Sarah Elliott

by The Rake's Proposal

  Then with a moan of his own, unable to wait any longer, Ben was inside her, thrusting home, pausing only slightly at the tug of her maidenhead. Kate felt no pain, only the slightest discomfort at the breach, but then the sweetest sensation as he began to move. She had no idea what was going on inside of her, only knew that it intensified with every thrust, that she could hardly bear it, that she never wanted it to stop. Then, in a thousand lights of pleasure, the feeling exploded, sending shock waves pulsing down to the tips of her toes. She called out his name, and he met her cry with a kiss, driving hard, harder, until he climaxed with a pleasure so strong it made him shake.

  Neither of them moved for several minutes, too shaken to do more than lie very still, hearts pounding. But eventually Ben dragged himself off her, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her face.

  “How do you feel?”

  Kate considered this question for a moment. She felt incredible, every sense alert, her body alive. She wanted to touch him, to explore his body some more, taking her time without the cloud of passion that had enveloped her. But she also felt vulnerable beneath his perceptive gaze. She had just undergone the most momentous experience of her life, and she wasn’t sure that the feeling was mutual.

  “Fine.”

  He leaned over and gently kissed her on the lips. At her blush, he laughed, rolling over onto his back and bringing her with him so that she lay across his chest.

  “Just fine? I’ll have to try harder next time.”

  “No! I mean, I feel wonderful,” she protested, afraid that he’d make her lose control again. He only chuckled.

  “Umm…how do you feel?” Kate nearly cringed as she asked this question, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to know the answer.

  “Fine,” Ben answered solemnly, then gave a mock grunt when she hit him playfully in the chest. “I’m sorry. I meant I feel wonderful, too.”

  He didn’t add that he’d felt pleasure like he’d never felt before, that he was already thinking about making love to her again, that if he’d known she’d been a virgin he would have tried a lot harder to resist her…as if he could have. He’d always stayed clear of virgins, far too wary of the complications they presented. In fact, he hadn’t made love to a virgin since he, too, had been an inexperienced lad of sixteen. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of Kate’s innocence, other than that he’d been surprised as hell by it, given her twenty-four years, the circumstances of the evening and her passionate response. He’d also felt a wave of possessiveness, satisfaction and relief unlike any he’d ever known, but he tried not to examine these feelings too closely.

  Thinking about her virginity made reality rush back to his brain, superseding his post-lovemaking euphoria. Ben felt like a bounder, and for good reason. He’d not only made love to an innocent, but to the innocent younger sister of his best friend. Sure, he’d done his part to avoid her by leaving London, but even as he tried to justify his behavior, he knew he was only making excuses. He’d spent nearly five months in the country waiting for Rob’s wedding to arrive just so he could see Kate again, and from the moment he’d seen her he’d thought about her almost nonstop.

  Ben was truly angry with himself for getting into this predicament, and his anger suddenly and irrationally included Kate. He knew that she was all but engaged to Philip Bannister—it was common knowledge. He’d seen the proprietary way Bannister had looked at her over dinner, not to mention that she had as much as told him so herself. Could she have forgotten it so quickly? Ben couldn’t forget it for a minute.

  And yet here she was, in bed with him.

  It shouldn’t have bothered him that she was being disloyal; in fact, Ben had always rather disliked Philip and couldn’t care less if Kate made a cuckold of him. But her infidelity did bother him, whether she was formally engaged or not. For whatever reason, he expected more from her than he did from other women.

  He looked at her hard, immediately suspicious. He knew she was looking for a husband, and he’d be damned if she’d turn her machinations on him.

  “You’ve surprised me, you know…so passionate. How is it possible that you aren’t already married, with a child on the way?” He was being deliberately cruel again and knew it.

  Kate blinked, stunned at the sudden change that had come over him. “What?”

  “That’s your plan, isn’t it? You told me so yourself. Whatever will your husband think when he finds out that his wife just couldn’t wait for the marriage bed?”

  Kate was stunned. Her emotions were still jumbled from making love, and her brain too foggy to make sense out of what was happening. How could he could say this to her after what they had just shared? She wanted to hit him, or throw something or scream, but for once she refrained; she was too painfully aware that what he said was true, and her dread overpowered her fury.

  “I will tell him…before we are wed,” she said, carefully picking her words and fighting back tears.

  “You think he’ll still want you?” Ben asked with studied casualness as he climbed out of bed and pulled on his trousers. He hated himself as he said these cruel words, but for some reason he could not stop.

  Kate did not know what to say. She quickly began yanking on her clothes, few as they were. She bit her lip to keep from crying, but hot, hurt tears trailed down her cheeks nonetheless. Blinded by anger, she shoved past Ben, pulled open the door and slammed it shut behind her, oblivious to the risk she ran by making such a loud noise in the crowded, sleeping house. So overcome by rage and embarrassment, she didn’t hear the sound of him cursing at his stupidity behind the closed door.

  She raced down the hall, tears streaming down her face, not knowing what to do. She’d never been so intentionally hurt before, had never felt like such a fool. How could she have let her defenses down? How had she been stupid enough to trust him? She’d been kidding herself, pretending that he felt differently about her, that he wasn’t using her, that he actually cared.

  She paused at the top of the stairs, not remembering which direction would take her to her room. Peshley was huge, and Ben’s room seemed to be in a wing opposite of hers.

  “Kate.”

  She swung around, not having heard Ben walk up behind her.

  “Kate—just wait a moment so I can explain…”

  She wasn’t waiting for an explanation, was too angry to listen to anything he had to say. She bolted down the steps, not caring if she was headed in the right direction, only caring that she put as much space between them as possible. He waited a moment, debating whether to follow, then cursed, heading down the stairs in her wake.

  At the bottom of the steps, she turned a quick left and opened the first door she came to, hoping to elude Ben. It was the study, and she entered without pause, almost smiling at her good fortune. The study let out into the conservatory, and from there she could cross the lawn to her wing of the house.

  “Kate!”

  She didn’t bother to look behind her to see how far Ben followed. Instead, she slammed the study door, dashed across the room and through the next door into the dark conservatory. Blindly, she edged down the path, brushing past unseen plants, knocking over a pot and hearing it shatter.

  “Kate!” he called after her, entering the conservatory to follow.

  She pressed on, taking a path that twisted sharply to the right, feeling with her hands, listening for the sound of Ben’s footsteps behind her. Blind in the darkness, her other senses grew more acute: she heard the rustle of branches being pushed apart, the shuffle of feet on the ground, the sound of breathing, close, much closer than it should have been. Kate stopped dead in her tracks, visionless but suddenly certain that she was not alone. Her mind clouded by recent events, she had thought only to run away from Ben. It hadn’t occurred to her that someone else might be out there, and that she was running to them. Until now.

  “Ben?”

  There was no answer, only the quick motion of an arm reaching out from behind her. She had barely enough time to cal
l out, briefly and sharply, before a fist struck her in the face, just above her left eye. She stumbled back, feeling total blackness threaten. Kate didn’t lose consciousness, but her body felt limp and numb, and she closed her eyes, trying to fight the bolts of searing pain that throbbed in her head. She turned to try to escape, but she was unfamiliar with the conservatory and could barely see anyway. Her attacker grabbed her by the hair and she had just enough time to cry out once more before he stuffed a rag in her mouth and tied it behind her head to stifle her. Then he picked her up, hefting her over his shoulder and making his way stealthily toward the door. She kicked and hit, but he was far larger than she was and her efforts were completely ineffective. Tears welled in her eyes, and she swallowed hard, feeling vomit rise. She was so afraid she couldn’t think and, hanging upside down from the man’s shoulder, she was in no position to do much anyway. Where was Ben?

  “Kate!” Ben had heard her cry, was desperately shoving his way through the low-hanging trees, trying to locate her in the darkness. Her attacker began to run, clumsily and noisily in his haste and she began to struggle again, desperate to slow him down. Ben heard him and changed his track, ignoring the path and leaping through a small grove of trees. He stepped through the fountain, soaking his shoes, his trousers, almost falling in the slippery wetness. But he raced on, his shortcut bringing him up right on their heels.

  Kate still couldn’t see, but felt the man turn his head to look behind them, knew that Ben was close and that the man was scared. The conservatory door was already open, and her attacker ran faster, hastening outside and jostling her, making her stomach heave. Ben ran faster still, out the door and nearly abreast with them in the cool, dark night—but then he fell back abruptly, calling out in surprise. Kate lifted her head to look just in time to see a second man leap out from behind the conservatory door, throwing himself at Ben and making him stumble and fall to the ground with a thud. She tried to scream, but her voice was muted by the gag. The second man landed on top of him, and in an instant they were rolling on the ground, punches flying.

  Kate’s captor stopped, swinging around to watch the two men fighting on the lawn. She could see very little, draped over the man’s back as she was, but she craned her neck as much as possible, trying to get a clear look at the men, needing to know the faces of her enemies. She could see nothing of the man who held her, but she could tell that he was quite tall, and could feel that he was almost skeletally thin from the sharp shoulder that poked her in the ribs. But she did have a better view of the second man. He was quite heavyset, but muscular and stocky. She shivered, looking at his face, seeing his square jowls and heavy brows, a menacing sneer on his lips. Although Ben was taller and stronger, the other man had the element of surprise in his favor. Ben struggled to throw him off, nearly managed to once, but the heavy man had too great an advantage. Kate gasped as he rose above Ben, his hands at his throat, choking him. Then with sickening fear, she saw the cold glint of metal in the man’s hand. A knife.

  But he never even used it. The tall, thin man walked over, carrying Kate with him like a heavy sack.

  “We don’t want any blood, mate,” he said, shoving the large man off Ben with his booted foot.

  The large man rose, his breathing heavy and his eyes still bright with exertion. He paused, standing over Ben and looking down at him as if contemplating his next move.

  “This won’t make ’im bleed,” he said, and kicked Ben, swiftly, ruthlessly, in the ribs. He jerked to the side at the impact, then didn’t move. Kate felt fear like she’d never felt before. The kick had been so loud she’d heard it, had heard the solid thud of boot meeting flesh. What if…oh, God.

  She began fighting with all of her might, kicking her captor, thrashing her body in his arms. She tried screaming, but the rag muffled her yells and she only managed a muted, hoarse wail. Her captor threw her on the ground, stunning her with the impact.

  He bent down and slapped her across the face. “Ye’d better watch it, gel. I’ll only ’urt ye if I ’ave to.” He glared at her for a moment, then he hefted her over his shoulder once more.

  “Get the gent as well,” he said, turning to his partner. “We’d better take ’im with us.”

  “D’ye think ’e saw me face?” the heavyset man asked, brushing the dirt from his coat.

  “Dunno. Can’t take any chances, though. We’ll let Billy figure out what to do wit” im. Pick ’im up, will ye?”

  “Why the bloody ’ell do I get to lug this one, when you get that pretty piece o’ baggage? That don’t seem fair.”

  The thin man smiled. “Ain’t fair, George. But I got ’er first.”

  George grunted, lifting Ben over his shoulder. The men started walking, each with a limp body swaying from over his shoulder.

  Kate wouldn’t try to escape again—not yet anyway. Even if she was successful, she couldn’t leave Ben behind. Unconscious, he was unable to defend himself. Instead, she started recording facts in her mind. George. Billy. George was the heavy one. She didn’t know where Billy was. And then there was the tall one, the one who held her. That made three.

  They moved through the shadows next to the conservatory, slowly, stealthily. Once past the conservatory, however, the cover of the shadows disappeared. They picked up the pace, running across the open lawn toward the shelter of the woods.

  Kate, facing backwards, watched the house recede into the distance. It was early morning and a few dim lights shone from the windows. The servants had roused and were beginning to start the day. Soon all the guests would awake, and over breakfast they might start to wonder where she was, where Ben was, too.

  The rain had stopped.

  Chapter Eleven

  Several small dirt roads ran through the woods, mainly to connect Peshley to town and to their nearby hunting lodge. After about ten minutes of walking down one of these roads, the two men reached their destination. A coach awaited their arrival, a very small man perched in the driver’s seat.

  “Took ye bloody long enough,” he said impatiently. “And what the ’ell do ye ’ave there, George? No one said nothin’ bout any bloke.”

  “Ask John. ’E’ll tell ya.”

  John. The man who held her must be John, Kate thought as she peered covertly at the little man. And he must be Billy. He was barely any larger than she was—was, in fact, probably an inch or two shorter. Billy jumped down from his seat nervously, moving quickly like a sparrow.

  John opened the carriage door and threw Kate unceremoniously inside. “Easy, there, Billy. We didn’t ’ave no choice but bring ’im. ’E was pokin’ round, lookin’ for trouble, and ’e saw us do it. ’E’ll tell, and before we know it, we’ll all ’ang.”

  George followed suit, dumping Ben inside the coach and landing him on the seat next to Kate. “Should we tie ’em up, Billy? The bloke took a pretty good blow, but ’e might come to sooner or later.”

  “Don’ bother—it’s day, now, and we ain’t got time. The coach’ll be locked. ’E can’t go nowhere.”

  George nodded and slammed the carriage door, locking it from the outside. Kate heard the three men climb into their seats above, heard the click of a tongue and the snap of a whip. With a jolt, the horses were in motion.

  She opened an eye, wondering if Ben was still unconscious, but he didn’t move. She leaned forward in her seat, examining his face for any sign of serious injury, at the moment unmindful of her own bruises, of her own gagged mouth. She feared that the real reason he hadn’t been tied up was that the men knew he’d been too injured to cause any harm. She leaned her face very close to his, hoping to feel his breath.

  She got much more than she bargained for. Suddenly, Ben opened his eyes and swiftly reached over, untying the knot behind her head and yanking the gag from her mouth. In the brief instant before she could speak, he grabbed her and replaced the gag with his hand, covering her mouth lest she call out. Kate could see that he was most alert.

  And then she got angry. This was the second bloody t
ime that he had muffled her in such a fashion that evening, on top of everything else. She’d had enough, and she kicked him in the shin.

  He removed his hand to rub his leg, glaring at her.

  “I’m not stupid, you know. I know when I need to be quiet. I don’t need you to make me shut up—”

  “Kate?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do be quiet.”

  She sat back in her seat, deflated but not defeated. She also wasn’t done.

  “Ben?”

  “What?” he all but snapped.

  She ignored his tone and continued. “Do you have any ideas? Because if you do, now would be the time to share them….” Her voice trailed off as she realized that he wasn’t listening and was, in fact, quite angry.

  Several minutes passed before he spoke. “I reckon you have more ideas than I do, Kate.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’ll explain later. Right now we need a plan.”

  “I might have one.”

  He raised a supercilious brow.

  “Well, part of a plan, anyway,” she explained. “Perhaps you can add to it. You see, there are only three of them—”

  “Noted.”

  Kate bit her tongue at that arrogant tone and continued. “—and that’s just one more than you and me—”

  “Do you propose to challenge them yourself, Kate?”

  She closed her eyes and counted to ten this time. “No, I don’t. But we do have several advantages.”

  “Such as?”

  “In the first place, we’re smarter than they are—I mean, can you believe that they would leave us alone in here together? In the second place, you’re stronger than any one of them…why, I believe you could polish off two of them with no trouble.”