She could strangle Drake for hieing off to the wilds of Scotland—in the middle of winter no less. Even if he didn’t want to stay and work with Simon, he could have helped her in this new capacity.
Depressed to see her man of affairs—but more importantly her friend—leave, she’d nevertheless wished him luck with entreaties to write if he needed anything at all. She’d even given him a long, tight hug on their front stoop and shed a few tears. Handling her with his typical Scot stoicism, he’d patted her on the shoulder, looking slightly green, and murmured a litany of there, theres.
Positioning herself for the quadrille with Stonewell, she looked to Simon. Had he heard the rumors about Rafe? In discussion with a middle-aged man with white whiskers, he glanced toward the entryway.
Halfway through the dance, a wave of silence crashed over the room, stopping dancers mid-step. Whispers swirled in the aftermath like a swarm of bees. Like everyone else, Minerva craned her neck, seeking the cause.
Standing at the top of a handful of steps was the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. Dressed in black evening clothes, he scanned the room, his gaze bouncing everywhere until it caught and held her immobile in its intensity. Not that she would have been able to flee on her suddenly leaden feet. Lord Stonewell, sensing her distress, offered her an arm, which she grabbed.
“Lord Rafael Drummond,” intoned the butler.
By this time, the musicians had sensed something momentous occurring and stopped playing, a witness to the drama. Rafe walked toward her, his steps unnaturally loud in the silence. The crowd parted like the red sea. Her greedy gaze raked him from head to foot. His hair was short and his beard shorn. He was beautiful.
He stopped directly in front of her, his gaze just as covetous. Then, he lifted her limp, gloved hand to press a lingering kiss on the back. Her other hand was still on Lord Stonewell’s sleeve, and the man cleared his throat.
“Stonewell,” Rafe said with flinty eyes.
“Drummond. I’m surprised to see you here.” Lord Stonewell’s eyes had narrowed and he’d assumed a protective stance.
The musicians, suddenly remembering what they were being paid to do, struck up a waltz. Minerva glanced over to see Simon glaring at Rafe and mouthing dance. And perhaps the word idiot, but surely she was mistaken.
Rafe cleared his throat. “Lady Minerva, may I have the honor?”
Minerva, mesmerized by his turbulent blue-gray eyes, hesitated and stumbled over her words, “Uh…oh my, dance? I…of course, Rafe, I mean, Lord Drummond.”
Stonewell looked back and forth at the two of them and handed her off reluctantly. The dance floor was deserted, waiting in anticipation much like the crowd of on-lookers. With a deep breath, Rafe whirled her onto the floor.
“It’s been too long since I waltzed,” he said quietly, breaking their uncomfortable silence.
“You haven’t lost the skill, but I already knew you to be an excellent dancer.” She kept her focus somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder. If she looked directly at his face, she wouldn’t be able to stop her hands from exploring his smooth jaw and silky hair.
“You’ve lost weight, sweetheart,” he whispered.
She darted her gaze to his. A wealth of tenderness and regret shined from him.
“You’re still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. If I didn’t think you’d have my hide, I’d throw you over my shoulder and haul you home.”
Home. His words chipped at her core of pain, but he wasn’t to be forgiven so easily. “You broke my heart, you arse.” Tears stung, but she managed to keep them from spilling over. A handful of other couples joined them on the floor, one being Simon, who was trying not to stare at them but failing miserably.
“I know. I broke my own heart. If I could take back everything I said to you that day, I would. I was afraid I would hurt you even worse if you stayed. I was a fool and, as your brother correctly pointed out, an idiot and a coward to boot.” His voice was low and gravelly with emotion.
“So Simon is behind your sudden appearance? That’s why he was so insistent I attend tonight.” Pride stiffened her back.
“Your brother came and talked some sense to me. I spent the first month after you left drunk at the cabin. Even after I dried myself out, grief dogged me. I had no desire to see to the estate or to see anyone, for that matter. I’d guess you coped a sight better than I did.” Pulling her closer, he rested his smooth jaw alongside her temple.
She pushed him back. Her defenses were crumbling too readily. “You look so different.”
“Now that you see the entirety of it, does it disgust you?” He ducked his head as if trying to hide his scar in his shoulder.
“Rafe, no, of course it doesn’t.” Her hand caught his cheek, and she titled his face back to her. “I meant, you look beautiful.”
Beats of music passed before he rumbled, “That’s my line.”
Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop herself from touching him. “You have a dimple in your chin.” She slid a satin-covered finger down his jaw line to the crease. “I never knew.”
“I think there might be a spot on my inner thigh you’ve never seen either…would you like to familiarize yourself with that later?” he asked wickedly but with a hint of desperation.
“Will there be a later? How many times have you pushed me away?”
“God, woman, I would get down on my knees right here in this ballroom if you would consent to be my wife. And if you say no, don’t think I’ll crawl away in defeat. I’ll court and woo you until you surrender.”
“Is it to be a battle then, Rafe Drummond?”
“A war if necessary. I’ll never allow Stonewell or another of his ilk to have you. You’re too good for me, but you’re way too good for them. I’ll love you and honor you the rest of my days. I’ll forever be faithful to you. I can’t promise I’ll never be an arse. I still have demons. You understand them better than anyone. But for the first time, I feel like they won’t pull me down. I haven’t had a drop of liquor in a month, and I don’t even miss it. We can even live in London, if you desire.”
“That’s very—”
“Let me finish, before I lose my nerve. You can pursue any unladylike endeavor you desire…financial, charity, even acting a maid at Wintermarsh. Whatever makes you happy. I’ll never expect you to embroider or watercolor. I love you, woman. With everything I am and everything I aspire to be.” Rafe came to a stop in the middle of the floor and took both her hands in his, holding them against his heart.
“Oh, Rafe.” This time a tear managed to escape even as her lips curled into a smile. “Of course, I’ll be your wife. I love you so much, you silly man.” She threw her arms around his neck and he, most improperly and quite thoroughly, kissed her. Minerva couldn’t be sure whether it was the sudden rush of her blood or a simultaneous gasp from the ballroom filling her ears.
“I love you too. Will you forgive me for acting an ungentlemanly brute?” he asked once their lips parted.
Breathless and blissful, she would forgive him anything. “For kissing me? I kissed you right back.”
“No, for this.” Rafe picked her up, cradled her in his arms and strode out of the ballroom, the crowd parting for him once again. She couldn’t summon any remorse for their scandalous behavior. London could go to hell. They’d be back at Wintermarsh soon enough.
Over Rafe’s shoulder, Stonewell stood with his shoulders slumped and his face downcast, the picture of the vanquished. She caught sight of Simon. He waggled his fingers at her in farewell, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
Rafe climbed into the waiting carriage after her and pulled her onto his lap, forcing her to straddle him. Capturing her face in his hands, he studied her in the dim light. “You’re sure you want me? The things I’ve done…experienced…I’m no saint.”
She covered his hands with hers
and weaved their fingers. “Has it occurred to you that your past, as difficult and bleak as it was, shaped the man you are now? A strong man who can protect me, who won’t control me, who understands me. A man I love.” She brushed her lips across his and then skimmed them across his smooth cheek to lay a kiss on his scar.
Sitting up straight on his lap, she tugged her gloves off one by one and tossed them aside. He dropped his hands to her stocking-clad calves as she plunged one hand into his hair and explored his smooth jaw line with the other.
Would she ever get enough of his skin against hers? Leaning forward, she rubbed her cheek against his like a cat. His laughter vibrated his chest against her. “Rafe Drummond, you were handsome before, but now you’re downright stunning.”
“I’m glad you think so. I’ve discovered yours is the only opinion that matters.”
He slid his hands to her buttocks and pressed her close as their lips met. This time, passion ruled, and soon they were reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies.
The carriage rolled to a halt, jerking them out of their frenzy. “Let’s continue this somewhere a bit more comfortable, shall we?”
She managed a hum of agreement through kiss-swollen lips.
She followed him up the steps to the imposing, black door. Was it only months ago she’d left feeling she’d made a bargain with the devil? He pushed the door open and turned to her with a smile full of love. Her heart galloped away. The devil hadn’t had a hand in this. A more celestial being had brought them together. And she would thank them the rest of her days for forcing that outrageous bargain.
She walked into his arms for another kiss. Her cloak fell to the floor, as did his greatcoat. She turned her head to the side, and he applied himself to kissing down her neck. “Rafe…Rafe, the servants?”
“Told them to bugger off for the night.” He slid the sleeve of her gown to the very edge of her shoulder and down, laying kisses along its retreat.
She took his face in her hands and forced him to meet her gaze. “I’ll not forgive you if Mrs. Devlin catches us in flagrante delicto.”
His lips twitched. “Your brother offered to put them up for the evening. We are entirely alone.”
“Still, should we make our way to your bedroom? I’m not sure finding our clothes strewn about the entry hall in the morning is a proper introduction.”
“Perhaps, but I’ve entertained many a fantasy about taking you against a door. Ever since we were so rudely interrupted by my sister.”
She shivered. “You have a door in your suite…and a bed.”
“By God, I do.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs. Laughing and breathless, she ran to keep up.
He wrestled her gown off, destroying a few hooks in his haste. Light stays thrust her breasts up. As promised, he pushed her against the door with his pelvis, kicking her beautiful, mistreated gown out of the way. Plucking her breasts from her stays, he cupped them and ran his thumbs across the nipples simultaneously. She squirmed as liquid heat coated her.
She pushed his jacket off and applied herself to the buttons of his waistcoat. There were too many clothes between them. With his waistcoat gone, she tore at his shirt. He yanked it over his head, fabric rending.
He rid her of her stays, pulled her chemise down to her waist and rubbed his hair-covered chest against hers. The sweet friction against her nipples shot to her core, the rhythmic throbbing intensifying between her legs.
It had been too long. An eternity. She plucked at the discs on his breeches ineffectually, and Rafe pushed her hands aside to complete the task. His erection sprang forth, and he pulled her chemise up to her waist.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I need inside of you desperately.” He sounded like a wild creature. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”
“What do I do?” Her voice carried the same primal ferocity.
“Wrap your leg around me, I’ll lift you up.” She slid her leg up his thigh, and he grazed his hand up the silky skin until he cupped her buttock. He slipped a finger through her wet folds and groaned.
With both hands cupping her buttocks, he lifted her effortlessly, his strength driving her desire higher. Her legs rested on his hips, and he lowered her onto his cock. The exquisite feeling of being filled by him felt like a claiming. A promise.
“I love you.” The words came on a gasp of air.
“I love you too.” His words wavered with the same intensity of emotion battering her.
Holding her stationary, he took short, stabbing thrusts as if he were loath to leave her in any way. A fine sweat broke on his back and brow. He lowered his mouth to hers, his tongue playing in the same rhythm as his cock.
Tingling shot from where they were joined to her fingers and toes and everywhere in between. Her climax twisted through her body, and she was only vaguely aware when he joined her. He slid them to the floor to lie side by side, her body a mass of trembling muscles.
On his elbow beside her, he brushed her hair away from her face. Her hand was too weak, and her body too sated for even that. Rafe went to work removing her chemise and stockings. Once she was fully naked, Rafe raked his gaze up and down her body and, even with all that had passed between them, a blush spread.
Her fair skin betrayed her, and Rafe laughed. “I love that you can blush with me, sweetheart, even after you played the wanton not five minutes ago.”
“Am I really wanton?”
“Yes, and I love it. It might take years before we get through playing out all my fantasies.” Rafe kissed her nipple and ran his tongue over it like a big jungle cat.
Tension coiled in the wings, awaiting its cue. “What about my fantasies? When will it be my turn?” Was she bold enough to take his hand and put it between her legs?
Rafe’s head popped up, his eyes hooded. “You have fantasies about me? I’m intrigued. Perhaps it’s your turn now. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to stop talking.” She forced his mouth back to her breasts and guided his hand between her legs. He huffed a laugh, but she didn’t care. Slick with her own arousal and his seed, he toyed with her. Her hips thrust, wanting more of everything.
“Why in such a hurry, love?”
“It’s been so long, and I’ve missed you so.” Notes of urgency, longing and distress colored her words.
His teasing amusement was gone, his voice full of torment. “I dreamed of you every night in despair I would never touch you like this again.” He thrust a finger inside her while his thumb rubbed her bud, giving her what she needed. She keened her climax.
When the storm had passed, Rafe picked her up and laid her on the bed, face down with her legs dangling over the side. She was too satisfied to question her position. His erection prodded her buttocks. He ran his hands over her back and entered her agonizingly slowly. Up on her toes, she wiggled back against him.
He curled over her, his hot breath in her ear matching his words. Erotic promises propelled her forward. His thrusts were measured. Held down in a position of submission, she couldn’t even touch him, and she gloried in his domination. He snaked a hand under her, his finger brushing her apex. Her sudden climax took them both by surprise, and he spiraled over the same dizzy edge.
Pushing her onto the bed, he covered them with a sheet. She entwined her limbs with his like a vine seeking purchase and fell into a dreamless sleep.
* * * * *
A hand stroking along his jaw and through his hair woke him. Minerva was propped on her elbow studying him, her expression serious. Dawn’s light was suffusing the room.
“Do you approve of what you see?” His underlying uncertainty was poorly hidden behind his teasing words.
Her smile banished the darkness like the sun at its zenith. “I’ve always approved of what I saw. Even when I thought I hated you, you were my ideal of the perfect male specimen. It made everythin
g so confusing.”
Clearing his throat, he ran strands of her hair through his fingers. “Do you know what I have in my jacket?”
“A red squirrel?”
Rafe chuckled and shook his head.
“Some of Mrs. Pott’s tarts? That would be delightful. I’m finding my appetite much improved.”
“You are making no effort at seriousness. A special marriage license.”
Minerva looked truly stunned. “For us?”
“No, for the two red squirrels I have ferreted away in my jacket. Of course for us, silly woman.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow. No, actually, today.” Rafe laughed but then his smile dropped. “If you want. If you’d rather wait, we can wait as long as you wish. I thought perhaps sooner rather than later would be wise considering…” Rafe waved a hand to the door, pointed at the floor and patted the bed. “Love, I have to ask, because Simon somewhat insinuated, but looking at you, I don’t see…”
She looked bemused by his stuttering and tilted her head.
“Are you increasing?” Rafe blurted out.
“Am I? Oh, my. You mean carrying your child?” Now, it was Minerva’s turn to stutter. “Well, no… I mean, after I left, I…I knew it was possible, but then, my courses came…and so I wasn’t.” She shrugged, her eyes glistening.
“Sweetheart, did you want my child?” His heart was near to bursting, and he gathered her close. “I’ll admit when Simon indicated you might be with child, I felt some primal sense of gratification. But when he told me you were going to accept Lord Stonewell’s proposal even though you carried my child, I was ready to rip Stonewell limb from limb.”
“Rafe, that’s so sweet,” she said in a tear-blurred voice.
The incongruency made him belly laugh, which in turn dried her tears.
“I did want your child, but I would never have married Stonewell. If I had been increasing, I would have retreated to Northumberland to have the babe and raise him or her there, away from the gossips. I wanted any part of you to keep. Why in the world did Simon make you think that I would have passed your child as another man’s?”
A Brazen Bargain: Spies and Lovers, Book 2 Page 29