Heaven Scent

by SpursFanatic

  The bastard.

  Rafe stopped the carriage in front of their house. “Once the business settles in again, we’ll take a trip down there and look for a house. If nothing else, we’ll build one.”

  Shaking her head, Isabel gave him a watery smile. “It wouldn’t be the same, son. Atlanta was something I wanted to share with Colin.” She added, “Do not worry. I will be content as long as you and Patrick are here. And you know I thrive on Brahmin balls and events. Speaking of, do you plan to escort Tarin to the Cabot ball?”

  “I do,” he replied, knowing his conviction was in vain.

  “You sound confident for a man in pursuit of a woman that does not want to be pursued.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t say it would be easy.”

  She was going to fight him all the way. That was a given.

  But he prepared for battle. “As a matter of fact, I expect a fight to rival the Mexican American War.”

  #######

  “Tarin…” Kitty announced, as she thumbed through her Godey’s Lady’s Book, “as your friend, I feel I am entitled to certain privileges regarding your… matters of the heart.”

  Tarin stilled her spoon in her china cup. She glanced across the parlor where Kitty sat in the cream Chippendale wing chair. “What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

  Kitty cocked an eyebrow. “Why Rafe Sutherland, of course.”

  Tarin prayed the guilt that stopped her heart was not reflected in her face. However, when Kitty tried to hide her smile behind a napkin, Tarin knew she must look comical.

  Blast it.

  “What of him?” Tarin asked, swallowing hard. She sat forward on the sofa and lifted her chin.

  “I can’t believe you allowed me to carry on about him as though he were part of a museum display when all along you had… personal knowledge of his attributes.”

  “Kitty, that sounds horrid. I do not have personal knowledge of…” - Oh, blast - “all of his attributes.”

  Kitty gasped as she sat forward, the book falling to the Oriental rug. “Aha! So you have kept something from me.”

  “Nothing of significance,” Tarin cried. “Besides the seminar last evening, Father and I were his guests for dinner, and he walked me to Mrs. Winthrop’s home.” Her face reddened. “That is all.”

  Could Kitty tell she was lying? Lying, for pity’s sake. Tarin had always considered herself an honorable person yet, here she was being dishonest with her best friend. What had this man done to her?

  “I would think you’d be more interested in what I heard at the seminar than what I know of Rafe Sutherland.” Tarin picked up her teacup and took a healthy drink of rum-laced tea. Her father’s imports certainly came in handy on certain occasions.

  “We’ll get to that,” Kitty said, sipping at her own tea. “This is much more interesting.”

  “We are on the verge of seeing our dreams come to fruition, Kit. We have well-qualified instructors lined up, facilities available, and connections in the legislature. We have lived our lives for this time. Yet, you tell me that you‘d rather know how well I‘m acquainted with Rafe Sutherland?”

  “Yes!”

  “I cannot believe this.” She shook her head. “You know I have no desire to get involved with a man.”

  “Yet, you find this one attractive.” Kitty pursed her lips.

  Tarin stilled. She felt as though she were undergoing a Scotland Yard inquisition. “You act as though I am interested in him. I am not. Besides,” Tarin lowered her voice. “I am only the daughter of a merchant with whom he can conduct business.”

  She was not fool enough to think her family‘s wealth held no incentive for potential suitors. That knowledge, along with her desire to become a physician, made the idea of a loving marriage virtually impossible.

  Kitty held her gaze. “How do you know he is not attracted to you?” she countered. “Perhaps Rafe is self conscious of his scars and believes you would not be interested.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Tarin, you are used to men fawning over you. Perhaps, Mr. Sutherland is interested but not so easily distracted. He is just returning to life and a business he has not been a part of for ten years. Perhaps his distractions call for unusual measures.”

  Studying her friend, Tarin shook her head. “You are not saying I should pursue him…” She reached for her cup again.

  “Well… not so much pursue as… notify him you would welcome his advances.”

  “Kitty,” Tarin cried.

  “Well, you would, wouldn’t you?”

  Tarin’s face heated before she sliced her hand through the air. “No. Absolutely not. I must stay focused on my goals.” She glared at Kitty. “And you are not helping me do so.”

  “Come now, Tarin,” Kitty said with a sly lilt in her voice, “I saw you eying him like some of Mrs. Miller’s taffy. Not to mention, you’ve obviously had a previous encounter with him that is too shameless to reveal, otherwise you would have told me by now.”

  Gasping, Tarin’s eyes rounded. “You are horrid.”

  “I thought she only referred to me with that word.”

  Tarin’s heart jumped to her throat as she groaned mentally. Whipping her head around, she saw Rafe leaning against the doorjamb, looking much too wild for the conservative clothes he wore. In a snug-fitting vest and brown, pinstripe trousers, he filled the doorway, his shoulders nearly touching the frame on either side. The crisp white cravat at his neck was tied perfectly, his thick, dark hair swept back off his face. As usual, he wore no coat but graced them with a smile that made her knees weak.

  Heaven, please tell her he didn’t hear their conversation.

  “Mr. Sutherland,” Kitty announced, “I’m afraid Tarin is much more liberal with her adjectives than you think.”

  Tarin glared at Kitty. The man had the nerve to laugh.

  Kitty rose to greet him. “She saves the special ones for her closest friends.”

  “Well then, I must be very special,” he remarked, his dark eyes twinkling.

  Special wasn’t quite the word she’d use.

  “I should toss out the both of you.”

  “What? And ruin this little gala?” He picked up the bottle of rum on the center table as he sat beside Tarin on the sofa. “What‘s the occasion?”

  Goosebumps sprouted on Tarin’s arm where his sleeve brushed hers. Already his scent of spice and soap, along with a surprising touch of roses, filled the room, bringing on a dizziness she was sure had nothing to do with the liquor.

  “Thanks to you,” she said, gazing at his dark, chiseled profile, “we gained two very important, male, petition signatures today.” She couldn’t help but return the grin he graced on her. “We also gained unanimous approval from the attendees today - including your mother.” She blushed under his close scrutiny. “It was a good day for us.”

  “Yes,” Kitty added with a smile, “we thought the measure called for some of Lord Worthington’s imported rum.”

  “Would you like some?” Tarin asked, as she set down her saucer.

  His grin was breathtaking. “No man turns away good rum.”

  Rather than waiting, Rafe reached past Tarin and picked up her cup. His dark eyes watched her as he raised it to his lips and drank, taking his time as he slowly drained the meager contents. The movement of his Adam’s apple drew her eyes like a beacon, the strong column of his neck tanned and muscled. Tarin felt a shiver run through her as he lowered the empty cup to her saucer.

  “It tastes like you,” he said, his voice deep and velvety soft. “Sweet, but filled with fire.”

  Tarin jumped up from her seat. Oh no, he was not going to pull her into his web again. “I have been called many things,” she said, moving to the fireplace, “but no one has ever called me sweet.”

  He rose to face her. “No one has tasted you like I have,” he countered, as Kitty conspicuously slipped from the room.

  The traitor.

  Tarin had to stop this now before it got out of hand. “Your ar
rogance knows no bounds, Mr. Sutherland.”

  Rafe’s jaw hardened. Tarin swallowed as her eyes met his glittering irises in a heated deadlock.

  “You’ve allowed other men to kiss you like I have?”

  His nearness caused her heart to race. She took a deep breath and told him the truth. “Many have… tried.”

  His eyes were fierce. “But didn’t succeed because you had no ulterior motive? No need for something of your own gain?”

  She ignored the burning sting of his claim. “That is not why I kissed you. And I cannot believe you would accuse me of such brazenness.”

  “Accuse you? You wouldn’t have kissed me otherwise.”

  “Why would I? You have no interest in me as a woman. I am only Henry Worthington’s daughter. A means to your own gain.”

  Stilling, he stared at her, a flush blooming on his face. Rafe glanced away, shaking his head. He laughed to himself as his eyes turned back to her.

  “Why do you laugh? Is that not why you are here this evening? To discuss business with my father?”

  “Yes, that’s true,” he replied with a brief nod. “But I’m laughing because you’re naïve, Tarin. There isn’t a man with breath in his body that wouldn’t be attracted to you.”

  Naïve? Tarin clenched her fist until her fingernails dug into her palm. The man could irritate her with the least amount of effort.

  “Oh yes, I’ve had my fill of men that want my money, my status, and my body. Men that don’t give a wit about me, who I am inside, what I want out of life.” She exhaled, wondering why she even bothered saying it. Why she felt she could say such things to Rafe.

  He stared at her a long moment, his dark, dark eyes studying her. Tarin met his gaze, lifting her chin in challenge.

  “As I recall,” he said, taking a step towards her.

  Tarin caught her breath. She took a step back.

  “I was the only person at our dinner party that was interested in your views on women and the vote.”

  She felt her face heat. “Yes -”

  “And as I remember,” he interrupted, taking another step towards her. “I sneaked you into the men’s seminar - a seminar you had been trying to get into for months.“

  Swallowing hard, she stepped back again. She didn’t like the way this conversation was going. “Y-yes…”

  “And, I was the man that got Pensworthy to sign your damned petition,” he reminded her, pinning her back against the fireplace mantel, and planting his arm beside her head. “And I signed it myself. So don‘t throw me in the same waste pile as everyone else. I won‘t have it, Tarin.”

  Tarin wanted to run from the room - and tried.

  Rafe was too quick. He blocked her escape with his other hand against the mantel. She was pinned in. Blast it.

  “Is that right?“ she asked, staring up into his hypnotizing eyes. “And, just what is it you will have?” “Acknowledgement of your support? A thank you for your interest?”

  Rafe’s scent enveloped her, making Tarin wince inside at the power of its appeal. Inhaling deeply, her breath came out in short, shallow spurts. He leaned towards her, the rustle of his clothing the only sound in the quiet parlor.“I want exclusivity.”

  His lips hovered above her mouth. Tarin shut her eyes against their magnetic pull. She couldn’t think straight with him so close. “Exclusivity?”

  “Yes, mi dulce,” he whispered against her mouth, his lips brushing hers. “Just you… and me.”

  Heaven help her, she wanted his kiss. Wanted his lips pressed against hers like a weak, infatuated female deep in the clutches of a man’s charm.

  How was she supposed to resist this? This man that made her forget all she had worked for?

  Suddenly, Rafe’s lips were gone. Tarin’s eyes sprang open just as his lips found the sensitive area behind her ear. She gasped, his breath on her skin shocking in its intimacy. Tarin arched her neck to allow him better access.

  “Say yes, sweetheart.“ He trailed kisses down her throat, taking his sweet, breath-stealing time, until his lips met and lingered on her erratic pulse. “Say yes and anything you want is yours.”

  You. I want you.

  Rafe’s fingers in her hair caused a shiver to dart through Tarin. She couldn’t move, couldn’t form a coherent thought. His touch was soft, reverent, as he smoothed the pins away and allowed them to fall to the floor in a tinkling symphony. He fanned the thick waves around her shoulders like a blanket.

  His fingertips grazed along her jaw, eliciting goosebumps on her skin. The rough calluses were foreign to her, like sandpaper against her flesh.

  “Rafe, I can’t think –“

  He kissed her then, his lips feather-light against her own as he cradled her head in his palm. His fingers trailed down her throat, across her collarbone, then lower still.

  “You’re so soft. Your skin is like silk.”

  Tarin’s heart raced in her chest. She knew he could feel it racing beneath his fingers. How could he appear so normal, so in control, when she could hardly breathe?

  He kissed her eyelids, one at a time, his fingers teasing as they brushed across the tops of her breasts peaking above the neckline of her gown. He was gentle as he trailed kisses over her face and down her throat, his scent filling her nostrils. Tarin wanted to weep from the gentleness emanating from this big, strong man. But, she wanted more, so much –

  Tarin gasped. His mouth at her cleavage shocked and exhilarated her. She clutched his head to her chest, her heart wild and pounding.

  “Yes, Rafe...”

  He growled low in his throat as he flicked open the front of her dress. The cool air rushed over her breasts exposed above her corset. She couldn’t watch him as he freed her breasts, shame warring with the exquisite pleasure of his mouth. She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to realize what she would surely regret in the morning.

  He crushed his mouth to hers as his palm closed over her breast. Tarin moaned into his mouth as sensations she had never known existed, bombarded her. She held his hand to her breast, deepening the kiss, reveling in the freedom of his touch, the rum-laced taste of his tongue in her mouth.

  Tarin had known men and women did such things. But heavenly days, she could also see why such sinful delights weren’t spoken of.

  She wanted to know where it would take her.

  He crushed her against the cool wall beside the fireplace, his body hot, taut against hers. His breathing was loud, labored as he carried her on a wave of ecstasy she never wanted to end.

  The shock of his mouth leaving hers and covering her freed breast caused Tarin to cry out. Just when she thought the pleasure was too much, he gave her more.

  “Oh, Rafe, yes…”

  Plowing her hands into his hair, Tarin held him to her as he drank from her like a man dying of thirst. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, as he did her. She wanted him as drunk on sensation as she was, wanted to know she could elicit the same feelings in Rafe as he did her.

  She had never had the freedom to touch a man as she pleased, to feel the heat, the passion of arousal.

  She wanted it with Rafe.

  Pulling her fingers from his hair, she splayed her palms against his back. She slid them under his vest, needing the heat of his body.

  Rafe jumped away from her as though he’d been burned. “No.”

  Losing her balance, Tarin clutched his arm for support. She stared up at him, dumbfounded, feeling as though he’d struck her.

  “Get dressed, Tarin.” He steadied her and stepped away.

  Shame and regret slammed into her like a speeding carriage. And with it came confusion, hurt, and a desire to sink into the carpet.

  She must have disappointed him. Why else would he have stopped?

  Yanking up her corset, Tarin knew Rafe watched her every move. She refused to meet his eyes as she closed the front of her dress. “I’m sorry I am not more experienced in these matters.”

  Rafe‘s laugh was bitter. “Tarin, you have no idea...”
Blowing out a breath, he shoved his fingers through his hair.

  “Well, what is it then?” She smoothed down her hair.

  Rafe’s hand shook as he gripped her chin. She stared up at his handsome face, saw the hurt and desire in his eyes. The enormity of what she had done came crashing down on her.

  She had acted like a harlot, had thrown herself at the first man she was attracted to. How could she face herself in the mirror? Face her father, and Kit?

  Tears sprang to her eyes and Tarin hated herself for them. Why was she so weak? Why did she put herself in this predicament?

  “Tarin, don’t cry.” His thumb grazed her chin.

  She couldn’t face the pity. Not from Rafe. She ran from the room.

  “Tarin,” he cried.

  Snatching the door open, Tarin stopped short when she saw Kitty waiting across the foyer. Kitty rushed towards her. Tarin halted her with a palm out. “Please, no –“

  “Tarin – “ Rafe said, springing from the door.

  “Leave her be,” Kitty cried, wrapping an arm around Tarin despite her protest. “I think you should leave,” she told Rafe, her gaze trailing over him as though he were a river rat.

  The worry on Rafe’s face disappeared to be replaced by a determined glint. Busting through the weak defense of her wide-eyed friend, Rafe clutched the back of Tarin’s head and kissed her with bruising force. The raw, open-mouth kiss declared her his, despite his earlier protests. Her knees would not hold her when he let go. He steadied her only to grace her with a smile that made them go weak all over again.

  “I will call on you tomorrow.” He gave a curt bow. “Good evening, ladies.”

  Chapter 7

  “Tarin, you must marry Rafe Sutherland to save your reputation.”

  Staring at the shocked face of the Worthington’s butler, Rafe held his finger to his lips. He stood just outside the parlor door blatantly listening to Kitty admonish Tarin for what had transpired between them the night before.

  “I will do no such thing. It is not as if I shared the man’s bed.”

  Oh, but she would have, Rafe declared to himself. If he had been the man he once was, Tarin would’ve lost her virginity last night. He would be making wedding plans this morning, rather than standing beside an owl-eyed English butler, eavesdropping on her conversation.