Dare to Risk it All (Daring Daughters Book 7) Page 4

  “Come on,” he said irritably. “Before anyone misses us and calls for a search party.”

  “Mama knows I’m here,” she said, sounding a little annoyed herself.

  “With me?” he demanded, outraged.

  “Yes.”

  Raphe remembered Mrs Cadogan’s keen gaze on him last night and wondered at that. Was she mad, dangling her daughter in front of him like a piece of meat before a starving wolf? Surely, the entire world knew he didn’t have a feather to fly with. If she was looking for an eligible husband for her little darling, she was barking up entirely the wrong tree.

  “Your mama should know better,” he grumbled. To his annoyance, she greeted this comment with a peal of laughter.

  “Mama should know better?” she repeated and went off into whoops. “Oh, that’s funny.”

  Raphe snorted, remembering what he’d heard about the Cadogan family. “Well, a fair point. Your sister, though—”

  “Mama told her to leave me be.”

  “Why?” Raphe demanded in outrage. “Does she want you to be ruined?”

  Miss Cadogan shook her head. “Oh, no. Of course not. Mama said that we’re all friends here and there was no danger to me, and that you were far better behaved than people gave you credit for.”

  Raphe made a choked sound, unable to believe his ears. “She said what?”

  He stared at Miss Cadogan, assuming he’d heard wrong.

  “Mama says that you’re a good man who has endured many difficulties and that, as you’re trying to reform, we should give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  She gave him a warm smile, full of understanding. Yet she could not possibly understand what those words meant to him. Raphe frowned and walked on, trying to marshal his thoughts with little success.

  They reached the handcart that Dare had left and thankfully the disconcerting young woman did not attempt to make conversation with him, for he was too… too something to converse. Him—a good man? The words rebounded back and forth in his mind as he tried to make them fit. He wanted to make them fit, but it couldn’t be right. He’d made a mess of everything, just as his father had done. Two peas in a pod. That’s what Blanche had said to him the last time he’d seen her. She’d been in a temper—worse than usual—as she was being dunned by her modiste and Raphe had no extra funds to help her this time.

  Your father was hopeless and useless and you’re even worse that he was, for you’re wicked with it. He broke every promise he ever made and ruined everything he touched. He certainly ruined me. Do the world a favour, Raphe. Never marry. You’ll end up with a wife who despises you and children who will inflict more misery and destruction on those who care for them. Bad blood, that’s what it is, and yours is the worst of all.

  Try as he might to pretend her words away, to ignore them and put them down to the unhappy ranting of a dissatisfied woman, there had been too much that rang true. It had tipped him over into the abyss and he’d barely climbed out again before he’d hit the bottom. And then there had been Rothborn’s furious words when Raphe had made a comment about Miss Cadogan.

  If you so much as look in that girl’s direction, I’ll give you a thrashing you won’t forget in a hurry.

  Admittedly, Raphe had not spoken politely, suggesting he marry Miss Cadogan for her money, but all the same, Rothborn’s anger had surprised him. It had hurt too, to realise he’d sunk so low that the one man in the world who gave a damn for him saw him in such a light. Well, what did he expect? He’d whored and drunk and gambled himself through the past years. Hardly model behaviour for a prospective bridegroom, was it?

  Wait.

  Bridegroom?

  Who the hell was talking about getting married? Certainly not him!

  “Are you quite well, my lord?”

  Raphe blinked, realising he had been staring at the handcart for some time without saying a word.

  “Er… yes. Yes, sorry. I was thinking.”

  “Not happy thoughts by the looks of it,” Miss Cadogan offered, her tone careful.

  Raphe let out a huff of laughter. “Nothing to concern yourself about. Come along, we had best get back.”

  They walked in silence for a while, with Raphe pulling the handcart behind him. Thankfully, the frozen ground allowed it to roll easily enough, bumping over ruts in the narrow path that led back to Rowsley. They were making their way through a small copse of trees with the birds singing about them—and Raphe was just considering how pleasant walking through the wintery countryside with the lovely Miss Cadogan was—when she had to go and spoil it.

  “Are you going to the ball?”

  “Lady Bainbridge’s?”

  She nodded, watching him.

  “Yes, of course. Bainbridge is an old friend. He’ll have my hide if I don’t turn up.”

  “Will you dance with me?”

  Raphe stared at her, wondering why the devil he was shocked. She was outrageous, that much was clear. He had known, of course. The Cadogan family, or at least Jerome Cadogan’s branch of it, was wild. Everyone knew that. The girls were hoydens… well, all but Elspeth, but even she’d got herself embroiled in a scandal with Dare which had forced their marriage. Yet, he was startled all the same to find the wretched girl asking him to dance.

  “Young ladies must wait to be asked,” he said, hating the pompous sound of his own voice. Like he gave a good goddamn for propriety.

  “Oh, pooh.” Miss Cadogan waved this away with an impatient hand. “What nonsense. I want to dance with you, and if you’re going to be all silly about even talking to me, no doubt you’ll believe you need to be noble and not dance with me, either.”

  “Well, it won’t do your reputation any good, will it?” he said irritably, setting the cart down for a rest.

  She gave a laugh at that, and Raphe could not help but turn to look at her. God but she was lovely, so bright and lively and… sweet. Longing swept over him. It was as though he’d spent his life eating sweetmeats until he was sick, and she was a tart, green apple. His mouth watered.

  “I don’t think a dance or two will make a sea change in people’s opinions, my lord. They already think me a hoyden. Besides which, who cares? There are limits to how far I can push my luck, but I will push it as far as I can. Life is too short to live in fear of censure, to let other people’s opinions stop you from being happy.”

  Raphe stared at her, his admiration for her growing despite his best efforts to hold her at arm’s length. How the devil was he to get through the next weeks in her company when she had already got beneath his skin? Words burned on his tongue, and he knew he ought not speak them aloud, but the devil was rattling his cage.

  “Dancing with me would make you happy?” he asked, aware that the timbre of his voice had dropped to something low and intimate.

  She was standing too close to him, the scent of her reaching for him and pulling him in as surely as if she’d taken hold of his cravat and tugged. It was fresh and inviting, pure, and the wickedest temptation ever offered him in his entire life.

  “Yes,” she said, staring up at him with a look in her eyes that he recognised all too well, and that one word had held a breathless quality that seemed to Raphe to give him permission.

  Somewhere, in the very far distance, an alarm bell was ringing. It was faint, though, so faint he could not hear it over the rushing of blood in his veins, over the inner demon who was urging him on and chanting, mine, mine. Mine.

  “What else would make you happy, Miss Cadogan?” he asked, moving closer to her. “For you’ve made no secret of your interest in me since the minute you arrived. I’d go as far to say that you are pursuing me. You sought me out, alone, when you knew you ought not. Is there something in particular you want?”

  Her breath hitched, and Raphe’s pulse accelerated.

  “I…” she began, the crests of her cheeks pink now, but she did not turn away from him, nor take a step back. “Want?”

  “Mm-hm.” Raphe reached out a hand and traced a lazy finger dow
n the line of her jaw. Miss Cadogan gasped but still did not move away. “What do you want, my sweet little innocent? Do you want a taste of danger, is that it? Do you have a secret desire for something you ought not have?”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed, her gaze never leaving his, as if he’d hypnotised her. A snake charmer, that was what he was, he thought in disgust, and yet he could not make himself move away either. He was caught too, just as much as she was, captured by her green gaze, by the lure of something he ought not to want and had no right to but was wicked enough to take anyway. She was the kind of girl you married, not the kind to dally with.

  Walk away, he told himself, but his heart was thundering now despite his outward calm.

  Walk away, but he wanted, wanted like he had wanted nothing in his life before.

  Walk away, you wretched excuse for a man.

  “Raphe,” she said, her voice as much of a whisper as the breeze rustling the leaves at their feet.

  Too late now.

  Chapter 4

  Miss Knight,

  I am being bullied on all sides by merciless females. Very well. I surrender, if only to get a moment's peace!

  ―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight).

  2nd December 1840, Rowsley Hall, Derbyshire.

  Raphe put one hand to Miss Cadogan’s waist, the other to her face, caressing her soft cheek with his thumb and tilting her head to just the right angle.

  “You should run,” he murmured, for it was only sporting to give her a last chance.

  “I never run,” she replied, though her voice trembled, but then her eyelids fluttered shut and the invitation seemed to be the thing he had been waiting for his entire life. He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers. It was nothing, barely a kiss at all, not for a man who had given and received kisses in such quantity. That was the problem, though. It had been quantity over quality, for there had never been a kiss like this before.

  The moment his lips touched hers, sensation ripped through him, scouring every previous kiss. It was like a tidal wave, sweeping away all that had gone before like so much debris, cleaning his soul of the errors of the past and leaving it scrubbed raw and unprotected. Before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled her closer into his arms and his mouth was seeking more. What little wit remained was just enough to remember she was innocent, that he could not plunder this gift, for it was of value. This woman, this moment, it was forever, not something to be stolen, then thrown away and forgotten. So, he teased and seduced with delicate brushes of his lips, sipping and nipping at her mouth and playing with the considerable skill he had attained, encouraging her tentative responses. Not that she was tentative for long.

  Her hands slid up over his chest, curling about his neck and holding on, a possessive grip upon him that made triumph sing through his veins like warm brandy. He tugged at the ribbons on her bonnet, casting it aside without caring where it fell. His hands caressed her back, the narrow span of her waist and the lush curve of her hip as she came alive in his arms. Needing more, he slid his tongue across her lips, seeking entry, and experienced another surge of victorious happiness as she opened to him. The pleasure of it was indescribable, his wicked nature stealing her innocence by slow degrees and revelling in her submission. He taught her the way of it, the slick, sinuous dance of tongues and—though she clearly did not know what to do—she was a quick study, catching on at once. The kiss grew hotter, deeper, and his mind cast about for a place they could go, somewhere secluded.

  His mouth left hers to taste the sweet spot beneath her ear that he had wanted to explore earlier. He breathed her in, just as he had imagined, and grew giddy with the scent of her as his hand slid up her waist, up her ribcage to her breast. He cupped and squeezed, the voluptuous handful sending a bolt of pure lust to his groin. He moaned and nipped at her neck.

  “R-Raphe,” Miss Cadogan said, sounding dazed.

  “God, you’re delicious. You smell divine, like honey and vanilla, so tempting, so sweet. I could eat you.”

  “R-Raphe—I….”

  He captured her mouth again, and she sighed, melting into him for a moment before pulling away.

  “Raphe,” she managed as he sought her mouth again. She turned away this time, pushing at his chest. “My God! You are dangerous!” she exclaimed.

  Raphe froze.

  “Good heavens,” she said, breathing hard as she looked up at him. “That… That was quite astonishing. Truly, I’ve never, I never dreamed… Oh my.” She collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder, clinging to him as if her knees were not sufficient to hold her upright. Perhaps they weren’t. Now he came to think of it, his own were feeling uncertain, too. Belatedly, Raphe snatched his hand from her breast as though it had burned him.

  What had he done? Oh, holy mother of God. What had he done?

  Raphe uttered a curse and tried to step back, to put distance between them, but she was still holding on tight. With difficulty, he attempted to steady his breathing, to calm his thundering heart, but his body was alive, thrumming with lust. Only his revulsion at how badly he had behaved held him in check for he wanted her still, beyond reason, despite knowing what he’d done was reprehensible.

  “Miss Cadogan,” he said, sounding oddly hollow, or like the words came from a long way away. Not at all like his own voice. “I can only apologise. I am so dreadfully….”

  She looked up at him, her pretty nose scrunching up in an adorable fashion that made him want to kiss it. He squashed the urge beneath the considerable weight of self-loathing pressing down upon him.

  “Apologise?” she echoed. “What on earth for?”

  “What for?” he repeated faintly. “What for?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  He stared at her. “Miss Cadogan. We met only last night, and I wonder it can have escaped your notice, but I nearly took your maidenhead upon a public path.”

  She tutted at him. “Sometimes a night is all it takes. Dare fell in love with my sister in a matter of minutes. Not that I’m suggesting you love me,” she added hurriedly. “But you’re being silly. I asked you to stop, and you stopped. It’s not like you took advantage, and it isn’t the least bit public. We’re on the Rowsley Estate.”

  “I am not being silly,” he said, irritated that she should let him off the hook so easily. He was many things, but never silly. “I took advantage of your innocence, or did you miss the part where I had my hand on your breast? For I certainly did not.”

  “Of course I didn’t miss it,” she said, laughing. “It was one of the best bits, but I think you are becoming a trifle overwrought.”

  It was one of her best bits, murmured his inner voice with satisfaction, recalling the lavish handful with far too much clarity. Raphe shook it off and tried to get back to the point. What was the point again? Oh, yes. “I ought never to have kissed you at all!” he said, remembering too late Lord Rothborn’s stern command to keep his hands, and every other part of him, off Miss Cadogan. And he’d been in her company for less than twenty-four hours. Well, this was going marvellously well.

  “Christ, I ought to be locked up,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m not fit to be in the company of ladies.”

  “Don’t be….” Miss Cadogan hesitated at the warning look he shot her. “Dramatic. Of course you are, you’re just a bit out of practise, and who can wonder when you spend all your time with light skirts and opera dancers.”

  Raphe groaned. “Damnation, you ought not know the least thing about light skirts and opera dancers.”

  “Whyever not? I’m unwed, not deaf, dumb, and blind. Though I ought to remind you not to swear in front of me. Not that I give a hoot, but some old tabby might overhear one day and reprimand you for it,” she pointed out reasonably, but Raphe had gone far beyond being reasonable.

  He wanted to hit something or, better yet, have someone hit him. He deserve
d it. Perhaps he should confess to Rothborn and take his punishment. The notion did not appeal.

  “Are you going to have a hysterical fit?” she asked, her green eyes alight as she studied him with concern.

  “I don’t know,” Raphe muttered. His chest was tight, and he felt nauseous. What was wrong with him? All he’d had to do was not kiss Miss Cadogan, and he’d failed miserably. He rubbed at his chest with the heel of his hand. “Possibly a nervous collapse.”

  He jolted as he felt Miss Cadogan’s touch upon him, a tender caress against his cheek.

  “Don’t!” he yelped, terrified that he might lose control of himself and really go beyond the pale.

  “Goodness me, but you’re awfully high strung,” she said, a wondering expression upon her lovely features. “I think you ought to come and sit down.”

  “I don’t want to—” Raphe protested, but she tugged at his hand, pulling him inexorably towards a large tree stump at the side of the path. He gave up and allowed her to manage him. Heaven knew someone needed to, for he didn’t seem able to manage himself.

  He sat down with a thud and Miss Cadogan stared down at him, considering.

  “Perhaps you should put your head between your knees?” she offered.

  “I am not going to swoon,” he retorted, nettled.

  “Are you quite sure?” she asked.

  Raphe glared at her, and then let out a breath as he saw the mischief dancing in her eyes.

  “Wretched girl. I’m sorry I ever met you,” he groused.

  “A common refrain,” she agreed with a shrug.

  Despite himself, Raphe’s lips twitched.

  “Why aren’t you married?” he demanded, wondering what kind of milk-and-water sapskulls were populating the ton if they’d been so utterly idiotic as to overlook this glorious creature.

  She gave a very unladylike snort. “Because I’m dreadful,” she said, laughing at him. “As you have pointed out several times already.”