A woman dangerous to his senses.
A distraction—two could play that game. “I would like the truth. I want the truth about how you came by the barrel.”
Chapter 8
She wanted to laugh at his arrogance. As if she’d simply tell him. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted both brows, regarding him in cool surprise, but inwardly her heart hammered with anger and fright. It was all she could do not to shrink back from his knowing gaze.
“What barrel?”
He frowned at her, looking irritated, then he angled his chin downward, staring at her as though she were a rodent under his foot.
“Who gave you the barrel?” he asked in an icy tone. Her resolve began to crumble. Her arms slipped to hug her waist as if in protection. She would play dumb. Most men never considered she was smart enough to outmaneuver them.
“You want the barrel? Meg has the barrel, so I can’t give it to you in payment for Caesar’s services.”
But then she’d forgotten he was not like any man she’d ever met.
Despite his best intentions, his temper cracked. His desire to conquer the woman before him was a powerful yearning inside him—he vowed he would crush any tender feelings for this infuriating vixen, beauty or not.
“Who gave you the barrel?” he suddenly bellowed without warning. “The barrel I found you trapped by, on the cliff the other day.”
Her green eyes were wide and filled with innocent shock. “Cliffs? I don’t remember seeing you alone on the cliffs, ever.” She paused for emphasis. “If I tell you about the barrel, I’ll have to tell my brother and Lord Hale what you did to me. The whole truth ...”
His mouth firmed. So this was how she would play it.
What started as a perfect lead in his quest to find a smuggler and subsequent traitor now resembled a Shakespearean tragedy.
Miss Kerrich was not a local wench he could accuse of lying. Nor would Lady Hale approve of his treatment of Miss Kerrich. Lady Hale had been so kind to his mother, he’d hate to disappoint her, or worse ruin his mother’s relationship with her one true supporter. Without any evidence he had nothing to charge her with. His pulse hitched a notch. Miss Kerrich made a challenging adversary. She was a bright, intelligent woman, who for the past eight years had singlehandedly managed to hold a bankrupt estate together.
There was every possibility she knew Dark Shadow. Smuggling would seem the logical means to stay afloat in the wilds of Kent. Her estate’s agricultural ventures would not have earned enough to save her.
Tonight was proof enough that she was not opposed to “taking” whatever she required. Her bold plan to use Caesar without Rufus’s permission was all the evidence he needed.
He raised an eyebrow. “I see. Let’s change the topic then. You seem keen to discuss payment for Caesar’s services.”
She wetted her lips with a nervous flick of her tongue. He was finally getting to her. “What do you suggest?” she asked.
“You should be nervous. I’m the one you’d better worry about now,” he warned in a low voice. “Your mares’ ownership is in my hands.”
Rheda stared at him intensely as if weighing up what challenge he truly posed.
“I have no means of immediately paying you. If you could give me more time I will endeavor to come up with the money.”
He stared at her. Running his eye over her body, watching her face flush knowing what he was seeing. “I’m not interested in money.”
“You’re disgusting,” she snapped with a flash of renewed temper.
He swallowed a sharp retort and calmly stated, “A few days ago I’d hardly call your response as disgust. Quite the opposite in fact. You all but melted in my arms.”
She looked wildly around her, as if trying to locate any avenue of escape. When she found none, her shoulders straightened and her demeanor changed. The tigress was back. Rufus couldn’t help but be impressed.
The hellion in front of him clenched her fists and lifted her chin. “Stop playing with me. What is it you want? The sooner you get it, the sooner you can leave me alone.”
“The last thing I’d like to do is leave you alone, sweet Rhe,” he murmured, his tone deliberately low and silken.
Rheda took a step back.
He followed. It was time she became a little afraid. Her scent wafted up through the balmy night, and he simply had not been prepared for his body’s response. In addition, the sight of her plump derriere had caused his groin to ache. All he could think about was taking her, bending her over the fallen tree trunk behind her, and possessing her body.
Bloody hell, he’d been driven to possess her from the first moment he laid eyes on her. Yet this incessant need to conquer, this lust, was more dangerous, more compelling than mere attraction. Remember Marguerite.
“You have courage, I’ll give you that. You openly defy me, knowing the trouble you are in, and refuse to give me what I want.” He smiled thinly, studying her, trying to judge her next move. A suspicion flared. “Are you protecting someone?”
Her body tensed and she looked away. So she was protecting someone. Who? Her look became more mutinous. How far would she go to protect the source of her barrel? What would make her break? He had to find the key to her cooperation—soon. Until then he had to devise a way to keep this beauty in his sights. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”
She gave a small shrug. “There is nothing to tell.”
“I don’t believe you. Until I find out the truth of how you came by that barrel, you and I are going to become very close friends.”
“I ... don’t understand.”
“Surely you can grasp my meaning. Your mind is like a steel trap.” Rufus swore under his breath. Perhaps he was unwise to instigate the idea circling in his mind, but he could not afford to wait. He needed information, and fast. Time was running out. He was sure his plan would disturb him far more than it would her.
He caged his lust and, keeping his features enigmatic, said, “I require your services for the next month in lieu of payment for Caesar’s pedigree.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious. I shall even agree to Caesar servicing your mares for as long as they are in heat. In return, you will be at my beck and call. Any time of the day or night I require your services, you will oblige me.”
Her jaw clenched. He could almost hear her inner battle—the trade-off, her horse stud dream or her pride. The silence stretched into the approaching dawn. He could wait all night if he had to.
“You would force me to be your mistress? You’d ruin me.” Her voice had risen.
He met her hot gaze levelly. “Only moments ago you informed me you had no reputation to ruin. Among other things, I wish you to be my social secretary or hostess for the month. I am looking for property in the area, and I would like you to aid me in the search. If, in addition and by your own free will, you wish to share my bed, I would welcome it.”
She gave him a scathing look. “I’d never willingly share your bed.”
“I beg to differ. Only a few days ago I could have bedded you without too much effort.”
“As I recall, I said no.”
“But I didn’t try very hard. You’ve yet to experience my more persuasive methods.” He took a step toward her. “Care for a demonstration?”
She tensed and his body’s natural response to her charms diminished. She still refused to admit her desire. Drawing a sharp breath, she took a step backward to a safer distance.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he chided, seizing her around the waist as she tried to flee. She let out a small shriek and fought him as best she could, but Rufus was undeterred, easily restraining her.
He laughed. “Calm down. I’ll make you a promise. I won’t take you if you’re unwilling. I give you my word.” His lips nuzzled the soft skin of her throat. “At the moment I’m more interested in your knowledge of local matters than your acquaintance with more carnal topics.”
Liar. With every rapid pulse
kicking in his groin he wanted to sink between her thighs.
“It’s simply that you have knowledge of the people and places around Deal. You have lived in the area all your life. You know everyone, and all the estates in the area. Men would not see you as a threat when discussing pricing. But I know differently. Your beautiful face hides a mind as sharp as a rapier’s point, a most useful weapon for me to wield.”
She struggled in his grip, her plump breasts pushing fully against his chest. He felt himself harden.
“And what exactly will my duties be?”
He bit his tongue to stop an unsuitable “duty” from slipping out. He moved his hips so she could feel the evidence of his arousal. After all he’d been through over the past few days she deserved to be frightened just a little, but he needed her cooperation. “Nothing that would cause your ruin.”
She twisted and managed to flee his hold and back away from him, as if her life depended on it. “I would never have relations with you, even if it was my only chance of getting out of hell.”
He strode after her, his thoughts turning more primal as he took in her swaying hips. There was a reason women did not wear breeches.
“Have you forgotten your brother is in the house behind us? One word would have him handing ownership of your mares to me.”
She ignored him and continued walking.
“One month. One month is all I ask. I would like you to help me navigate the local gentry. I could call on you. It may even enhance your reputation.”
“You rate yourself too highly, my lord. Your reputation is tarnished, too.”
“Then help me out of the goodness of your own heart. Tell me who has estates to sell and the reasons behind the sale—which families were being forced to sell due to financial woes. Not much to ask considering what price the offspring of Caesar will bring you.” He paused hoping to get a positive response, but Rheda merely sighed. He cleared his throat. “In addition, it would help me manage mothers with marriageable daughters in the area.”
Rheda’s laugh was filled with wry amusement. She halted so suddenly he almost tripped over her as she swung back to him. “You must think me simple. A man as skilled at dodging the parson’s noose needs protection from local mothers with marriageable daughters? Hardly.” She cocked her head. “Still, I can see how when a man is trying to find a smuggler, mamas with marriage on the brain could be most annoying.”
He clenched his hands at his side. She knew he wanted the source of her barrel and guessed it was to find a smuggler, yet she still refused to give him a name. She had to know who Dark Shadow was. He grew more determined to break her cool reserve.
“Has Mrs. Rathborne cornered you already? She’s been trying to marry Mildred off to Christopher for the past twelve months.” With a laughing gleam in her eye she added, “I bet Mrs. Rathborne was the first woman he persuaded his mother to invite to your welcome dinner.”
Rufus found himself gritting back a reply. Christopher? Lord Hale’s name on her lips sounded intimate. It shouldn’t bother him in the least. Yet his body buzzed with jealousy.
“If you were to accompany me while I was in Kent, the implication would be there and I would likely not be bothered.”
She gave a very unladylike snort. “I doubt that. You heard the gossip tonight. I have not a shred of respectability left in the district. A woman like Mrs. Rathborne would not see me as an impediment to marrying her daughter to Viscount Strathmore.”
“And that would upset you?”
She looked like she was about to expand on that point but instead said, “Your wealth and status would overcome her objections to your behavior with Rheda Kerrich, the local fallen woman. She would assume a man of your status was simply engaging in a dalliance while in Kent. That would not advance my good character.”
“Very likely. However, it can’t hurt, either. Alternatively, tell me the truth about the barrel now and your help is not required.”
“You’re not listening to me, my lord.” She looked away. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m immune to your charms, or have you forgotten?”
The tone of her voice, haughty and disdainful, left him in no doubt she would never help him unless forced to. “Your memory seems to be very selective. I can still recall how responsive you were in my arms.” A fierce surge of heat flooded his body at the memory of her soft curves beneath his. “You were very tempting. I have never met a ‘lady’ who romps around the countryside dressed so inappropriately.” He wanted to punish her. “Nor one who succumbs quite so readily to a stranger’s seduction. So don’t tell me you’re immune. I know from experience that you want me.”
She gasped, and he caught her hand before it reached his face.
“I wouldn’t advise it. You have tried my temper to its limits tonight. My offer is fair. The price of Caesar’s stud services are almost five thousand pounds. You’re a smart woman. You’d be a fool to refuse.”
He lowered her hand to her side, and she didn’t fight him. In fact, she seemed to be seriously considering his proposal. He pushed his advantage.
“With the money you will make off just two of Caesar’s progeny, you could buy more than a dozen mares.”
Rheda shut her eyes. He watched her struggling with her dilemma. She opened them, and he saw his victory within their swirling depths.
She gave a strained smile. “But what good is a dozen or so mares with no stallion to service them?” She chewed her bottom lip; the sight sent more jolts of lust to his groin. “I will agree to your payment solution if I can have Caesar back to service the mares I buy from the first offspring.”
His expression sobered. She was clever, very clever. So clever he wondered if he was doing the right thing. “You’re agreeing to my offer?”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “What choice do I have? To save my dreams of owning a horse stud I have to make a pact with the devil. So be it. I’m a realist, Lord Strathmore. I’ll get what I want, but I warn you, my lord, I’m sure you’ll be left wanting.”
He smiled at her sharp tongue. “I always get what I want, and right now, I’d like a kiss to seal the deal, Rheda.”
He said her name softly, his tone almost a caress. His proposal was dangerous, but to call his bluff, to decline his offer, would mean untold suffering for all those she loved.
If she was discovered smuggling, Daniel’s chance of a good marriage and restoring the de Winter name to prominence would be destroyed. Also without the horse stud, what would happen to the villagers of Deal once Dark Shadow was no more? What would happen to those who had nothing? Those she kept clothed and fed?
It did not signify that her reputation would be ruined. She felt honor bound to continue the financial help the villagers now relied upon. The pounding pain in her head struck her anew. She had no choice but to fall in with his plan. But she’d not make it easy for him.
“There is one more thing—Rufus.” She gave in and used his name, wanting him relaxed for her next request.
He sighed. “What now? Is there more? Do you want me to tell Caesar to be gentle?”
She rolled her eyes. “You must promise me Daniel is never to know about our arrangement. It would destroy him. I may not care about my reputation, but he does. I’m the only family he’s got.”
He remained silent.
She pressed her point. “My brother shouldn’t suffer for my behavior. So, before you get heady with victory, my lord, what do you propose to do about my brother?”
That wiped the smile off his face.
He tapped his fingers to his chin, and his eyebrows drew together as he thought. He sighed. “I shall simply have to look as though I am courting you. I’m sure your brother would welcome such a suitable match given your reputation.” She gasped, horrified. “It would not be any hardship to pretend to be captivated by your beauty,” he added, his voice a husky entreaty.
“Daniel will no doubt read more into your proposition than you’d like. When you leave, he’s unlikely to take your ‘us
e’ of me quietly. He’s a marked swordsman, by the way.”
“He’s a mere boy, hardly a threat. You’re right, though. I wouldn’t want to cause your brother any further shame.” He looked at the ground and tugged his cuffs. Finally, he turned back to her. “I shall ensure that I give you a very public reason to refuse my offer and to douse any expectations. The sin will be mine. Satisfied?” If he could clear his father’s name, he’d not have to worry about a maligned courtship.
She heard him talk but didn’t hear his words. Her gaze focused on his lips. He had a beautiful mouth, she thought. The very idea of kissing him sent her nerves fizzing.
“Now shall we seal our deal? With a kiss, sweetheart?” His smile full of teasing couldn’t shock her out of her dreamy state. “I need practice in my courting skills.” Caught in his hypnotizing stare, she stood as still as the night while he bent slightly to bring his mouth into delicate contact with hers. It was a mere brushing of flesh against flesh, barely that, and yet she felt the sensation like a burning brand. Abruptly she shivered.
When he lifted his gaze, she could see satisfaction in his warm brown eyes.
With a casual finger, he stroked down her back and over the crease where her trousers molded her bottom. She felt his finger all the way through her clothes.
“While I much prefer my women naked, you do look enticing in trousers. Remind me to make you wear them another time so that I may have the pleasure of stripping them off you while I kiss down your long slender legs. You have the legs of a gazelle if I remember correctly.” His voice was husky, a low caress.
Alarm rose within her; he was so sure of himself. So sure she’d succumb to his skills as a lover, and that was definitely not part of their deal.
She couldn’t hide the tremble in her voice. “Have we finished here tonight, my lord?”
“Please, call me Rufus.”
Invitation to Scandal Page 8