by SpursFanatic
God above, he loved her spirit.
“I have told you why I cannot marry you. Do you think it is easy for me?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I do.”
Her mouth hung open. “How can you say such a thing? In your note, you say I have won.” She pointed at her chest. “I have won nothing, Rafe. I have lost you and I am on the verge of losing this college.” Her shoulders slumped. “What do I have left?”
He shook his head. “You become a warrior when it comes to fighting for this college, Tarin. Yet, you take the coward’s way when it comes to our marriage.”
Her eyes widened as though he had poked her between them. “Coward’s way?” she cried. “This college does not have the ability to hurt me. Should it be denied, I will be disappointed, yes. But my love for you has the potential to destroy me and I will not take that chance.” She reached past him to the doorknob. “If this is the ambiance of winning, I do not want to lose.” She turned the knob.
He slammed it shut above her head.
She loved him. Thank you, God.
Turning her to face him, he picked her up by the waist and twirled her around.
“Rafe!” She clutched his shoulders. “What are you doing?”
Pulling her mouth down to his, he kissed her hard on the mouth and set her on the floor. “Kissing my fiancée.”
Shaking her head as if to clear it, she said, “What? No…”
Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her again, this time longer and slower. He felt her sigh on his chin. “Yes. And you can even set the date - as long as its no later than Friday.”
“Friday? That’s four days away.”
She wasn’t fighting it anymore. He smiled as he trailed kisses down her throat. “Umm, hmm…”
“No, Rafe.” She clutched his face in her hands, her fingers running through his beard. “Not unless you promise not to take unnecessary chances.” Her voice, though soft, shook with urgency. “Promise me you will not die.”
Taking her hands in his, he kissed her fingertips. His next words were crucial. He had to speak wisely. “I promise not to take unnecessary chances. And I will pray that we die together. For Tarin,” he said, kissing her forehead, “I could not bear to see your death either.”
She stared at him, her face giving nothing away. Rafe worried that his words, though sincere, did not sway her. His heart stopped in his chest when the silence lingered.
“Mr. Sutherland, you will have a wife by Friday.”
His heart started up again in double time. “You are certain? No more changing your mind?”
She shook her head. “I am certain.”
Suddenly, Rafe found himself on the end of one of her sole-burning kisses, her mouth leaving no doubt of where her thoughts lie.
The same place his were - in his bed. He wanted to carry her up those stairs and take her like the madman he held in check. He wanted to bury himself to the hilt inside her and finally claim her as his wife.
Would he ever get that chance?
The clock chimed six. Setting her away from him, he grabbed her hand and led her out into the foyer. “I’m sorry to cut this short, sweetheart, but I’ve got to move along.”
She frowned up at him, her eyes a bit unfocused. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve got some legislators to visit.” He grinned at her. “I can’t see them like this.” He motioned towards his clothes.
Mouth agape, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “You would do that?”
“Of course.” He pulled her mouth to his again.
“I see you two have reconciled.”
Groaning, Rafe pulled away to stare at his brother. He stood just inside the door with Rosa on his arm.
“We have.” He hugged Tarin against him.
Tarin wrapped her arms around his waist. “Good evening, Patrick. Rosa. Yes, I have been given the task of scheduling our wedding - anytime before Friday.”
“Friday?” they said in unison.
Rafe nodded as he set her away from him. “Yes. You will entertain Tarin until I get back?”
“Where are you going?” Patrick raised a brow.
“He is going to solicit votes from the legislators for the college.” She gazed up at him with a proud smile. “We are in dire straits at the moment and they vote tomorrow.”
Wrinkling his nose, Patrick made a face. “I hope you plan to bathe and dress presentably.”
Rafe blew out a frustrated breath. “You will make a fine mother some day, Patrick.”
The women laughed.
Patrick gave him a look that would scare a lesser man. “If you do not mind, I would like to go with you.”
Tarin gasped. Rosa whipped her head around to stare at Patrick.
He stared at her, taking in her every feature. “Rosa has expressed an interest in the college as well. She would have to receive English instruction, but I am willing to help with that.” He turned to face Rafe.
Rosa turned his face back to hers and kissed him full on the mouth. Rafe laughed to himself when Patrick wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.
“It appears there may be two weddings in the Sutherland household,” Tarin said with a soft voice.
“Indeed, it does.” Releasing her, he headed for the study. He had to let them know he wouldn’t be returning to the poker game.
He had his own game to play. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had defeated Kent.
Chapter 15
“You’d think the man was headed to the guillotine rather than marrying the most sought after woman in Boston.”
Sitting at the desk, writing a contract for a new clothing merchant, Rafe heard Patrick’s ribbing but didn’t acknowledge it. His wedding was Friday, less than two days away. He should be happy.
He was doing his damndest not to think about it.
Tarin, on the other hand, glowed from within. After receiving word that the college had been approved, he could do no wrong in her eyes. She had become more eager than ever to share his bed and had even admitted to the priest, Father Finnegan, that she was anxious to start a family.
Rafe blew out a breath as he tossed his pen on the desk. He had to tell her. He had to show her his scars. After all they had been through, he could not marry her without revealing them.
“Your brother is justified in his worry,” Beau commented as he sat studying the newspaper. “He is used to having the upper hand with women. With Lady Worthington, he is at his most vulnerable.”
Leave it to the damned Frenchman to land the hardest blow. Rafe gritted his teeth against the worry that sat on his shoulders like an anchor.
“Why?” Patrick smirked as he lounged on the sofa, one leg thrown on the center table. “Because she’s prettier than he is?”
Beau lowered the newspaper to frown at Patrick before looking at Rafe. Some days his brother was a real ass. Then again, he hadn’t seen Rafe’s scars.
Beau had seen the fresh wounds.
Patrick angled his head to meet Rafe’s eyes. “What? You think your scars will scare Tarin away?”
Rafe swallowed hard as he looked down at his lap.
Sitting up, Patrick gave a brief laugh of disbelief. “Surely, you jest?“
When Rafe didn’t reply, Patrick began his tirade. “Do you have any idea just how many men have offered for her hand?”
Rafe’s body tensed further.
“Handsome, rich, witty, intelligent - she has had them all. And has turned down every one.” Patrick rose to stand in front of the desk. Placing his hands on top, he leaned over Rafe. “Tarin is a woman of her own mind, Rafe. You know that. Give her more credit. She loves you. She would not have agreed to marry you, otherwise. Your scars are irrelevant.”
Irrelevant? Anger and pent-up frustration hit Rafe’s brain and shot to his nerve endings. He heaved for breath. Clenched his hands into fists.
Jumping up from his seat, he leaned into Patrick‘s face. “Irrelevant? Irrelevant?!”
Pa
trick‘s eyes widened.
“What do you know, you coddled bastard?” He proceeded to unbutton his vest. “Have you hung from an Indian’s rope with bullet holes in your body?” He tossed the vest to the floor. “Have you had men, women, children curse you…” He unbuttoned his shirt. “…spit on you, slap you, while, one by one, they slice the skin from your body?” Rafe swallowed as he whipped off his shirt. “Look at this and tell me again it is irrelevant.”
He watched as horror and repulsion played across his brother’s shocked, blotchy face. Patrick couldn’t pull his eyes from Rafe‘s torso.
“Well, brother? What do you think? Do you still think she could love me?” He grabbed Patrick by the cravat and pulled him to within an inch of his face. “Could you love me? Like this?”
Patrick did nothing but stare at him with pity and remorse.
“Well? What do you have to say now?” Rafe shoved him away. “Let me guess - you’re sorry. Or, you don’t know what to say. Right?”
Patrick’s eyes locked with his. His features turned to stone. Nostrils flaring, he came around the desk and shoved Rafe against the wall. It took all Rafe had not to hit him.
“You sonovabitch!” Patrick shoved him again. “You accuse me of pity when you carry enough to fill the blasted room. Yes, your scars are hideous and, for what its worth, I am sorry that it happened to you.” He planted his hands on his hips. “But coddled? You arrogant bastard. I am the one that took over the reins when you decided to feed your rebellion. I am the one that had to live with a father that compared me to you every single day after you left.” He pointed a thumb at his chest. “I am the one that had to console mother when father died, and I have worked my fingers to the bone trying to save Sutherland Shipping from ruin.” His breathing was labored. “Me, Rafe. Not you.” He pointed at Rafe. “Don‘t ever question my manhood again or you will find yourself face up on the floor.”
Rafe could do nothing but stare at his brother. Beau stood just beyond Patrick’s shoulder, ready to step in. Rafe never would’ve guessed Patrick had such passion. Rosa had been a good influence.
Proud of his brother for standing up to him, Rafe had to admit he was right - to a certain degree. He did feel sorry for himself and had not given Patrick the credit he deserved.
But their future was also on the line. Without Henry’s deal, they could face bankruptcy. Regardless of his feelings, he had to marry Tarin. Everything hinged on her reaction to him.
“To think anyone would not be affected by this is unequivocally irrational, Patrick,” Rafe said, bending to pick up his shirt. “Tarin is…” God, his chest hurt. “…special. To have her see me this way...”
He couldn’t finish. He couldn’t voice the concern. Shoving his arms through the sleeves, he started to button it. “God has graced me with her love - he can also take it away at a moment’s notice. I have seen myself. I know what my reaction is everyday when I look in the mirror. For someone that has not been exposed to such… disgust, it will be shocking.”
He bent to pick up his vest. She ran from him in his nightmares. In them, he heard her scream, saw the complete terror in her beautiful eyes. She acted as if he were some sort of monster.
Rafe gritted his teeth. He had to face it - he was one.
“For what it’s worth,” Rafe added, “thank you for all you did through the years. I know it wasn’t easy. Once we get the business on its feet, I want you to take a long vacation.” He held out his hand for a shake. “Truce?”
Patrick took it with a grin. “Make that a wedding trip. I’d like to take Rosa down to Atlanta.”
“Wedding trip?” Beau cried, coming up for a handshake himself.
“I haven’t asked her yet, but I plan to once this one gets Tarin to the church.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder.
Grinning, Rafe couldn‘t help but tease his brother. “St. John, should we tell him Rosa sleeps with a gun?”
Patrick whipped his head around. “What?”
Laughing, Beau shook his head in a dramatic fashion. “Yes, you don’t want to wake her suddenly. It could be dangerous.”
“There will only be one gun in our bed...” Patrick glanced down at his crotch.
Roaring with laughter, Rafe buttoned up his vest. “Yes, but as with any gun, its aim could be off when used for the first time.”
Beau threw his head back and laughed.
“Tease me all you want,” Patrick said, frowning at their mirth. “But I am not the one that is scared to bed my woman.”
Shaking his head, a defensive tone laced Rafe’s voice. “I really should deck you just once to teach you a lesson.”
Patrick grinned. “For a man that was legendary with the ladies before he left, you give the impression you have lost your touch.”
Rafe frowned at the smirk lighting Beau’s face. “Like hell I have.”
Taking him by the shoulders, Patrick shook Rafe. “Well then use that renowned charm of yours and bed the woman, for Pete’s sake.”
Hell, he wanted to bury himself inside her and touch that delectable skin of hers more than anything on earth. The kisses and whispered desires she had bestowed on him after the college approval had nearly cost him his pride.
But he couldn’t give himself false hope. He had to be realistic.
He needed to show her. Time was running out.
In more ways than one.
Rafe had seen Patrick leaving Rosa’s room the previous night. If a child wasn’t on the way, one would be soon.
His hands shook as he put away the documents on the desk. Damn, he needed a drink.
No. What he really needed was the courage to take the blow of whatever reaction she showed. For a man that had seen and faced what he had, it galled him to be cowed by a tiny woman that professed to love him. What the hell was wrong with him?
Tarin and her father would be there later that night for supper. Perhaps, if he got himself foxed, he could muster up the nerve to take her to a secluded room and just show her.
He blew out a deep breath. Hell, he would never be ready.
If she didn’t know better, Tarin would think her fiancée avoided her. She and her father had arrived nearly a half hour ago and Rafe still had not made an appearance.
She smiled at Beau across the parlor as she smoothed the front of her mustard-yellow gown. Now that she thought about it, Rafe had been rather quiet yesterday when she stopped by to thank him for his part in the college approval. While he did welcome her kisses, he offered no arrogant remarks or sweet endearments. His touch at her back had been hesitant, his smile scarce.
Was he having second thoughts?
“You have a look that is troubled.”
Tarin started. Rosa stood in front of her, a hesitant smile on her face. So caught up in her musings, Tarin had not seen her approach. The day before, they had shared a long discussion on the prerequisites of the college and Rosa’s instruction in the English language. Tarin had grown so excited about the prospect of a new midwife recruit, she had found herself volunteering to help Patrick tutor.
Who would have ever thought she would befriend a woman that once loved her fiancée?
“I am wondering if Rafe’s delay is yet another hot bath.” Tarin returned the smile.
Rosa’s delicate laughter caused Patrick to look their way. Rosa practically glowed today, her beige skin luminous and flawless.
Leaning in, her voice was conspiratorial. “I understand he indulges often. Perhaps, you need to go upstairs and pull him from the tub.”
Or join him. A thrill shot through her. She could not wait until they shared the marriage bed. After reading Dr. Longfellow’s book, she was eager to show Rafe what she had learned. She did not believe it would be a painful and tedious experience as she had overheard during many afternoon teas. What she and Rafe had shared so far had pleased and pleasured her far beyond her imagination. Why would she think the ultimate experience would be nothing short of ecstasy?
“Perhaps, I will see what is keep
ing him...” She eyed the parlor door.
“I will say you went to... how you say... freshen up.” Rosa winked at her.
Rosa sounded a lot like Kit. Tarin clutched her arm briefly to whisper close. “Thank you. I will return shortly - hopefully with Rafe in tow.”
Rosa’s brows shot into the hair fanning her forehead. “Perhaps not. You may find yourself occupied for a time.” She grinned slyly.
Making up her mind, Tarin rushed from the room before someone stopped her.
Her steps slowed when she reached the stairs. It was most improper to enter a man’s bedroom, she told herself, as she took the steps one at a time. Yet, he would be her husband in two days - did it matter at this point? If Rafe had taught her anything, it was to take chances.
Stopping in front of his door, she raised her hand to knock, then thought better of it. She didn’t want to give him the option of discouraging her intentions. Opening it slowly, she peeked her head around the door.
He was nowhere in sight. She frowned. Stepping inside, she shut the door quietly and stood aside. Her heart pounded so loud, she was sure he could hear her.
Nothing happened.
Suddenly, rustling came from the next room. He must be in the closet. Tiptoeing across the floor, she smiled as she wondered whether to spook him or announce herself grandly.
He popped out of the closet completely nude, stopping Tarin in her tracks. She caught her breath. He hadn’t seen her yet.
But she saw him. All of him. His body, while taut, muscular and finely formed, was a mishmash of mutilation and deformity. Raised and puckered scars of red, purple and white covered his torso like quilt patches. Some marks appeared smooth from burns, others stretched tight across his chest and back. His side appeared slightly concave, as though part of his insides had been carved from his bones. Her heart stopped. Heaven above, he had been tortured.
“Rafe!”
His head snapped up. His eyes bulged out of his head. He gritted his teeth, his face a red mask of shock and anger.
“Get out!” His voice shook with rage.
“What?”
He stomped towards her. Anger radiated from his body like a furnace. She backed away, matching him step for step.
