“Yes,” he said, his chest tightening. “I’ve grown weary of the so-called delights in this world and those women are…” He paused, picturing Ophelia. “More wholesome than any I’ve met in a long time.” Then he straightened to his full height. “I think it best that you gentlemen continue your journey north without delay. I also am quite good with a pistol and I’ve no intention of allowing the debauchery to spread to Seabridge Gate.”
Crestwood gave a jerky nod. “I understand, but I must tell you, her delivery was much better.”
Craven stared at him for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Will you marry Ophelia?”
“Yes,” he answered, surprising even himself with how little hesitation he felt. In fact, it was the first right thing he’d said in ages. “If she’ll have me. After today, I’m not so certain.” But he was going to try. For the first time in what felt like years, the fog surrounding his path had cleared. He knew exactly who he wanted to be, where he wanted to be, and what he desired for his future.
And that was next to Miss Ophelia Moorish.
He rubbed his hand through his hair. If only he’d come to that conclusion last night. This entire thing might have been easier. In fact, he’d likely already be engaged. Bloody idiot, that’s what he was.
Dashlane grimaced. “Sorry about that.” Then he cleared his throat. “But we might attend that dinner if for no other reason than to thank our hosts. This little house is so cheerful that I almost feel a deep regret—” He stopped. “But I can assure you that I will be on my best behavior.”
Craven nodded. “As will I.”
Crestwood grimaced but said nothing and Chase decided he didn’t care. One man he could handle. If Crestwood tried to misbehave with any of the Moorish sisters, he could take the man. With that in mind, he turned on his heel and started after Ophelia.
Reaching the square, he saw them start down a path that was dappled with trees and rocks. Surely it was a shortcut to the house so that they didn’t need to take the road. He picked up speed and caught up to them as they crested the first hill.
Juliet was talking nonstop. “Did you see them? They were so handsome. Crestwood is the leader, don’t you think? And Dashlane…what a dashing name.”
Ophelia lifted her skirts as they continued to climb up the hill. “No one likes a romantic story better than me but those men…” She paused, her feet slowing. “They are not the stuff of romantic fantasy, Juliet. They are nightmares.”
Juliet sniffed. “That’s easy for you to say. The duke’s interest in you is—”
Ophelia raised her hand. “Irrelevant.”
“I beg to differ,” he said, announcing his presence behind them. Both women jumped.
“What are you doing?” Ophelia huffed and then started moving again, pulling her sister along.
“I told you that I would escort you home.” He had every intention of keeping Ophelia in his sights now.
Ophelia didn’t stop. “That is entirely unnecessary.”
“It isn’t,” he said, easily matching their pace despite Ophelia’s attempts to speed up.
“It is,” she answered, stopping on the trail and spinning back around to him. “When you consider that you and your friends are the most dangerous things in Seabridge Gate.”
He winced. Her point was sound. “They are not my friends.”
Her hands came to her hips. “Will you deny then that you are dangerous?”
He shifted his weight, looking to the ground. “I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t.” She shook her head. “I’ve pieced it all together myself. But I would appreciate it if you’d return to the cottage and stay with the other men. I won’t tell my father but I’d rather you not stay in our home.”
Juliet gasped and his teeth snapped together. He drew in a long breath, choosing his next words very carefully. “Juliet. Would you be so kind as to walk far enough ahead of us that you can still see us but that we have a chance to talk?”
Juliet looked at her sister and Ophelia shifted again, her fists clenching in her skirts. “Fine,” she answered for her sister. “Go ahead, Juliet.”
He sighed a small bit of relief. At least he could plead his case. What her answer would be, he still couldn’t say.
* * *
Ophelia waited, her toe tapping as Juliet strolled ahead. Nothing but the sound of the ocean and the chirping of birds filled the silence that hung between them.
“Well,” she asked, clasping her hands together. The single word had come out harshly but her feelings of hurt and betrayal added an edge to her voice. He’d known she was smitten and he’d kissed her just for fun, not returning her romantic interest.
“I already told you that I lost my parents.”
He reached for her hand but she didn’t take it. “You did,” she said, facing the ocean to stare at the wave. She could see the cool blue off in the distance, from this spot on the hill path. “And I felt sorry for you. Thought maybe I could help—” She stopped, clamping her lips shut.
“Ophelia, you are so kind.” He stepped closer, touching her arm. “Thank you.”
“I was wrong,” She looked at him, her face taut with the tension that thrummed through her entire body. “You only wanted my kisses. Maybe you wanted more, I don’t know.”
“Why do you think that?” He lightly brushed his fingers back and forth along her sleeve.
It was a light touch meant to soothe and she tried to ignore the warmth that spread from that touch. “You left.” She took another step back. “To attend a party where you hoped to engage in—” Heat filled her cheeks as she took another step in retreat. Unfortunately her heel hit a rock and she started to fall backward.
She flailed her hands, but Chase was quick and lunged forward, catching her and dragging her against his chest.
The moment she came into contact with the hard muscles of his body her own shivered in response. She spread her hands over his chest, heat rising in her cheeks.
“I’ve been searching for what thing would fill my life,” he whispered close to her ear. “My parents died in a boat wreck and the truth was, I should have gone with them. I told them I was staying home because I needed to return to Oxford, but the truth was I wanted to tup one of the maids.” He shuddered against her, the memory clearly causing him pain. She found her arms sliding up about his neck. “I should have been with them instead of fooling around with some girl who meant nothing. That seems to be all I am good at. Meaningless dalliances.”
Her heart ached for him and she began to understand his penchant for debauchery…or she thought she might. Meeting his eyes, she pressed her lips together. “You’re wrong. I don’t blame you for being wrong; I don’t know how I might have survived a loss like yours. I had my sisters and my father when my mother passed. But you shouldn’t have been on that boat and if your parents could talk, they’d thank their lucky stars that you wished to tup a maid.”
He gave a short barking laugh as he slowly righted them, but kept her in his arms. “I’d never thought about it that way.”
“They’d want you to live, to be a duke, to…” She hesitated.
He bent his head down, touching his forehead to hers. “To marry a nice girl who would keep me from debauchery and have my babies and help carry on the family name.”
She couldn’t help it. That part of her that had been wishing to hear those words jolted inside her, sending a shower of excitement all through her body. “I suppose they would.”
His fingers spread on her back. “I want you to be that woman, Ophelia.”
Clutching about his neck, she hung on as she fought the wave of longing that rose inside her. It was a nice proposal as far as those sorts of things went. He’d bared his hurt, he’d asked for her help. Two things that made her most happy. But it lacked one crucial ingredient. This was her one opportunity to have a grand adventure…falling in love. He’d talked of her suitability, what a nice girl she was. But there had not been a hint of affection that
had tinted his words. “It’s a lovely offer,” she whispered as she tried to loosen her grip and back out of his arms, but he held firm.
“I’m not sure that means yes.” He frowned, his brows drawing together.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t.”
The frown deepened. “Are you angry that I kissed you?”
“No.” She stopped trying to pull away. “The kiss was wonderful. The single best moment of my life.” How did she explain that the kiss they’d shared held all the romance and passion she’d dreamed of, read about, wished for all her life? And his proposal was decidedly lacking in that same emotion.
“I don’t think I understand.” Then his brows lifted. “You’re upset about the party. Or about my past being so…colorful.”
She cocked her head considering his words. “Maybe. In fairness, I tend to paint my life with a romantic brush and when you left this morning…I realized this wasn’t a grand gesture on your part. But I still thought to help you with your grief. You haven’t had anyone for that.” She drew in a deep breath. “But when I learned you left me to go tup whomever you planned to tup, well…I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not the woman for the job. I’m no match for such an experienced lord.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “You are better for the job than any woman I’ve ever met.”
That surprised her and she had to confess the tiniest seed of hope bloomed in her chest. It might be foolish on her part, likely was, but she wondered if she could help him still. And by some miracle, perhaps, in helping him, real love could develop between them. She sucked in her breath. That was an adventure of a different kind but an adventure still.
Chapter Ten
Chase sat in a dark corner of the library watching the door. Mr. Moorish hadn’t arrived home until after eleven and then he’d begged forgiveness from Chase but he was dead tired and requested they speak in the morning.
Chase had agreed.
Mr. Moorish had rubbed his eyes and muttered something about an unusual proliferation of lords.
Chase had winced and choked back a laugh in the same moment. Mr. Moorish was absolutely correct and even worse, they were lords of the worst ilk. Though, he might count himself as a recently reformed rake. He had no desire to touch anyone other than Ophelia. And he wanted to touch her often and everywhere.
Which was why he now sat in the library. He happened to know this was her favorite room and eventually she’d come in search of a book. Perhaps not tonight but as he wasn’t likely to sleep anyhow, he might as well wait on the off chance she arrived.
He should be exhausted. He’d been up most of the night last night and had travelled all day. But he’d never been less inclined to sleep in his life. Every nerve ending was ablaze as he remembered the feel of Ophelia pressed against him when she’d tripped that afternoon.
He pictured her lush lips, her sparkling eyes, the feel of her curves. While she hadn’t said yes to his proposal, she hadn’t said no either. And, former rake that he was, he had decided to use her attraction to him against her. He knew when a woman wanted him…she did…and how to touch her in all the ways that would override her better judgment.
His morals pricked at the thought. This sinful behavior was what he’d been running from most of his life. He seduced first and considered the consequences later, but in this case, he didn’t think he was being rash. The consequence was marriage to one of the most wholesome of people. Something that was sure to be good for him.
A rustling by the door pulled him from his thoughts and he sat straighter in his chair, squinting his eyes toward the entrance.
Ophelia appeared to float into the room, a gauzy night rail skimming down her body as she held a single candle aloft.
He caught his breath as he noted her loosely braided hair that cascaded over one creamy shoulder. She appeared almost magical, as though she’d risen from one of the fairy tales she loved so much and he stared in wonder as her fingertips skimmed along the spines of several books. It must be a habit of hers for he’d witnessed her do the same thing the previous night, but it was no less entrancing.
Her fingers were long and tapered, her touch exceedingly gentle, her gaze dreamy… Or was he imagining that?
He nearly laughed to himself, thinking that Ophelia was rewriting his own preferences because the library was fast becoming the most erotic place in the world.
Slowly, he pushed up from the chair. She stopped, setting down her candle and then pulling a book from the shelf. Ophelia cracked open the binding and skimmed a few pages before she put the title away again. “Which of you will help me sleep?” she asked, tilting her head up to scan the shelves.
“I will,” he answered, moving into the circle of her light the candle shown.
She gave a yelp and spun about to face him but he was quick and circled her waist with his hands to steady her.
She frowned. “You frightened me.”
“Apologies, my sweet. You told me last night to do my pacing in the library since I couldn’t sleep.” He flashed her his best smile. “I was attempting to guard your sleep.”
First surprise flitted across her features, widening her eyes, and then understanding softened them, her lips curving up into a smile. “I did say that, didn’t I?” She shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
“Why not?” He fitted her against his frame as she looked away at the shelves of books.
“It was an interesting day.”
His eyebrows rose as he bent his head closer to hers. “Why is that?”
One of her brows quirked up in response. “Let’s see. A duke asked me to marry him, several more lords arrived in town, my sisters are absolutely atwitter and…” She held up a single finger, “My father seems oblivious to it all.”
“Does he?” he asked, sliding the tips of his fingers up her back, the curve of it causing his body to tighten. “He knows the other men are here. He mentioned it.”
She shook her head. “He’s always had his head in the clouds…or more accurately, in books. I know the feeling but I’d like to think that I quickly come back to reality. And the reality is my sisters and I are in danger.”
“No, that isn’t true,” he whispered, letting his breath tickle the skin of her neck. “I would never let anything happen to you and, as your husband and a duke, I would make sure those men behaved.”
She shivered and he knew his touch was working. “But who will protect me from you?”
* * *
Chase clenched his teeth as her words settled over him. It was an excellent question. He used his middle finger to trace the curve of her delicate shoulder. “You don’t need protecting from me, love. I want to tuck you by my side and keep you safe always.”
“Very pretty words,” she murmured, her breath catching as his finger traced the inside of her arm, just grazing the flesh of her breast. “But even in this moment you are compromising my—” She stopped as he reached her bare wrist and then ran his fingers across her open palm. Her breathing was shallow as she looked down at their hands.
“I’m not compromising. I am convincing.”
Her lashes fluttered closed. “Convincing me of what…exactly?”
Leaning down, he placed a light kiss just behind her ear. The candlelight flickered off her skin as his lips caressed her silky flesh. “That I can make you happy as a husband. Keep you content.” Then he kissed a trail down her neck and across her collarbone.
“I’ve no doubt that you can teach me all sorts of delicious things.” She brought her hands up to grasp his biceps, her head tilting back as victory sang in his veins. “My concerns involve our emotional bond and possibly your fidelity.”
He loosened the string of the night rail about her neck. “My fidelity is not a concern, Ophelia. I swear to you, you will find me in your bed every night. I wish to leave my past self behind and start a much brighter future with you.” And then he kissed the skin of her chest, now exposed.
She dug her fingers into his arm
s. “That is comforting.”
“Let me show you how good it could be.” He continued to kiss over the cloth, blazing a trail to the peak of her breast. They were as full as he’d imagined them to be and cupping one, he kissed her nipple then sucked it into his mouth.
Her gasp and then moan said all he needed to know. But then her fingers, which had been gripping him tightly, started to push him away. “I shouldn’t. We’re not married or promised…what if—”
“Ophelia.” He moved to the other nipple, bringing it into his mouth as she arched her back to meet his touch. He growled out his satisfaction as he showered attention on her other breast. “I’ll not take your maidenhead, but I can show you how good it can be. Will you let me?”
She shook her head, starting to back up again. “Chase. I’m trying to decide the right path. I shouldn’t allow what you’re doing to color my thinking.”
In answer, he ran his hand down her flat abdomen, the silky cotton of her night rail having warmed from their body heat. He slid his fingers between her legs, pressing lightly against her womanly flesh. Her sharp gasp let him know just how much she liked the touch as her knees buckled.
Wrapping his other hand below her behind, he held her up as he started sliding back and forth along her seam. She whimpered, her fingers digging into his neck. He increased the pressure as he lifted his head to take her lips in his own. She was careening toward her finish, her legs trembling against his. Much as he wanted to feel her break apart in his arms, this was a lesson on the benefits of making a rogue your own and he’d only just begun the lesson.
Chapter Eleven
A hot, beautiful, agonizing passion curled from Ophelia’s apex and spread through her body like fire. This was not a beautiful fairy tale, this was real and hot and so delicious that she could barely stand it.
“Would you like to know what else we could do?” Chase whispered in her ear, slowing his intimate caress.
When Only An Indecent Duke Will Do (Romancing The Rake Book 1) Page 6
