by Julia Donner
Cassandra gasped. “Tessa!”
“Why do you think the gentlemen hang on her every word? Because of her disposition? That girl will be shipped off to visit relatives before long. She ain’t showin’ now, but give her a month, and she won’t be able to hide it. I think the Eligibles are downy enough to know she’s safe to plow, if you take my meaning.”
Cassandra gaped, too shocked to comment, while Tessa selected a clean handkerchief from the linen drawer and tucked it in Cassandra’s hand. “Get your bonnet. You could do with some cleansing air after that bit of dirty news, and I’ve got work to do.”
“Are you dismissing me, Tessa?”
“I am. Here, wear this bonnet instead. It has a broader brim.”
“What would I want with that horrid thing?”
Tessa stamped a foot. “For the freckles!”
“What freckles! I haven’t any freckles, and if I want to I’ll walk stark naked in the afternoon sun, I’ll do so without your consent, Tessart.”
Cassandra started for the door. She paused to peer over her shoulder. “Tessa, you don’t think Ravenswold would have—”
“Boffed the local beauty? I doubt it. Not his style. He’d not mess around in his own pen. He would more likely go farther afield.”
Cassandra’s hackles went up. “He would not! And what sort of way is that to talk. Boff the local beauty, indeed!”
Tessa shook her head. “First you’re squealing about freckles that ain’t even there, and then getting’ uppity when I tell you the truth. You’d better let his lordship have his way and get it out of your system. A body can bear up for only so long.”
“My sentiments exactly!” She punctuated that opinion by slamming the door on her way out.
***
Rave returned from a hasty visit to a nearby bishop after luncheon. He dismissed his secretary when he found it impossible to concentrate. After an hour, he gave up and went after what he wanted. He finally ran Cassandra to earth in the library.
She had climbed a ladder to reach a book on the highest shelf. He stopped in the doorway and watched as she carefully descended with the book trapped under one arm, which freed her hand to hold up the hem of her green-sprigged muslin walking dress. Her other hand gripped the ladder as her right foot, charmingly encased in a yellow roman sandal tied with green strings, searched for and found the next lower rung. Secured with a wide, purple ribbon, the long tail of her copper hair hung down the line of her spine, ending in a curl between her hips. She looked young and vulnerable, not at all like herself. Or like someone who’d met a man on the sly that very morning. Time to push her into telling me the rest of her secrets, he thought, girding himself for battle.
When she reached the floor, she looked startled and unsure when she discovered him watching. Seeing her tiny frown, he wondered if she ever compared him to someone else or to the man who commanded her loyalty and secrecy. She never admitted involvement with a man, but he felt sure of it. She would’ve told him everything long ago if the secret had to do with a woman. Her sideways glance at the only exit from the library suggested a guilty need to escape. Perhaps from his company?
Pain seared a slow path through his heart. He recognized jealousy for what it was and knew how destructive it could be. Identifying his problem didn’t stop the hurt. He’d been found wanting—not as good or as handsome or as witty as the paragon she protected at the risk of her engagement and reputation.
He firmed his resolve when he noted her nervousness in his presence—confirmed by the flash of doubt in her widened eyes and the stiffening of her body preparing for flight. Her fingertips were blanched where they pressed into the book’s binding. Nervousness might be helpful for what he aimed to accomplish. He could no longer tolerate not knowing the truth and knew how to get it out of her now—make her angry.
When he started to speak, she dropped the book onto a table and bolted for the door he’d left partially open. She reached for the handle, and his arm shot out, slamming the door shut.
Startled, Cassandra gripped her skirts and warned herself to think carefully before acting or saying anything. She’ d assumed Ravenswold would be occupied for the rest of the day, and decided to avoid him in case he wasn’t, by taking a book outside to read. She selected one about housekeeping, thinking she might as well improve her mind if she had to be a countess. She hoped not to see Ravenswold until after her meeting with Arthur. She didn’t think she possessed the wherewithal to continue to dissemble in front of him. He saw too much and she still felt awkward in his presence.
She’d never sought a man’s good opinion or admiration. Arthur had given her this before she knew him. The reason she trusted Arthur so completely was because he accepted her as she was without reservation. His unconditional love assured her that she need never pretend or change. She only had to be herself. She wished Ravenswold could love and trust her as Arthur did, which reminded her that she would see Arthur soon. The need to hide the rendezvous from Ravenswold obliterated her elation.
She stared at his hand splayed across the painted wood. His fingers were lean, strong and well-tended, except for the occasional smudge of ink. Her eyes slowly traveled the long, straight length of an arm encased in bottle-green superfine. She finally reached his eyes and fought the weakness seeping through her legs. She still felt surprised to find herself looking up at anyone. She forced herself not to back away when she connected with the suspicion in his mocking gaze.
“Well met, my love. Why the haste? One might think that you don’t care for my company.”
Unnerved and unprepared, she began to mumble an excuse, but he cut her off. “Cards on the table, Cass. What are the rules for this new game you’re playing?”
Cassandra blinked up at him. “Game?”
“I’ve narrowed it down to three men. Is it Harry?”
“What?”
“Or can it be Bainbridge? You danced with him twice at the ball. Or perhaps Asterly?”
“You would accuse your best friend?”
“I’m asking the questions. It’s time for you to supply the answers.”
Her temper crackled to life. She clutched her skirts tighter to stop herself from slapping the insolence from his face. “I told you this morning that I didn’t have a lover, and now you accuse me of cavorting with half the male population in the county!”
“Not half. Merely the ones staying in my house.”
“I’m boggled as to why you’ve excluded Mr. Bates from my many victims.”
“Freddy’s been eliminated from the field. My secretary told me that he inadvertently stumbled across him and one of the second floor maids in a compromising situation at the same time we were out for a ride this morning. I have enormous respect for Freddy’s prowess, but it doesn’t extend to believing that he could have his way with two women at the same time in different locations.”
“You astound me. I had the impression you were capable of believing anything!”
“Nevertheless, I must speak to Freddy. Whether or not the girl was willing, her parents would be disappointed in me if she should come to harm or disgrace while in my employ. You see, my love, I can be rather particular about the conduct of the females under my roof. Whatever their station.”
Bristling, she’d built up plenty of steam for a biting retort, but he continued before she had the chance to rip into him.
“So, we’ve established that it isn’t Freddy. Bainbridge left before luncheon, but that still doesn’t acquit him. That leaves us with Asterly and the highly libidinous, Handsome Harry.”
“How remiss of you to forget the rest of your male guests and the whole of Berkshire choked with my discarded lovers!”
“I forgot no one. This morning the Penderbys were packing and getting ready to leave before luncheon. According to my staff, young Simon is head over heels for Leticia.”
He leaned forward to intimidate her but she held her ground. His stare stayed on the angry rise and fall of her bosom. “Captain Penderby would
n’t have shown his face this morning—at least not anywhere around me. What I had to say to him last night left him in a remarkably hostile mood. He was dim enough to ask me—of all people—about your monetary expectations and made a bet as to how soon he could win you over.”
“Hah!You grow sadly absentminded, sir, to have neglected to accuse me of consorting with their father.”
“He’s a bit overripe for a young lady’s romantic notions of a gallant lover.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure, my lord. Wisdom increases with age and is often comforting in comparison to the sad want of common sense in those younger and less astute!”
That fired his temper and hardened his resolve. “Which one is it, Peregrine or Harry?”
She dealt his chest a jab with a straight index finger. “You dare to accuse me of immoral behavior with your closest friends?”
He brushed her hand away. “What have we here, my love, outraged virtue or guilty passion?”
“You will remove your hand from the door this instant!”
“Possibly…after I have the truth. If you know what truth is.”
Her control snapped. She shoved his chest, which fanned her fury when the full force of her efforts had no effect. “Get out of my way! The betrothal is off! I won’t be tied to a life of accusations and insults.”
Her tirade ended when his free arm abruptly circled her waist and hauled her close. The air got knocked out of her when she connected with his chest. He lowered his head to look her in the eye. She turned her head away. He took his hand from the door and captured her chin. He waited for her furious glare to meet his before he spoke.
“You won’t get out of the engagement that easily, Cass. Do you really think me such a milksop? Or that I could be so easily managed and manipulated? I don’t know what sort of men you’ve known before, but I’m not one of their kind. Even if I should decide to release you from the betrothal, you wouldn’t like my methods. And why should I suffer embarrassment for the sake of your pride and lack of discipline? Stop squirming like that. You’ll only hurt yourself and end up bruised.”
“Then let me go!”
“This morning I sent off the announcements to the papers. Don’t be a fool and work against me. I’m asking for very little, only honesty.”
“I’ve never lied, and Uncle Duncan will have your head hacked off for treating me like this!”
His gentle laugh and reply stunned her to stillness.
“I already have their written consent. Lord and Lady Duncan are so delighted with this match they’re delirious.”
She thumped his arm with her fist and inflamed her fury with the discovery that it hurt her more than him. “I have no need for their permission, you thick-headed ox! I’m my own woman and of age.”
“You certainly are.” He glanced over her defiant face then lowered his mouth to hers.
Cassandra stilled. Far from feeling frightened, all of her resolve to resist melted away. From the cruel look in his eyes and the inexorable grip of his embrace, she expected a brutal and punishing kiss, but his lips whispered over hers, tender and coaxing. The fight drained out of her limbs. She thought she could hang on to her resolve, but it was impossible. She tried for a complete lack of response and failed. As the moments passed, his touch became familiar, more and more insistent.
Cassandra gave in to the treacherous weakening of her body betraying her will to resist. Pride seemed silly and pointless. Somewhere in the dark, floating recesses of her numbed mind, she realized that his earlier intent to persuade or punish her was now forgotten. He’d gotten caught up in something he couldn’t control. He wordlessly begged her with his mouth to love him back. It was unbearably exciting to learn that she could reduce this stern, disciplined giant to desperate petitioner.
His frantic need fired her own. She couldn’t get close enough and savored his ardent pleasure at her welcoming response. His growl of satisfaction when she clutched his hair shivered over her skin. She pressed into his touch when he searched for what pleased her most.
The room, the hour, the world receded. There was nothing left but a languorous haze, unfamiliar at first, but quickly growing into an alarming hunger. When his lips left hers and began to slide down her throat she could only think to draw him closer. She shuddered when she felt his immense body trembling against her own with a ravening need she now understood. Her impatient hands had a life of their own, trying to find a way under the tight fit of his clothes. Her fingers found his lawn shirt. Underneath the soft material she explored the fascinating feel of the solid ridges of muscle that supported his spine. Strong hands under her bottom lifted her higher to help her questing mouth. She yanked free her hands and gripped his shoulders when he hoisted her up. She heard the panting breaths she couldn’t control as she used her nose to nudge aside his high shirt collar. A thrill zipped along her limbs when her teeth found and nipped bare flesh. His body froze when she licked the spot before going in search of his mouth. She wrapped herself around him and allowed herself to be swallowed whole into an experience beyond her understanding or control.
Lost in the taste and texture of his mouth, she was unaware of her skirts being lifted until cool air slid along one exposed leg. The glide of his palm warmed away the chill. He allowed her body to slide down. She involuntarily tightened her legs around his waist in refusal and connected with something rock-hard. Her body reacted naturally, her softness shoving against his hardness. She vaguely heard his whispered curse. He squeezed both hands on her bottom to guide and increase the pressure. Intense pleasure shuddered throughout her body and wrenched free a groan from deep within. Through a haze of passion, she saw his head fall back and his sensual lips tighten. His grip kneaded her flesh, urging her to match his rhythm.
The interlude racing madly out of control got interrupted when the library door slammed into Ravenswold’s arm and leg. Cassandra found herself, and she couldn’t quite remember how, on the other side of the room, standing by the table where she had set down the book. She picked it up, kept her back to the door and pretended to be engrossed in the subject of housekeeping. She didn’t immediately notice that the book was upside-down. She was only aware of the way it trembled in her hands and that she couldn’t still the shaking no matter how hard she tried.
Tucker’s low voice rumbled somewhere behind her, something to do with Mrs. Gliddens. The words were incomprehensible; her mind as well as her hands refused to work properly. She was distracted by the tingling sensations in various parts of her body. No wonder people risked reputations and relationships for the thrall of desire. She suddenly understood his reasoning for doubting her.
Cassandra resolutely kept her back to the two men at the door. She didn’t look up from the book until the door clicked shut. She carefully closed the book, and with both hands, placed it on the table’s glossy surface.
Cassandra didn’t want to turn around but felt compelled to look. When she did, she saw Ravenswold in front of a wall mirror, rearranging his neckcloth, his reflection stiff and stern. He hastily ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to restore some order to the tousled chestnut waves. She wondered if he’d been able to mask his earlier emotions from the footman and was glad she’d kept her face averted. She had no control over these new and powerful feelings.
Ravenswold inhaled a slow, deep breath before turning around. “As you see, my love, it’s beyond our restraint. If I wasn’t sure of you before, I am now. I don’t know what sort of hold this man has over you, but that is no longer a burning question in respect to your loyalty to me. Somehow I know that you’re not the sort who would give to another what you have just shared with me.”
She remained mute and still shaken as he took a final glance in the mirror to assure himself that a modicum of his usual urbanity had been restored. He briefly studied her in the glass before stalking to where she stood beside the table.
Cassandra stood quietly while he buttoned up the front of her gown with great care and concentration. It hadn’t
registered that her clothes were undone. Her shoulders sagged as she gave in to gratefulness and said a thankful prayer that she’d kept her back to the men. A blush stung her cheeks.
She wished she could tell him about Arthur. Perhaps she should? Then she remembered that Rave was the local magistrate. Brushing aside a shooting in London from months ago was one thing, but ignoring an escaped prisoner in one’s own parish was not so easily done.
Cassandra closed her eyes when she felt his lips on her brow. She loved his mouth, especially now that she knew what it could do to her.
“You must excuse me, Cass. Mrs. Gliddens has asked for an interview about Freddy’s maid. We can finish our discussion later. I sincerely regret my conduct a few minutes earlier. It was my place to not let things get so out of hand.”
She followed him to the door and reached out to stop him before he opened it. “Ravenswold, what will you do?”
“Do?” he asked, his hand closing around the door latch. “About Freddy and the maid?”
“No, not Freddy.” She searched his gaze.
He stared at her as if she should know the answer. He opened the door and answered, “Kill him.”
Helpless tears welled up in her eyes when the door clicked shut. The newly discovered passionate aspect of their relationship had made him even more driven to know her secret. She sank into the nearest chair, too overwhelmed to think of how to save Arthur and their mutual friend.
Then it came to her: Rave called her passion real, her response a truth. She knew what she had to do.
Chapter 27
Cassandra stayed in the library where she sat in a high-backed chair by the mullioned windows. Warm sunlight slanted across her lap, sliding toward the end of a fateful day. The thick panes of glass cast multicolored splotches on her gown.
The housekeeping book she tried to read had been set on the windowsill, twice opened and shut for lack of comprehension. She couldn’t think clearly when so much had happened in so little time. What she really wanted to do was find Ravenswold and charm him into exploring more thoroughly the interesting part of her physical nature she never knew existed. A thrill rippled over her skin as she recalled the strength of his arms, the heedless rush for something beyond her grasp.
