The Rake to Ruin Her

by Julia Justiss

  She nodded. ‘As we would wish to safeguard our beloved land.’

  ‘Exactly. At any rate, unlike most of the females present, Madame preferred not to call attention to herself. At the many social events, she kept apart, observing rather than participating. It was that aloofness, as much as her beauty, that first caught my eye and, on a whim, I asked her to dance. Impressed by the keenness of her observations, I sought her out at other functions and we struck up a friendship. Unlike nearly every other woman I’d been associated with—until you—she demanded very little from me.’

  Caro made a rueful grimace. ‘No, I only demanded that you marry me.’

  A demand to which he was daily becoming more reconciled, he thought, smiling at her. ‘Like you, she never sought compliments or presents or commanded my slavish attention. Quite the contrary—she always appreciated even the most trifling assistance. I soon noticed, however, that she often had bruises on her wrists, sometimes even on her face. When she finally admitted her cousin abused her, I was outraged, but there was nothing I could do about it; despite the rumours later, she was never my mistress, nor had I any legal pretext to intervene on her behalf. Frustrated that I could not improve her circumstances, I did what little I could. She never asked more of me.’

  Max laughed bitterly. ‘Or so I thought. In the months since Vienna, I’ve gone over every action and conversation. I truly cannot recall her ever expressing any political opinions. Perhaps she was no more than an unwilling pawn, forced by her cousin’s threats of violence to participate in the plot. But the plan worked masterfully; in using her as bait, someone must have known I might resist seduction, but I would never refuse to assist a lady in distress.’

  He sighed, gazing sightlessly into the distance as he continued, ‘The night of the incident, she sent an urgent note summoning me from the room where I waited to accompany Lord Wellington to an important meeting. After asking my help on a small matter, she deliberately delayed my return; meanwhile, a hired gunman burst into the room where Wellington awaited me and fired at him. Thank the Lord, he escaped unharmed. Madame Lefevre and her cousin disappeared from Vienna that same night.’

  ‘I’ve combed my memory, trying to find some sign, some indication I’d missed, that a plot was afoot...’ He shook his head. ‘I just don’t recall any. But if I had not allowed myself to be lured into assisting her, the conspirators could not have found such an ideal opportunity to attack England’s most skilful general.’

  ‘You can’t know that for sure,’ Caro objected. ‘Had that opportunity not occurred, Wellington’s enemies would have searched out others. No one of sense could fault you for responding with chivalry and compassion to what appeared to be a lady’s unfortunate circumstances! Did the authorities not pursue Madame and her cousin?’

  ‘I’m not sure. My relationship with her was well known enough that I was...detained that same night, while an inquiry was launched into my involvement. Otherwise, I would have set off to look for her immediately.’

  She must have noticed the constraint in his voice. ‘You were...confined?’ she asked.

  He grimaced. ‘Not in prison. Just transferred to rooms far from Lord Wellington’s and forced to remain there. Under guard. Watched over,’ he added, feeling his face flush at the words, ‘by soldiers of the unit I’d lately led in battle.’

  ‘How awful for you,’ Caro said softly, compassion in her eyes. ‘But surely no one believed you would have had anything to do with an attack on your commander!’

  ‘Before any official determination could be made, Napoleon escaped from Elba. The Congress quickly adjourned and the principals scurried home to their respective capitals. Then came Waterloo and here we are now.’

  ‘Is there nothing else you can do to finally clear your name?’

  ‘The Foreign Office implied that, with the whole matter having been overcome by events, it wasn’t worth attempting. However, Colonel Brandon, my former commander who’s now searching for a new post for me, believes that if I could locate Madame Lefevre and obtain testimony corroborating my behaviour during the affair, it would be quite helpful.’

  ‘Then you must go to Vienna,’ Caro said. ‘Surely the truth will absolve you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, glad to have had his intuition confirmed. Somehow, he’d known she would believe in him and urge him to seek vindication. ‘I’m inclined to go to Vienna after leaving Denby, while Colonel Brandon explores his connections. Though I’m not certain, even if I can find Madame and compel her to testify, that it will change my father’s opinion.’

  ‘Oh, Max, I’m so sorry,’ she said, reaching over to run a finger down his cheek.

  He caught her hand and held it there, thrilling to her touch.

  ‘The earl may be a great man in the affairs of the nation,’ she continued, ‘but he isn’t half the father Sir Martin, simple country squire, was to me. Though I shall try to keep my disapproval to myself when I meet your father again, I cannot help feeling he is a selfish, foolish man to carelessly throw away his son’s affection.’

  Once again, the idea of Caro Denby utterly unimpressed with the man whose voice still rang in the halls of Parliament and whose approval was sought by most of his peers made Max smile. ‘You did make your opinion rather clear at the wedding. I was quaking in my boots, waiting for him to deliver one of his famous set-downs. As one who’s received quite a few, I assure you, he can deliver a jobation that will rattle the teeth in your head.’

  Caroline merely sniffed. ‘He could try. I shouldn’t have chastised him, I know. Since I certainly don’t wish to make matters worse between you, I shall attempt to be more conciliating in future.’

  ‘My sweet defender,’ he murmured, squeezing her fingers.

  ‘Your defender, yes. You have me, too, now, you know.’

  Max felt an odd little pang in his chest at that avowal. She would stand by him, care about him, support him...as none but his fellow Rogues ever had.

  It seemed that she didn’t find him valuable only as Max-the-earl’s-son or Max-the-rising-diplomat or even Max-the-soldier. Simply being Max was enough. A strong surge of tenderness and gratitude tightened his chest.

  Uncomfortable with the intensity of the emotion, he pushed it away and turned his mind instead to enticing sensual connotation of her words.

  Oh, how he wanted to have her! Under his intense gaze, she blushed and looked away, telling him she’d just realised the double meaning of her words. But in this instance, her protective assumptions about the countryside were correct; he could hardly seduce her with the shades of her parents looking on.

  At that moment, a sudden gust of wind nearly sailed the hat off his head and a large cold drop of rain lashed his cheek.

  ‘The weather is looking to turn,’ he said, gazing up at the scudding dark clouds. ‘We’d better head back.’

  ‘Thank you for coming with me. I knew I must return some time, but I’d been dreading it. Having you here made it...better. Not so lonely.’

  To his surprise, he realised that for much of his life, despite the accolades of the sycophants and admirers who’d always wanted something from him, except when in the company of the Rogues, he’d been lonely, too. Until now.

  ‘I’m glad,’ he said and led her back to the horses.

  * * *

  He had returned to the house, while, despite the rain that began to fall steadily, Caro headed back to the paddock to work, telling him she’d see him at dinner. Max wandered to the library, thinking to choose a book. Instead, he found himself staring out of the window, thinking about Caro.

  He recalled their conversation at the graveyard today. He’d never shared with anyone the conflicting feelings he felt for his father. He’d never before realised how alone he’d often felt in the midst of his own family. Perhaps it was because being with Caro felt so different. Where she was, he felt a sense of warmth, affection and serenity, as if he...belonged.

  A stab of unease rose at that conclusion. It would be vast
ly deflating for Magnificent Max to fall in love with a female who, thus far, gave little evidence that his hopes of fascinating her would ever be realised.

  Maybe he ought to give up both that and his attempts at seduction—for the present, at least—and head to Vienna. The longer he waited, the less likely he’d find any trace of Madame Lefevre.

  * * *

  He’d not yet decided what he meant to do when Caro burst into the library, excitement shining in her dark eyes. ‘I’ve just received a letter from Mr Wentworth! It seems the breeder in Italy to whom Papa wrote long ago, hoping to obtain another of his excellent Arabians, actually received his offer! Even better, he accepted Papa’s terms.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news,’ Max said, pleased for her. She’d just been telling him of her father’s plans to introduce new Arabians into the stud’s bloodlines. ‘How soon will you be able to get the horse?’

  ‘Almost immediately, it turns out. Signor Aliante had to wait for cessation of hostilities on the Continent to transport the animal, but, Mr Wentworth writes, the stallion has just arrived in London. Mr Wentworth is having him sent down to Denby; he should arrive in a few days. Papa would be so proud! This is the first step toward achieving everything he wanted the stud to become!’

  Max smiled, charmed by her enthusiasm and the look of pure happiness on her face. ‘We should celebrate, then.’

  ‘We should! I’ll have Manners see if there is any champagne in the cellar.’

  Max stepped over to give her a hug, but she waved him off. ‘Don’t; I’m all over mud. I shall see you soon at dinner!’

  * * *

  When they met later in the dining room, the vision Caro presented was worthy of celebration. Her auburn hair was arranged in a delightful tumble of curls and the flattering gown she wore showed her magnificent bosom to full advantage.

  She was unusually animated throughout dinner, plying him with questions about the army, everyday life on campaign and his impressions of Spain and Portugal. Normally as soon as they finished eating, she left the table, giving him a hurried excuse for a kiss before going—alas, alone—to bed so she might rise at dawn to begin her workday in the stables.

  But this night, she stayed at the table, as if as reluctant as he to end the splendid camaraderie of the evening. She laughed as he told her about the night of pouring rain when he’d bivouacked in a Portuguese stable, wrapped up in his cloak on a thick layer of hay. And been awakened repeatedly through the night by the cows attempting to eat his mattress.

  Eyes glowing, she touched his hand, let her fingers linger on his arm. She seemed more relaxed—and less guarded—than at any time since the kiss on their wedding night. All his instincts telling him capitulation was near, Max exerted himself to be at his most charming, teasing her, trying everything he knew to beguile and entice her.

  Finally, noticing the long-suffering look on the face of the footmen standing at his post by the sideboard, Max said, ‘Shall we withdraw and let Joseph clear the table?’

  Caro glanced at the mantel clock and straightened with a start. ‘Heavens, it’s much later than I realised! Excuse me, Joseph, for keeping you well past the time you should be putting your feet up.’

  ‘Thank you, mistress,’ the footman responded. ‘Shall I have Mr Manners bring the tea tray to the study?’

  ‘No, it’s too late for tea. Tell the kitchen staff to bank the fires and go to bed.’

  As the footman bowed himself out, Max claimed the decanter and led her to the study. ‘Shall we finish the last of the wine? It will help you sleep.’

  ‘It’s been such a marvellous day!’ With a slow grin as she sank on to the sofa, she gave him a naughty look that sent heat all the way down to his toes. ‘Maybe I don’t want to sleep.’

  Max tried to tell himself not to read too much into that statement. But a wild hope blazed through him, like lightning in advance of a storm.

  Seating himself close beside her, breathing in her enticing scent, a sharp desire filled him to bend down and cover with kisses that delectable swathe of bare skin from her throat to the tops of her breasts. He ought to put up his glass and take himself off to bed before he lost control and broke his promise, but he couldn’t bring himself to end this enchanted spell of an evening.

  ‘We should go to bed now, I suppose,’ Caro said as she drained her glass. From beneath her lashes, she gave him a look that was part enticement, part hesitation.

  Beguiled by her loveliness, hard and nearly mad with repressed desire, Max found it increasingly difficult to hear the little voice urging caution. ‘Let me escort you up.’

  His heart leapt and his member stiffened further when she replied, ‘That would be...lovely.’

  She offered her arm. Trying to restrain the excitement racing through him, he took it and walked her out, thinking she must surely be able to hear the thundering beat of his heart.

  A few moments later, they reached her room. After he opened the door and walked her inside, his heart seemed to stop altogether.

  Would she invite him to stay...or bid him goodnight?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Standing inside her bedchamber door, Caro smiled back at Max. It had been an excellent day, the best she could remember since Papa’s death.

  She had all the horses for this year’s sale, including the gelding she’d been working today, nearly ready. With Max’s steady presence beside her, she’d finally had the courage to visit the graveyard and acknowledge that Papa was truly gone. She’d never stop grieving for him, but today, she’d finally allowed herself to lay him to rest.

  Best of all, the Arabian stallion, the animal her father had considered the key to bringing the stud’s bloodstock to a new level of quality, would be arriving any day.

  Max had been the perfect companion, seeming to understand how much the achievement of Papa’s goals meant to her. In truth, he’d encouraged her almost since their first meeting to talk about her horses and her plans for stud. And he’d even finally told her something of his own life, his difficulties with his father, his hopes of clearing his name.

  Tonight, she would put out of mind the truth that the partnership that buoyed her today could only be temporary, for Max must soon leave, either to Vienna, or back to his life in London.

  ‘Thank you for a wonderful day. A wonderful evening.’

  ‘I’m so glad you’ll soon begin realising your father’s dream, Caro.’

  Wishing she dared ask him to stay, she waited for him to bid her goodnight. Instead, his intent gaze locked on her face, he lingered.

  She wanted him to linger. To admit the truth, she burned for another kiss like the one they’d shared on their wedding night.

  There would be very few more nights when he would be near enough to kiss. If she were careful, maybe she could chance allowing herself something more intimate than the quick peck on the cheek that had been all she’d dared offer him since they returned to Denby.

  Her heart commencing to beat a rapid tattoo against her ribs, she said, ‘Won’t you kiss me goodnight before you go?’

  ‘With pleasure, my lovely wife,’ he said, his deep voice sending a thrill of anticipation through her.

  The kiss was delightful—a long, unhurried brush of his lips against hers, ending with a sweep of his tongue across their sensitive surface.

  Excitement shot to every nerve, tingling in her nipples, pulsing between her thighs. Without quite intending to, she found herself kissing him back, deepening the pressure of her lips on his. She wasn’t sure whether she opened to him or he to her, but suddenly their tongues were tangling, twining, licking, sucking.

  She pulled his head down, wrapped her arms around him, plumbed his mouth with her tongue until she was breathless and dizzy. Until her breasts felt swollen and aching for his touch. As she arched her neck, he trailed tiny kisses from her mouth over her chin, down her neck, to the top of her low-cut bodice, then licked the skin beneath the gown’s edge.

  Suddenly, more than she’d ever wanted
anything, she wanted to have the gown and stays removed and feel his mouth against her bared skin.

  Papa was gone; she’d never get him back. But the man who’d helped her accept that loss was vital and alive beside her. Before he left her, too, fiercely grateful and pulsing with need, she simply must have a touch and taste of him.

  Ignoring the little voice shouting of danger, she caught his chin and tipped it up to face her.

  ‘I want you to unlace me.’

  ‘Whatever my lady wishes,’ he replied, the hard glitter of desire in his eyes making her pulse leap.

  Don’t think, he’d told her on their wedding night. Do what you feel.

  Insistent, driven, shutting her mind to everything but the sensations he aroused in her, she directed his hands to the tapes of her gown, the ribbons of her stays. Kissing him still, she let him loosen and pull them away, then guided his head down to her bared breasts.

  She cried out at the first touch of his tongue on their sensitive surface, marvellous, exquisite, beyond anything she could have imagined. She threw her head back, gasping, as with fingers and tongue, he explored each breast, from the plump fullness beneath around to the top and finally, thrillingly, suckling the hardened nipples.

  Heat and need consumed her. She pulled at his shirt, clawing at the cravat as he unwound it and tossed it aside. Jerking the shirt open, she slid her hands inside, her fingers seeking his nipples as his mouth laved, caressed and pleasured hers.

  Emboldened by an urgent imperative that would not be denied, she slid her hands down his chest to his trouser flap and plucked open the straining buttons. His manhood sprang forth and she filled her hands with it, wrenching a cry from him.

  While he suckled her, gasping, she fingered his length, from the hot, velvety tip to the coarse sacs beneath. Without realising how she’d got there, she felt the edge of the bed behind her. Her wobbly knees gave way and she sank back upon it.