Breaking the Rake's Rules

by Bronwyn Scott

  ‘Nothing happened. I’m perfectly fine, not a scratch to show.’

  But the distance between ‘not a scratch to show’ and being blown to smithereens, or having her throat slit, was a matter of mere inches, the matter of luck changing in a heartbeat. If he’d tackled her a second later, if the Jamaican captain had singled her out instead of Passemore, if the captain had not turned his back, if a hundred other variables had gone awry, the day could have ended very differently. Only a fool would pretend otherwise.

  He said as much out loud, but Bryn merely turned in his arms, to see him face-to-face, her body pressed to his. ‘I’m no fool, Kitt. I know just how close it was today.’

  The quiet intensity of her voice was nearly his undoing. He enfolded her in his arms. What had he been thinking to let her come? He should have sailed straight back to Bridgetown the moment she’d tumbled out of his wardrobe. But he knew what he’d been thinking. He’d wanted her too much and he’d known he could have her, at least for a little while. He’d been selfish and in his selfishness he’d risked her.

  He should tell her, say the words, but he found the only words that would come was a litany of ‘I’m sorrys’. He was sorry for things he couldn’t begin to tell her. He was sorry for exposing her to danger, for exposing her to his life, sorry that he couldn’t change it. Most of all he was sorry that the world of Kitt Sherard had no place in it for a woman like Bryn Rutherford, a decision that was made long before he met her.

  Bryn pushed back a bit to take his face between her hands. ‘You saved us all today. There’s nothing to be sorry for.’ Then she slipped beneath the warm cocoon of their blankets and burrowed to the bottom, her hands announcing their presence on his calves. Her lips followed them up, past his knees, to his thighs, until there was only one place left for them to go. Kitt’s breath caught in anticipation of what she meant to do.

  Her hand came first, running the length of him, preparing him, until he felt himself come exquisitely to life beneath her fingers. Then came her mouth, her sweet delectable mouth. Her tongue stroked his tender head with quick, teasing flicks across his slit. Kitt could feel himself bead for her. He closed his eyes, letting the pleasure sweep him away, letting it drown out the impossible wanting, the guilt of his selfishness. He could have this moment, this gift. She ran her tongue the length of his under-ridge and he moaned; she mouthed him, sucking hard until he sobbed with the ecstasy of it, rocked with the ecstasy of it until the blankets had fallen away, revealing Bryn in all her beauty between his legs, each stroke sending him closer to the edge of his release.

  Kitt arched, barely able to articulate a strangled caution to Bryn, but she was ready. She caught him in her hand, holding him as he spent, his phallus pulsing, throbbing with its climax. The moment was as intimate as they came. He’d never been held through it, never seen a woman watch him come with awe riveting her face. He wanted to remember her this way for all time. How had she known this was exactly what he needed? She’d given him acceptance to simply be himself.

  She would try and change him. Bryn wondered—would he understand that’s why she’d done it? Beside her, Kitt’s breathing was slow and even. ‘Happy?’ She ventured the brave word in the dark. She snuggled against him, her head finding his chest as surely as his arm wrapped about her, drawing her close.

  ‘Content.’ Kitt sighed as if to emphasise his point.

  ‘I’m...content, too,’ Bryn echoed. She would rather be happy, but content was a more realistic word. Content implied she was satisfied with what she had, while understanding it was all she could have even if she wanted more. Kitt pressed a kiss in her hair. It made her bold or perhaps the tender gesture made her desperate. ‘What happens when we get back to Bridgetown?’

  Difficult words, but they had to be spoken. They’d pretended they both knew what would happen, they’d even pretended they were satisfied with that. Well, at least she had and she suspected he’d pretended to be satisfied, too. The man who’d made love to her tonight would never truly be satisfied with such an understanding any more than she. How much longer would they go on denying the truth? If they didn’t address it now, it would be too late.

  ‘You know what happens, Bryn. This is over. It has to be.’

  ‘Is that what you want?’ Bryn asked softly, trying to ignore the slow pain growing in her heart.

  ‘It’s what has to be. Today should have shown you how impossible it is for it to be otherwise. We were lucky. We won’t always be lucky. And, yes, these sorts of situations will happen again and again just like the day I met you.’

  ‘The assassins chasing you into the garden?’ She forced a laugh, trying to find a way to argue against his decision. Surely he wasn’t climbing balconies every day.

  ‘Even before that.’ Kitt sighed in the darkness. ‘That day, we had a rum drop-off to complete. It was supposed to be simple, but it was a trap designed to ambush us. The man who warned me about the assassins died in my arms. Now it seems we have another layer. The captain in my hold was kind enough to inform me that Hugh Devore is the mastermind behind the Sunwood swindle. Apparently, while he’s not out ambushing my rum sales, he’s coaxing wealthy gentlemen into investing in a plantation that doesn’t exist.’

  An ambush over a typical trade, a dead man’s warning, being chased by assassins and climbing a stranger’s balcony. All in a day’s work, quite possibly all in every day’s work. She would never know what he would be facing when he went out. What was worse? Knowing or guessing? Today’s reality had been fairly frightening. ‘You’re trying to scare me off,’ Bryn said quietly.

  ‘Is it working?’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t understand, Kitt, it’s that I want to try anyway.’ She was out on the very furthest limb of her tree of confidence now. It was a thin one, it might snap at any time and send her plummeting. Don’t betray me, Kitt. It took everything to say those words. She was not a weak woman, but she felt vulnerable just now.

  ‘You do me a great honour, Bryn.’ His answer was neither refusal nor acceptance, but something in between and it would have to be good enough.

  * * *

  The rain had stopped in the night, leaving behind a brisk breeze that blew them steadily and quickly towards Bridgetown. At the rail, her hat once more firmly on her head, Bryn watched the port loom ever closer in the afternoon sun with growing trepidation. Had anyone missed her? She’d told the servants she was going to stay with a new friend. It hadn’t been a lie, only she’d been gone longer than she’d planned. The servants would know she’d packed to be gone a day or two. Instead, she’d been gone five, nearly six. Was that all? It felt as if a lifetime had passed. Still, all should be fine. Her father was not scheduled to be back until tomorrow.

  ‘We’ll drop anchor here.’ Kitt materialised at her elbow, breaking into her thoughts. ‘I’ll row you in, unless you’d prefer Passemore or O’Reilly?’ He was letting her decide where it ended. They’d not talked of ‘it’ since the prior night. She’d spent her bravery the night before. If he was going to leave it up to her, she’d hang on to him as long as she could.

  ‘I’d prefer you if you have the time.’

  ‘Are you nervous?’ Kitt leaned beside her on the rail, his blue eyes on hers, the gesture feeling personal and sincere. How many times had they met on this spot on the rail since leaving port? She would miss this. He’d become friend and lover combined into one. It would be difficult to go back to being less.

  ‘I’m thinking how disappointed my father will be to hear about the island.’ He would be disappointed. It was a severe blow, but it was also a lie. She hadn’t solely been thinking of her father’s reaction although she probably should be. Back to Bridgetown meant back to business, back to being the banker’s daughter. Her father needed her.

  * * *

  Kitt did more than row her in. He carried her valise and he walked her the distance from the do
cks to the house at the end of Bay Street. But he said nothing, their walk accomplished in abject silence. Bryn reasoned it was better for him to be silent than to say things he didn’t mean or make half-promises he had no intention of keeping. It would hurt more if he lied to her. In truth, it was hard to imagine it hurting more than it did. She was hurting pretty badly right now, as if something was being ripped from her.

  She’d thought she’d be safe this time. Kitt wouldn’t betray her and he hadn’t. He hadn’t used her, hadn’t seen her as a means for personal gain, he hadn’t needed anything from her. He’d given her gifts beyond compare, experiences that exceeded her dreams. Because of all that, it wasn’t supposed to hurt, there wasn’t a reason for it to. Since when did love need a reason? Admit it, you fell for him. All the promises you made yourself about adventure and happy ever afters being momentary could not protect you.

  They reached the gate separating the house grounds from the street. He swung it open for her and handed her the valise. ‘I’ll call on your father in a couple of days when he returns and talk with him about the island. I’ll see what we can salvage. But then I’ll go back out again. It’s important we find Devore.’

  Devore—oh, yes, the grand villain in all this. Bryn dragged her mind back to practical matters. For a moment she’d forgotten about that island, the missing one, the one they’d set out to find. Instead, her heart had leaped, thinking it saw a flicker of hope. She’d been thinking about a different island, about salvaging something else, an entirely different reason to talk to her father.

  Kitt began to speak, but the front door suddenly opened with some force. Bryn froze, her mind going blank except for one thought: her father was home, James Selby with him. She’d known there was going to be hell to pay, but she’d hoped for a little time, a reprieve in which to marshal her resources, to think through her explanations. Apparently the devil was keen to collect his due.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Thank goodness you’re all right!’ Her father hugged her tight. His warm welcome was more than she deserved. ‘When you didn’t come home as expected, Sneed sent for me. We had no idea where you’d gone.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Bryn pasted on a smile, guilt surging at the worry she’d caused. He’d cut short his business trip because of her. He had every justification to be furious. He could have shouted at her, could have berated her, could do far worse than that and yet he’d hugged her, his concern for her safety overriding all the other implications of her absence.

  Her father’s grip on her loosened and she could feel his attention shifting over her shoulder to Kitt. ‘Thank you for seeing her home, for watching over her. Please, come join us on the veranda for a glass of falernum.’

  It was masterfully done. Her father had set in motion the script by which he wanted her homecoming recorded for the public, for the servants, for James Selby. He was saving face for her, standing between her and disaster. He was saving face for Kitt, too, treating him as a trusted business acquaintance for all to see.

  Beside her father, Bryn could see Selby visibly stiffen, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on Kitt. Selby didn’t believe the fiction, but he’d go along with it to curry favour with her father. There was nothing he could take issue with at the moment. ‘Bryn darling, why don’t you rest, have a bath brought up if you’d like.’ Her father attempted to gently dismiss her. After all he’d done, she didn’t want to defy his authority, but she would not leave the aftermath of this homecoming to a protective father, a jealous suitor, and a man who’d faced down pirates in a storm, not when that aftermath was about her.

  She looped an arm through her father’s. ‘I will last a little longer.’ She shot a look at Kitt. ‘We have news that you both need to hear and I’d like to be there for it.’

  Selby bristled and she realised too late the connotation he’d put on her words. Bryn rushed on hastily. ‘It’s about the Sunwood investment.’ She wasn’t about to blurt out the island didn’t exist on the front lawn.

  Hearing it over falernum wasn’t much better, but at least it was private and it certainly served to distract everyone from the unanswered question of what she’d been doing with Kitt for five unchaperoned days. Of course, she’d rather have had a more pleasant distraction for them. Selby turned a startling shade of white and her father went very still as Kitt laid out the findings.

  ‘I sailed out to the co-ordinates Selby gave Bryn.’ Kitt gave Selby a sharp look. If Selby had lied, now would be the time to come clean. For her father’s sake, Bryn almost hoped that would be the case, although it would certainly damage Selby’s reputation. But Selby said nothing. ‘I even thought I may have written them down in reverse,’ Kitt added charitably, more face saving, this time for Selby. It was generous of him given that he owed Selby nothing and Selby was looking daggers at him.

  ‘I sailed out to the other set of co-ordinates as well although they seemed too far out to be believable. But I wasn’t ready to give up. The map did show a set of islands in that direction and there were islands there, just not developed islands.’ Kitt paused and looked directly at her father. ‘I thought you’d want to know right away.’ He would not apologise for being the bearer of bad news. ‘I am sure you understand this could mean trouble for the bank if it got out you and Selby had been taken advantage of.’

  Her father nodded slowly, his shoulders, which had borne so much, starting to slump. Bryn’s heart broke for him. They’d been so close to the fresh start he’d coveted, the bank nearly operational, the charter fulfilled, only to have it all poised on the brink of ruin.

  ‘No one has to know,’ Selby said quickly. ‘We’ll simply stop investing and that will be the end of it.’ That was how Selby’s rather facile mind worked. Everything was black and white, but Bryn saw the grey space. They couldn’t simply walk away from this.

  ‘We know who is behind this. I have the name,’ Kitt said tersely, trying to avoid direct disagreement with Selby. ‘We have to go after him. We are ethically obliged.’

  Selby glared. ‘You dare much to speak of ethical obligations after spending five days alone with a woman of good reputation.’

  Bryn winced and took a hasty sip of falernum. Her father shot her a look. ‘Were you with him? Is that where you went?’

  ‘Yes.’ She would not lie. She fixed Selby with a hard stare, daring him to defy her. ‘You do yourself little credit by painting with a sordid brush.’ That was the difference between them. Selby was interested in self-protection, but she was interested in protecting others. She would not make Kitt pay for her bold plan.

  She turned back to her father. ‘Captain Sherard did not invite me. When I learned he was going out to see the island, I hid aboard the ship. I did not make my presence known until he was at sea and could not turn back.’ The explanation seemed to placate him, but her father was an astute man. There would be more questions in private.

  ‘I was glad I risked it,’ Bryn continued staunchly, avoiding Kitt’s eyes. ‘Now you have two witnesses to the fact that the island doesn’t exist, just in case there is any challenge to Captain Sherard’s word.’

  ‘I would not expose your presence needlessly,’ Selby put in hastily. ‘Sherard’s word is enough for me.’ He was quick to grovel after his misstep.

  ‘As it should be,’ her father spoke sharply. ‘As the primary investors for the bank, we all rise and fall together. Dissension in our ranks cannot be tolerated. Anyone who cannot accept that is welcome to leave our association.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Selby affirmed. Bryn saw the faintest signs of a smile twitch on Kitt’s lips. This was the victory she’d angled for with the announcement she’d share with all and sundry she’d been aboard the ship. She’d forced Selby to have to publicly acknowledge Kitt’s word and accept his verdict. It was a secondary triumph to have removed herself from needing to make that testimony.

  ‘So do
we go after the villains?’ Kitt circled the conversation back around to the point at which Selby had derailed it. ‘I can have my ship ready and at your disposal the day after tomorrow.’ He could have an official mandate for this next voyage.

  ‘I think we must. I will assemble the board of directors tomorrow and explain the situation to them.’ Her father blew out a breath, a man dreading but prepared to take responsibility for his errors. Her father had never shied away from his duty. He would not shirk it now.

  Kitt leaned forward and spoke in earnest. ‘Definitely assemble them, but do not play the martyr. Tell them you and Selby had made the investment as a trial in the hopes that if it was successful the bank could choose to be involved later. Tell them we’ve since learned it’s a land swindle and we are setting out to bring the criminals to justice.’

  Her father’s face began to brighten. ‘Yes, that could do the trick. There are no lies there. Your own involvement proves that. James and I truly had hoped to bring Sunwood to the investors’ attention. We will look proactive in our response and in the immediacy of it. Thanks to you, Captain, we learned of the fraud right away before more than initial money was sunk into it.’

  Bryn felt some of the knots in her stomach loosen. Kitt had managed the situation in a way that would not only save face for her father, but for the bank. Her father would look like a hero. The venture would be saved. She wanted to throw her arms about Kitt, wanted to thank him, but there was no chance. The men stood up and shook hands. Kitt barely looked at her, giving her the briefest, remotest of polite farewells. He might as well have been taking his leave of any hostess.

  Selby gave every impression, however, of wanting to linger. Her father diplomatically disabused him of the notion with a firm hand on his shoulder. ‘James, I am counting on you to call the meeting. Invite everyone for eleven o’clock tomorrow.’ It was his congé. James smiled politely, his shoulders squaring with the importance of the task.