Too Hot For A Rake Page 6

  Helena burst into tears. “You don’t understand. No one does. My life is over! I’ll never love another man. It’s just too hard to face such devastating rejection.” Her words were said between hiccupping sobs.

  Desmond rose and knelt beside her. “There, there. Don’t despair. You’re wrong, you know. All is not lost. Broken hearts have been known to mend. Yours will, too, I promise you. You’re far too lovely to be left to grieve for very long.” He helped her to her feet and held her, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. How well he knew the sting of rejection, he thought bitterly.

  After her tears subsided, she disengaged, picked up a napkin, and dabbed at his waistcoat. “Sorry.” Helena giggled. “I’ve cried all over your coat.”

  “That’s better. You have a lovely giggle. Do it more often for me, won’t you?”

  Helena kept dabbing ineffectually at his coat. As if she hadn’t heard him, she said, “You see, I’ve had no one to talk to about that horrid night. I couldn’t tell my family the real reason for crying off, could I?”

  “No, I suppose not.” He caught her hand and took the cloth away. “If it will ease your heart, you may talk to me about what is troubling you anytime you please. I’ve suffered the pain of rejection myself, though that was a long time ago. But I haven’t forgotten the pain. It hurt like the devil and left a wound that took a long time to heal.” He led her to the small settee opposite the dining table and sat down next to her.

  “I feel such a fool! I’ve loved Darlington since I was twelve years old, you see. I’ve never wanted anything more out of life than to be his wife and bear his children. Why did I never realize he was the wrong man for me? He doesn’t even think me desirable. I disgust him, he said. I’m such a failure.”

  “No, you’re not. What you did that night wasn’t so horrible. Most men would have been flattered by your attentions. I would have been flattered if you had meant them for me.” He lifted her chin. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re very desirable.”

  “Am I? Then prove you mean it, my lord. Kiss me.” She leaned toward him, closed her eyes and parted her lips.

  But he stopped her. “Open your eyes, my dear. I gave my word to your brother-in-law that I would never take advantage of your innocence. That takes precedence, you see. Especially now.”

  Helena’s eyes flew open at the sudden vision of the marquis without his clothing. “Why especially now?”

  “I’ve become Marquis of Waverley. I have a duty to repair my reputation.”

  She turned her face away to hide her flaming cheeks. He was right, of course, yet she couldn’t help feeling rejected once more. What was wrong with her? Had she no appeal at all?

  “You’re blushing again, ma’am. Why?”

  “I feel like an ugly old crone. Undesirable and unwanted.”

  Waverley laughed. “I suppose I shall be forced to kiss you just to prove you wrong, but I shan’t do so without your permission.” He touched her cheek, turned her face toward him, then raised her chin until they were eye to eye. He leaned closer until his mouth was inches from hers.

  Helena ran her tongue over her dry lips and closed her eyes in anticipation. Nothing happened again. “Get on with it, if you don’t mind,” she said, trying to ignore the mixture of fear and desire that his closeness had unleashed.

  “I cannot bring myself to break my promise. How odd, considering my past. I don’t even want to do so.”

  “What harm is there in one kiss?”

  “Just one, then. An antidote to relieve your mind of any doubt as to your appeal to men.”

  He took her in his arms in spite of his reluctance. She breathed him in, the linen of his cravat tickling her nose, the wine on his breath drowning her senses. He smelled like man. No perfume or pomade, just man.

  Waverley began his redemptive kiss by brushing his lips across hers.

  Heat rippled through her body. She felt his tongue tease her lips apart, inducing shock waves down to her toes.

  “One kiss delivered as promised,” he said, drawing away, but she pulled him closer, clutching the lapels of his coat as if she was afraid he would vanish.

  He nuzzled her neck. “You may not want me to stop, but I must. Besides, there are consequences, you know.”

  “I don’t want you to stop, consequences be damned.” She lay back on the settee.

  His body pressed down against hers. She could feel his hardness through the fabric of her skirts, branding her stomach. A sound escaped from deep inside her, like the cooing of a dove. She shuddered when his fingers began to trace the neckline of her gown, each touch igniting her, turning her limbs to jelly. He tugged at the sleeves of her gown until they slid off her shoulders. She felt a welcome whisper of air wafting across her breasts. His hand curved around one breast and her nipple puckered. His thighs pressed against hers. She wondered at the curling of her toes. How odd. How wicked. She loved it. Somewhere in the haze of her thoughts, she yearned to know what came next. She squirmed beneath him, wanting more, wanting…what? She had no idea.

  He groaned and released her mouth, then lowered his own until his lips found a breast. He took the nipple between his teeth. His hand sought the treasure between her thighs.

  They paid no heed to the squeak of the door. Nor did the gasp of outrage from Amy’s lips reach their ears.

  When the heavy pitcher filled with water came crashing down on Lord Waverley’s head, it produced a loud thunk.

  That claimed their full attention.

  Chapter 5

  Friday, the Tenth of April, 1818

  “Good morning, ma’am,” Waverley said cheerfully as he took a seat opposite Helena. He behaved as though nothing had happened the evening before in spite of the visible bump on his forehead.

  Astonished, Helena took in the slight, dark-skinned man wearing a turban, a bright yellow coat that fell to his knees, pants, and shoes with curled-up toes. He followed his lordship into the dining parlor.

  Amused at her reaction, Waverley introduced his valet. “This is Rabu, ma’am. In the firm belief that I am unable to care for myself, Rabu insisted upon accompanying me home from India to accomplish that task. Isn’t that right, Rabu?”

  Rabu giggled, his grin reaching from ear to ear. “Yes, mastah.”

  “How do you do, Rabu,” said Helena, much amused.

  The little man made a sweeping bow. “Allo, meestress.” He giggled again.

  Waverley’s lips quirked. “Pay him no mind, ma’am. Rabu giggles all the time. Weddings, funerals, disasters. In spite of the giggle, he’s working hard at learning our tongue. I’ll have the eggs and some ham, Rabu.” At once, the valet bustled about serving his master.

  Helena took a sip of her tea. “He is quite an…original, my lord. How is your head this morning?”

  “My head is fine, thank you, except for this colorful bump developing on my skull. Speaking of which, how is your abigail? Dear little Amy is also an original. Was it you who taught her that delightful trick with the pitcher? Next time, advise her to empty it of water first before she puts it to such practical use.” He dug into his breakfast with his customary zeal.

  “I most certainly did not teach her such a shabby trick. Amy thought it up all by herself.”

  “Clever little puss,” he murmured between bites.

  Helena was fascinated by the extraordinary amount of food her escort was consuming. “You seem excessively hungry this morning. As if you haven’t eaten for a week.”

  “Oh no, ma’am. I eat like this all the time. Since I am an active man, I use food to fuel my body.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and waved to Rabu to remove his plate. “Coffee, Rabu.”

  “Yes, sah!” Rabu said with a hint of the military. And giggled.

  “We leave in one hour, to take advantage of the light, ma’am. I’ve asked the innkeeper to provide a basket for a midday meal. When we change horses at Taunton, a decent drink may be had, he informs me, but the food is not what he calls ‘good grub.’”

/>   She rose. “You’ll excuse me, then. I must supervise the packing if we are to be ready to leave so soon, sir.”

  His eyes twinkled as he saluted her with one finger. “Don’t be late, ma’am.”

  His last remark smacked of insolence, Helena thought, but she didn’t answer. She walked up the stairs and down the hall to her chamber, where she found Amy folding her clothes. “We leave in an hour, Amy. Be sure everything is packed and taken down to our carriage. Tell Casper that Lord Waverley’s valet will accompany us. He may sit up beside him.”

  “Yes, your la’ship.” Amy’s eyes were swollen from the tears she had shed over the tongue-lashing her ladyship had administered following last evening’s fiasco.

  Helena reddened in recollection of the humiliating scene. Amy had hit him with the pitcher all the while scolding him like a fishmonger for daring to “have his way” with her precious ladyship. To Helena’s dismay, Amy had yanked Helena’s bodice up while she continued to rant at the marquis. Waverley had merely held his head in his hands and groaned.

  When he was able to stagger to his feet, he’d barked, “Leave off, lass. No need for you to protect your mistress any longer. Thanks to the cold water and the pitcher, the mood has quite left me.” He’d stumbled out and slammed the door behind him.

  Helena reached for her hat, but Amy was quicker. “Allow me, milady.” She tucked her mistress’ hair under, leaving a few curls out to frame her face in a most becoming way, a task at which Amy was a master. “You look lovely,” Amy said, as she placed the pelisse on Helena’s shoulders. Without a word, Helena left the room and proceeded down the stairs, to be met by the innkeeper.

  “Allow me to settle the bill with you, sir.”

  “No need, milady. His grace directed that all charges be sent to him. Was everything satisfactory?”

  “Oh yes. Thank you for your hospitality.” While she spoke to the landlord, Amy passed them, carrying her ladyship’s portmanteau. Helena followed her out into the yard and entered her carriage, but before Casper could close the door, she held it open and said, “See to Lord Waverley’s baggage. His valet will sit up with you, Casper. Have you met him?”

  Casper grinned. “Bit of an oddball, ain’t he?”

  Helena nodded in agreement just as Waverley drew up on his horse. He tipped his hat to her and smiled.

  She smiled back at him, but there was no light in her eyes. Good heavens! How am I going to get through the rest of this journey without further mortification?

  “Your ladyship—?”

  “Say no more, Amy. Spare me, please. Your lectures make my head ache.”

  “I’m sorry for what I done, but Lord Waverley’s a rake, taking advantage of an innocent lady like yourself. Men like him—”

  “Enough, for heaven’s sake! Not another word out of you, do you hear?”

  She reached for her diary, picked up her quill and began to write whatever thoughts popped into her head.

  “Milady?” Amy twisted the handkerchief in her hands as she spoke.

  Helena glared at her. “Don’t interrupt again, do you hear?”

  A light rain began to fall but soon turned into a downpour. Casper pulled to the side of the road and stopped long enough for Lord Waverley to tie his horse to the rear of the carriage and enter.

  “Beg pardon,” he said. He removed his coat, already drenched, and dropped it to the floor. “That’s better. I trust my joining you isn’t too much of an imposition? We stop for the night in Exeter, still hours away. My horse doesn’t seem to mind the rain, but I most certainly do.” He tapped the roof with the blunt end of his whip, a signal to Casper to move on.

  “No imposition, I assure you. Make yourself comfortable, sir.” Helena removed her handkerchief from her reticule and handed it across to him. “Take this to wipe your face.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. My valet will restore it before I return it.” He wiped his face, ignoring Amy’s stern glare in his direction, and closed his eyes to bar further conversation.

  Helena returned her diary to her reticule, for the erratic motion of the carriage sloshing through rutted roads made writing impossible. While Waverley rested opposite her, she too rested.

  When Casper pulled up to a small hostelry in Taunton, the only sign above the door read “Inn.” The sun had reappeared but the ground remained sodden. Waverley stepped down first. When he offered his hand, Helena took it, expecting to have to wade through puddles to the door of the inn, but the marquis swept her into his arms and carried her inside.

  “Th…thank you, sir,” she managed. “How kind.”

  He set her down in the taproom and bowed. “Pleasure, ma’am.”

  While Rabu spread the picnic fare supplied by the innkeeper of Arnos Manor in Bristol on one of two tables, Amy fetched a draught for the marquis, and lemonade for her mistress. Casper joined Rabu and Amy at the other table in the corner of the room, though the room was so small every word Helena and Waverley said to one another could be heard.

  “Try to get some sleep when you return to the carriage, ma’am. Exeter is more than five hours away.”

  “You may ride with me and continue to rest if you wish, sir,” she said shyly.

  “Thank you, but my horse might object. He needs his exercise.”

  Helena’s infectious laughter caused Casper to grin, Rabu to giggle and Amy to frown.

  Once under way, Helena leaned back and closed her eyes, but try as she might, she could not sleep, for Lord Waverley troubled her thoughts. He was such a contradiction. Tender at times, brusque just as often. He was seductive at times, behaving with propriety just as often. Who was the real man inside these contradictions?

  By the time they reached the Turks Head Inn in Exeter, a fifteenth-century hostelry, Helena was too weary to eat dinner in the private dining room. She ordered a light supper sent to her chamber and fell asleep soon after. At dawn, the sound of voices coming from the courtyard woke her. Startled by the rude noise, she pushed the covers away, went to the window and peered over the sill. The light lit the face of the man on the ground. The marquis! With caution, she opened the window a crack and peered out in time to hear Waverley speak.

  “I need my horse, if you please,” he said to the landlord.

  “It’s too early, your lordship. The stable lads are asleep.”

  “I ride this early every morning for exercise, sir. I’ll make it worth their while. Yours as well.” The marquis reached into his trousers, pulled out some notes and pressed them into the landlord’s hand. “Ten minutes.”

  Curious, Helena drew her head in, snatched her robe and went to the door. She tiptoed to the banister just as Waverley entered and started up the stairs. Helena tried to hurry back to her chamber, but she tripped on the hem of her robe and sprawled facedown.

  “Ooof!” She raised her head only to greet a pair of large, shiny Hessian boots. “What are you doing up so early?” she asked the boots.

  “I might ask the same of you, ma’am. Are you spying on me?”

  Her eyes traveled slowly up past the boots to the tight buckskin trousers clinging to his thighs before she was rudely snatched to her feet. He steadied her as she fell against him. A tremor coursed through her body. It took all her strength to keep her knees from buckling.

  “I’m waiting for your answer.”

  She cocked her head to one side and stuck out her chin. “I asked you first.”

  Waverley’s eyes turned to flint even as the scent of verbena nagged at him. “Well? What have you to say for yourself, ma’am?”

  She stepped back and clutched her gown closer. Why did he wreak such havoc on her senses?

  Without warning, he thrust aside her hands. “What are you hiding? Let’s have a look.” His fingers played a silent tune on her breastbone. They slipped inside the edge of her gown. Moved lower.

  Her breath caught when the heat of his body penetrated hers. She closed her eyes, pursed her lips in anticipation of his kiss and leaned toward him, her hands splayed aga
inst the wall behind her to steady herself.

  The back of his hand brushed across her breast. Her lips parted as she drew closer until she felt every hard inch of him.

  “Enough for the moment, milady.” He let her go and sauntered down the hall toward his chamber.

  She shivered as she watched him disappear into his chamber.

  Does he think me a strumpet who is desperate for him? Someone he can use whenever he pleases? Someday, I’ll teach him a lesson he’ll never forget, if it’s the last thing I do!

  What was wrong with her? Had she no allure? Was she not desirable? She had been spurned first by Darlington and now by Waverley, the most exasperating man she’d ever had the misfortune to encounter. He told her she was appealing, didn’t he? Was he just being polite? There must be something wrong with her, else why would men spurn her?

  She slept restlessly, but three hours later she woke at a knock on her door.

  “I need to pack your things, milady. It’s after nine. We’re almost ready to leave. Carriage is waitin’ on us,” Amy said timidly as she crossed the room and opened the curtains to let in the light. She proceeded to set out Helena’s clothing.

  “Very well.” Helena sighed and rose from the bed. After Amy had helped her dress, Helena opened her diary and began to write quickly, before she lost her thoughts. The words poured out of her soul like swift arrows piercing her heart. She wrote what she felt. The doubt. The wanting. The anguish. The rejection.

  “The landlord’s prepared your breakfast in the dining parlor, milady.”

  Helena nodded. She let Amy help her with her pelisse, but she would not relinquish the bag that held her journal, in order to make sure prying eyes could not read it.

  She was alone in the private parlor when Casper knocked and entered. “What is it, Casper?”

  “Lord Waverley’s not back from his morning ride, milady. He left word with the landlord that we’re to wait for him to return before we leave for Bodmin.”

  “Wait for his lordship? Indeed we will not. It isn’t necessary. We’re not far from Bodmin. We’ll go on as planned and the marquis may meet us there. Tell his valet to join us.”