“You may believe it has to do with your scar, but I think it has more to do with your general cheerless manner. You’ve become downright melancholy.” Gray’s teasing manner disappeared in an instant as he leaned over the table. “Does she make you happy?”
A simple question without a simple answer. What was happiness? Would he even recognize it? “She makes me laugh. She’s fascinating. I’ve actually enjoyed our conversations. In turns, she’s annoyingly autocratic and incredibly vulnerable. I’m never sure if I want to take her across my knee or protect her with my life. I constantly think about her in the most salacious ways that end up frustrating the hell out of me. Is that happiness? Or a living hell?”
“That’s life with a woman you care about, my friend,” Gray said if delivering dire news.
Rafe sat back and absorbed the blow. “Oh, bloody hell.”
* * * * *
Bundled in cloaks, Lily and Minerva strolled between hedges, out of sight of the house. Minerva tried to quicken her steps. If she hurried, Lily wouldn’t have a chance to interrogate her, but her friend kept their arms linked, forcing Minerva to match her ponderous pace.
“I hope Rafe hasn’t been too demanding of you?”
“It’s certainly…that is to say, no, he’s not been.” Minerva cursed her tongue.
“What tasks, pray tell, has he been asking you to perform?” Lily’s voice was sharp, belying her casual manner.
“At first, I worked with Jenny, the upstairs maid. She comes from a wonderful family in Lipton. Do you know them? Ten brothers and sisters. La, can you imagine?”
“Yes, I know Jenny and her family well. What else has he had you do?”
“There was a spot of trouble with Simon, but Ra—your brother handled it admirably. You won’t recognize Simon. I’m so proud of him, and Lord Drummond has been ever so patient. It’s amazing. After the spot of trouble, I moved to the blue bedroom, and he said I wasn’t to work anymore, but I can’t stay idle, so I began organizing the books in the study. He has quite the collection, as I’m sure you’re aware. I’ve found some excellent travelogues and novels. Have you read The Lady of the Lake?” Minerva had to stop for a breath, her words tumbling on top of each other.
Lily stopped and turned Minerva to face her, her hands tight on Minerva’s upper arms. “Where in the devil were you sleeping before you got moved to the blue bedroom?”
“In your nursemaid’s old room.” Minerva tried a smile, but her puny effort didn’t seem to dent the impossible-to-misinterpret outrage on Lily’s face. She looked ready to unman her brother.
“That blighter.”
“I was quite comfortable. Please don’t make a fuss.”
Lily harrumphed. “I’ll let it go—for now. Are you fighting constantly?”
“We had a few clashes at the beginning, but I’ve come to understand him a bit better. He’s different than I supposed.”
“You aren’t completely miserable then?”
“No, not at all.” Minerva could almost feel Lily’s gaze try to strip to the truth behind her words. She tucked her arm back into Lily’s and got them moving again. “Honestly, Lily, I promise. Recently, I’ve even been happy.”
Lily allowed her to steer them through a grassy space to a fountain littered with colorful leaves. “Has he been drinking?”
“He had a bit too much when Lord Stonewell was here.”
“Only one overindulgence? That’s an improvement, I suppose. He can be terribly insulting when he’s drunk. I hope he didn’t embarrass you too badly. Poor old Stonewell. I suppose Rafe wasn’t very polite?”
“No, not very.” Minerva cast her eyes to the gray skies at the understatement.
“Will your prodigal brother take dinner with us tonight? I would love to see the miraculous change myself.”
“I’m sure he will. If only you could have seen him working here the first few days. He kept his fine London clothes on to muck out the stables. It’s not often you see a man in a perfectly tied cravat shoveling horse dung around. Rafe has done wonders with him.” She laughed, and Lily joined in, but the decidedly speculative gleam in her eyes set Minerva’s nerves jangling.
Chapter Fifteen
Dinner was a lively affair. On his best behavior, Simon was charming and gregarious. Sipping her wine, Minerva imagined the devastating impact her brother would have on the London misses in the spring. No doubt, he would be pursued with renewed vigor. A rich, handsome, bachelor duke was a rare commodity. Where would Simon be without Rafe? A debtor’s prison? Where would she be without him?
She turned to find him staring with an intensity that set her blood racing. Smiling, she raised her glass in an unspoken toast. The corners of his mouth quirked, and he raised his glass in return. The conversation ebbed around them. They hadn’t been alone since their passionate embrace, and his stare made her wonder when—not if—they would continue where they’d left off. Laughter cresting around them broke the connection.
After a dinner of roast pork and vegetables, along with a decadent dessert of braised apples, Simon pushed back from the table and patted his belly. “I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. Lord Drummond has me doing all his dirty work these days.” He winked at the table in general and bowed to Lily and Minerva. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your spirits and gossip. I must stop to give Mrs. Potts my most sincere thanks on such a fine meal.”
After a round of murmured good evenings, silence descended until Lily broke it. “What have you done with the real duke? That cannot be the same dissolute wastrel.”
“Isn’t it amazing? It took Rafe less than two months to transform him. The first three weeks were…” Minerva paused, searching for the right word.
“Hellish?” Rafe supplied.
“Rafe Drummond, there are ladies present, don’t forget.” Lily’s admonishing tone was ruined when her laughter snuck through.
“I’m fairly certain you could teach me a few choice words, Mrs. Masterson.” Rafe lifted his glass in a toast.
Lily told an abbreviated version of how she’d donated all of Rafe’s brandy to the local tavern after reaching her wit’s end with his bouts of overindulgence. “When Rafe discovered every decanter empty, let’s just say every matron of Almack’s would have swooned dead away if they’d been within earshot.”
Even as he joined the laughter, tight lines pulled at his mouth, and he eschewed an after-dinner glass of port. Gray suggested cards, and they settled around the playing table in the drawing room.
Lily leaned toward Minerva. “Watch out, Gray is a disgraceful cheat.”
“Mrs. Masterson, why I never. That you would expunge my honor thusly is outrageous. You’ll pay for that in spades later.” Waggling his eyebrows at his wife, Gray dealt the cards.
Minerva had never had such an atrocious hand. Rafe tossed his cards back on the table, face up, to show a similarly poor deal.
“My, my, that is an astonishingly bad hand, Rafe,” Gray said with a convincing gasp. “Let’s hope your partner fared better.”
Minerva fanned her cards out. “How in the world did you do that?”
Gray demonstrated the trick and had Minerva attempt it. Rafe’s gaze never left her, and she fumbled with the cards. Several scattered across the table.
Lily scooped them up and took the deck from Minerva, shuffling with the same precision as Gray. “It’s all right, Minerva, learning to cheat takes loads of practice and an excellent teacher.” She smiled at Gray while her hands moved in a graceful arc, dealing a round. Again, she and Gray had the winning hands.
“Where did you learn to do that, Gray? At Eton?” Minerva threw her cards in the middle of the table and shook her head.
“It was part of my training when I joined the home office. There were some basic skills I needed in to order to maintain a plausible cover. Cards, languages, accents, disguises. I learned how to navigate a
boat using the constellations, how to repair a wagon wheel, shoe a horse and perform simple surgery. An education of a different sort than I received at Eton. This time I promise I won’t cheat, and we’ll play a real game, shall we?” Gray shuffled and dealt.
“Was your training similar, Rafe?” Minerva asked after they discarded, casting a look at him through her lashes. He’d been quiet throughout Lily and Gray’s demonstrations, although a smile lingered around his eyes.
“In some respects, but my talents lay elsewhere.”
“What was your talent?” She sensed rather than saw him tense and looked up from her cards, realizing too late that she’d taken a misstep. Rafe’s discomfort was obvious. He shifted in his seat, the tease in his eyes gone.
“My size made me a good fit for more physical endeavors. I was sent in situations where they required a bit of muscle, but someone who could think on his feet as well.”
“What sort of things did you learn?” Lily turned toward her brother before Minerva could change the subject. The two siblings wore a similar intensity even though they looked nothing alike.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Rafe’s jaw ticked.
“Come now. It’s time you discussed it, brother. I want to know.”
Minerva and Gray exchanged a glance.
“Rafe was a master at extracting prisoners. He could plan and execute a rescue better than anyone. That trap you orchestrated in Toulouse was genius. They still talk about it around the office.” The good humor in Gray’s voice sounded forced.
“But what else, I know there’s more.” Now that Lily had sniffed out a bone of information, she was a bloodhound.
Rafe threw his cards down and lay his palms flat on the tabletop. “I was trained to kill. With a rock, a blade, a bullet, a piece of string even and, of course, my bare hands. Is that what you want to hear, Lily? That I’m a killer? That England sent me to do the dirtiest work possible?” Rafe stood, his chair toppling with a bang. He left without a backward glance and slammed the door.
An awkward silence descended.
“Well done, Lily.” Gray rested his forehead on a propped, fisted hand, his gaze on the green felt tabletop.
“It’s been over a year. He should talk about it. Excise the poison.” Indignation threaded her words.
Minerva focused her most intimidating, icy stare on her best friend. “Shame on you. Don’t you understand him at all? You’re his sister. He wants you to look at him like the big brother he was, not as he sees himself now. He feels damaged. No matter how you press, you can’t fix him, and he doesn’t want you to try.”
Lily’s mouth opened and closed. “I-I didn’t realize—”
“You didn’t realize because you want to satisfy your own oversized curiosity.” Minerva rose. “You owe your brother an apology.”
His eyes wide and with a hint of a smile, Gray whispered, “Bravo, Lady Minerva,” which earned him a slap on the arm from Lily.
Minerva went straight to the study, sure he would be there pouring himself a drink. It was empty. Deflated, she toyed with the idea of searching the house, most notably his room, but discarded it. Lily and Gray were staying directly across the hall.
The study offered her comfort—the smell, the masculinity that oozed from the dark heavy furniture, his beloved books that lined the walls. She plopped in his armchair and pulled a rug over her legs. She would wait. All night, if necessary.
A killer, he’d said, but she suspected things weren’t so simple. He had honor. He had a conscience. He struggled with guilt and remorse. He wouldn’t kill without reason and a weighing of justice. The snippet from his journal, his darkly beautiful poems, the ramblings during his nightmare—they all spoke of a conflicted soul.
The extraordinary number of poetry and children’s books still in his library was telling. He might possess the body of a warrior, but he longed for the innocence of childhood and simple beauty. How difficult it must have been for him. First, to grow up with such a harsh, unemotional father and then to be trained as an assassin, to take another’s life on command.
Her heart ached for him. As if drawn by her emotional musing, Rafe pushed the door of the study open and stepped inside.
“What are you doing here?” His tone was clear. Get out. Like her, he had erected walls. Thicker, taller and even more difficult to breech, but she would try to scale them.
Minerva walked straight into him, wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest. He stayed stiff and unyielding in her embrace for a moment, but when the surrender came, it was swift. He locked his arms around her, and his lungs deflated under her cheek. Curling around her, he rested his chin on top of her head.
“What’s this then?” His voice rumbled under her cheek.
“I thought you might need a friend.”
“Why would I deserve such? I’ve done abominable things.”
She pulled back to take his face in her hands and forced him to look her in the eye. “Inside your warrior’s body beats the heart of a poet. That’s why the past haunts you. I can’t tell you to forget the past, it will always be with you because of your nature, but it might help to talk about it. I’m not pushing like Lily. You could talk to your father or to Gray. Anyone. But I would listen.” She dropped her hands to his shoulders, tensing for his reaction. He hadn’t shoved her away—yet.
He surprised her by roughly pulling her closer, burying his face in her neck. Her lips sought his and found them on a similar hunt. They collided in a maelstrom of emotion. Passion, yes, but there was an added dimension to the kiss. A tenderness, perhaps. Soon, understanding its meaning wasn’t as important as the press of her body into his. Their tongues coiled and explored, but she needed more. Needed his wicked hands.
His attention was entirely on the play of their lips. He caressed her face and weaved his fingers through her hair, but her desperate, impatient squirming against him didn’t go unnoticed. Breaking the mind-numbing kiss, he chuckled. If her world hadn’t blurred and tipped, she might have kicked him.
“Now is not the time to fulfill my promise. Unfortunately.”
She managed a very eloquent grunt in response. Putting several inches between their bodies, his caressed her waist, testing the span and offering support.
“Anyway, I need to find Lily and apologize.” His mouth tightened.
“You will do no such thing, Rafe Drummond.”
“But I acted a boor.”
“Not without due cause to my way of thinking. It’s Lily that owes you an apology, and you’ll let her make it. Promise me.”
“All right.” A fleeting smile twitched his beard before he stepped back and rubbed his nape. “Tomorrow is the harvest fair in Lipton. Would you like to go?”
The abrupt change in topic left her mute for a moment. Finally, unable to mask her incredulity, she asked, “With you?”
“That was the idea. If you’re interested. If not, it’s fine, of course.” His head down, he fingered his scar while red spread over his cheeks. My God, the man looked…nervous.
Minerva caught his hand and pulled it away from its agitated rambling. “I would love to accompany you. I’ve never been to a country fair.”
“It seems I’m to introduce you to all sort of firsts.” He smiled, a real one this time, his white teeth on display and his relief palpable.
His insinuation left her lungs tight, gasping for air. Now she was the nervous one. A tentative knock sounded on the door. Lily peeked around the doorjamb.
“We’ll leave early afternoon. Now, I think Lily and I should chat,” he said.
Holding his gaze, she smiled, shakily perhaps, but with an equal amount of anticipation tempering her nerves. It seemed to bemuse him. Although he rarely played the gentleman with her, he took her hand and bussed the back, very properly. A bit bemused herself, she walked past Lily, who had taken in t
heir exchange with huge eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
The next day dawned clear and cool. Autumn had officially pushed the late summer warmth away, but the skies were blue and the changing leaves blanketed the countryside in rich hues.
Rafe stood outside the stable door holding two sets of reins and chatting with Tom Donahue. His back stretched the fabric of his dun-colored jacket, and her step quickened with a shot of anticipation. He shifted to watch her approach, his smile reaching all the way into his eyes. If Tom hadn’t been standing there, she might have walked into his chest and searched for his lips again.
Instead, he offered a formal greeting and small bow before offering a hand up. On the way to Lipton, Rafe pointed out various landmarks. Men and women called out greetings, and Rafe often inquired after their spouse or children by name. He was obviously well liked and admired amongst the crofters and merchants in town. His servants should have no complaints either. They all had the afternoon and evening off to enjoy themselves.
As they neared the edge of town, foot traffic picked up considerably. Colorful tents dotted the main street, and flags waved in the slight breeze on the corners. The lilt of music drifted in the air.
“This is so exciting.” She rose in her stirrups to see as far as possible.
“Didn’t you grow up on one of your country estates? I’m surprised you didn’t sneak down to one of their fairs.”
“I’m a rule follower by nature, and our rules were numerous and strict. It was rare we had an afternoon out of doors, much less leave to attend a fair.” She couldn’t keep a certain wistfulness away.
“Good Lord, I can understand why Simon went wild once he was set free in London. Makes me feel even sorrier for the chap. And what about you, did you not feel the need to rebel as well?”
Sliding the reins through her fingers, Minerva reviewed the last years of her life. “I think I did, in my way. It’s why I haven’t married, why I took over the estate. I was sick of being told what I should do and say.”
A Brazen Bargain: Spies and Lovers, Book 2 Page 18
