The curl of his mouth sent a wave of joy undulating through her body. "If you'll have me."
Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him close. "I want you truly, madly, fiercely." Tears were coursing down her cheeks. "I love you so much it hurts."
A kiss blotted the salt from her skin. Then his mouth found hers and all she tasted was a sweetness beyond words.
"It is time to leave pain behind you," he murmured after a lengthy embrace. "Together, let us feel only happiness and excitement for all the wonder that we shall share from this moment forward."
"Yes," said Kyra. "Yes, yes, yes."
"Dare I hope that one of those means you've consented to be my wife?"
"Yes." She smiled and then said it again.
"Bueno." Rafael leaned in, his breath tickling her lips. "Then I may, in good conscience, give you a real kiss."
* * *
At her shuddering response, a clench of desire took hold of him. That she took pleasure in his touch filled him with elation—they were entwined, body and spirit in perfect harmony.
Dios Madre, it took all of his self-control to remember that he must behave as perfect gentleman. She had been betrayed by a dastard unworthy of the title, and not for the world would he have her think that he would trifle with her honor.
Rafael let his mouth linger a moment longer, drinking in the ethereal taste of her essence—a delicate spice far more nuanced than the finest chocolate. Then he reluctantly pulled back a fraction.
The loss of her warmth suddenly felt his skin filling chilled despite the motes of sunlight dancing all around them.
She, too, seemed to feel bereft of the connection. A wordless protest sounded in her throat as her eyes slowly opened. Their color—a smoky, sensuous hue that nearly made him come undone—flickered through her lashes.
"Must we stop?" she asked.
"I fear so, else I shall become a snabbering, primitive beast."
"I—I don't mind."
"Ah, don't tempt me, querida." Rafael kissed the tip of her nose. "We shall have a lifetime to explore our passions after the wedding. But until then, I will distract myself from your glorious charms by concentrating on how to see that Matherton is well punished for his sins."
The mention of her tormentor drove some of the color from Kyra's cheeks. "Please don't do anything dangerous," she said, her voice turning taut with tension. "I couldn't bear it if you were hurt."
"I won't be," he assured her. "What I have in mind for him wil
l be far more effective than a physical pummeling."
"What—"
"Nay, my love. You'll learn of the details once I have everything arranged. Until then, just trust me."
The look of alarm gave way to a smile. "With all my heart."
It was all he could do to keep from enfolding her in another long and lingering embrace. "Come, let me see you home, and then I must be off to London."
"W-will you be gone long?" she asked as they cut across the back lawns and turned down the footpath connecting the two estates.
"A night, maybe two," answered Rafael. He took several strides before adding, "I've a difficult task to ask of you, but it plays a key role in bringing about Matherton's ultimate demise."
"Whatever it is, I shall gladly do it."
"You mentioned that he plans on paying a call on you and your father."
She nodded. "Yes, he will press me to agree to announce the betrothal. I imagine he thinks doing so at the Manor will remind me that the threat he is making can ruin all that Papa holds dear."
"I want you to agree."
A spasm of surprise crossed her face, but she quickly composed herself. "I... very well. But what shall I tell Papa? I don't think he will believe my heart is engaged." A sigh. "And I'd rather not tell him any lies. He's been hurt enough by this whole sordid affair."
He thought for a moment. "Why not tell him the truth?"
Kyra turned so abruptly that her half boot snagged on a root and caused her to stumble. "You mean all about Matherton's threat? But then... he would know the truth about... everything."
"Love, friendship, trust," he murmured. "You've seen what powerful forces they are when you dare to believe in them."
In the long, leafy shadows, her expression flickered between wary and thoughtful.
"It is, of course, your decision what details you choose to share with your father," he went on. "But if you prefer to simply ask that he spread the word to the guests that a betrothal will be announced at midnight, it would not be a lie. And in fact, it would make Matherton confident that all is going as he planned."
"But you think I should tell him everything?"
He shook his head. "Nay, I shall never presume to tell you what you ought to do, Kyra. I respect your judgment. Only you can decide what is best."
"You are," she murmured, "a most remarkable man in every way."
"I hope you won't be disappointed when you discover my many foibles," he said wryly.
Kyra reached for his hand and lifted it to her lips. "You could never disappoint me," she said, brushing a kiss to the back of his knuckles.
They walked on in companionable silence, skirting the apple orchard and making their way up the sloping lawns to the back terrace.
"If you wish for me to come in and speak with your Father, I would be happy to do so," he said.
"You are fighting enough of my battles for me. This is one that I must handle myself."
"Trust—you must trust yourself. Just remember, whatever you choose to tell your father, our real plans must remain a secret. Matherton mustn't guess that he will be dancing to a very unpleasant tune at Jack's ball." A glance showed that none of the gardeners were working close by, so he caught her in a quick embrace. "I must be off, then. Until later."
"Please promise me to be careful, Rafael," she said abruptly as he turned retrace his steps.
He gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, querida. I am always a very cautious fellow. War quickly teaches you never to underestimate an enemy."
"It's just that I've come to see that Matherton is diabolically cunning and has no scruples. That makes him... dangerous."
"So am I," he replied quietly. "Far more than he is when those I love are threatened."
The shadows clouding her gaze lightened.
"You need not be fearful on my account," he went on. "And as for you, I wouldn't leave you if I thought there was any chance of trouble."
Though a touch of trepidation lingered, she forced a small laugh. "I feel quite safe with Hero and Harriet guarding against any mischief."
"A formidable pair, indeed." Rafael pressed his fingers to his lips and blew her a kiss. "Adios, querida. Unless I am much mistaken, when I return, I shall have the means to make Matherton quickly learn he has made a grave mistake in thinking you are alone and at the mercy of his machinations."
* * *
Kyra paused in front of the foyer mirror to remove her bonnet and re-pin the errant wisps of windblown hair. How strange, she mused, touching her fingertips to where Rafael's kiss still tingled on her lips. Her face appeared unchanged a whit since her morning ablutions, and yet she felt like an entirely different person.
Like a phoenix, rising in multi-colored splendor from a pile of ash-gray coals. A fanciful, fairie tale image, perhaps. But she was in fanciful, fairie tale sort of mood, where happily-ever-after stories seemed possible.
A magical bird could be reborn with glorious new plumage. A sleeping princess could be awoken from a dark, deathlike sleep by a prince's kiss.
Her dreamy sigh fogged the glass, drawing her back from such thoughts. She quickly straightened her bodice and smoothed her skirts, then turned resolutely and headed for the stairs.
The duke was at work in his study. A gruff growl answered her knock, but undeterred, she pushed the door open.
"Forgive me for disturbing you Papa, but might I have a word with you."
"Oh, it's you, my dear—of course, of course." Grimacing, he took off his spectacles and dropped them on the blotter. "I thought it was Mifflin, come to badger me about planting mangel-wurzels instead of turnips in the south fields."
"You are opposed to the idea?"
"All these havey-cavey ideas about agriculture," grumbled the duke. "I would much rather have my nose buried in a history book than a boring treatise on soil nutrients and crop rotation."
"You are very fond of Mifflin," she reminded him. "And all his other suggestions have turned out very well."
He blew out his cheeks. "So they have." A grin tugged at his mouth. "I will eventually allow myself to be dragged into the new century, but I shall go kicking and screaming."
"I cannot quite picture you kicking and screaming, Papa. You are far too distinguished. And besides, your valet would swoon if you were to scuff the mirror-like gloss of your Hessians. Gorman confided to me that, like Brummel, he uses champagne in his special polish."
Her father chuckled. "Does he? I shall have to add a new lock to the wine cellar." The laughter then slowly faded from his face. "Do I appear such a pompous popinjay to you?" he asked hesitantly. "I know it was very hard on you girls, losing your mother at such an early age. I have tried, but..."
Kyra crossed the carpet and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have been a wonderful parent, Papa. It is I who have..." She drew in a deep breath. "But perhaps we should both stop looking to the past and focus on the future."
He covered her hand with his.
"As to that, I wish to discuss a matter concerning... the upcoming ball."
"If there is a problem with the hothouses and the flowers—"
"No, no, the flowers are looking splendid. It has to do with..."
How to broach the subject? Despite Rafael's encouragement, it still was not easy to speak about her folly, especially to her father.
But as the silence grew louder, Rafael's words began to echo softly inside her head. Trustlovetrustlove.
Trust. Love. Trust love.
"It has to do with Lord Matherton."
The duke's eyes clouded with concern.
Dropping her gaze, she went, "He is visiting the area and will be attending the ball as part of Lord Dunster's party. I encountered him several days ago during one of my walks, and we have spoken several times since then."
"I see." Her father's voice was expressionless.
"He will likely be calling here," said Kyra. "To pay his respects."
Her gaze was fixed on the far windows, but even so, she was acutely aware o
f his searching stare. "With your blessing?"
She hesitated in answering.
"I had not thought your affections were still engaged, not after the way he abandoned you after the accident." The tightly measured control of his voice then betrayed a ripple of emotion as he muttered, "It was a damned ungentlemanly and cowardly thing to do."
"I—I thought you approved of him."
The duke rubbed at his brow. "You seemed to have your heart set on him, and as your mother and I had made a love match against my own father's wishes, I did not wish to play the tyrant with you. Matherton was from a good family, and I knew nothing to his discredit, save for the fact that his charm seemed too oily for my taste. In retrospect—"
"In retrospect, I should have see him for what he was," she blurted out. "A schemer who cared more for my dowry and your patronage than he ever did for me."
Levering his broad bulk out of his chair, he enfolded her in a fatherly hug. The faint crackle of starch and scent of his shaving soap brought a rush of childhood memories. How dearly she had missed the safe haven of his arms.
"Oh, Papa," she mumbled against his shoulder. "What a fool I have been."
"Let us have none of that, missy," said the duke gruffly." If anyone has been the fool, it is I. But that is all behind us."
Kyra held him tightly, savoring the comforting warmth of his body and steady pulsing of his heart. Touch and feel—Rafael had made her so joyfully aware that physical connection was a powerful part of love.
"As for Matherton, have no fear that he will pester you anymore. When that jackanape shows up at the door, I shall send him away with a flea in his ear."
"No!" she exclaimed, pulling back in alarm. "That is, it's not quite so simple."
Her father's brow furrowed in question.
"I..." Her newfound courage faltered. "I would rather not explain all the details, Papa." There were some things a father shouldn't have to know. "He has made some threats—"
"The scoundrel!" rasped the duke. "I shall darken his deadlights—"
"I have every confidence that he will be punished for his perfidy, Papa. But please, you mustn't go off half-cocked. You see, Mr. Greeley has a plan."
"Greeley, eh?" His look of rage gave way to a more bemused expression. "Now there is a steady, sensible fellow." He picked up his spectacles and polished them on his sleeve, then set them down again. "I like him."
Sweeter Than Sin Page 16