Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances

by Tammy Andresen

Charlie froze. This time, she had not been in search of an adventure but one seemed to have found her. There was a labyrinth of caves, they could be referring to any one of them. She could try and scramble up the hill or she could hide.

  Spinning about, she slipped into the little hideaway. Surely, she’d be safe there.

  Raithe took a third hit to his gut, tensing his muscles to try and reduce the impact of the blow. He’d not hit back, no matter how much he itched to break Rathmore’s rather perfect nose. “Are you satisfied yet?”

  “No,” Rathmore gritted back, cocking his fist for another hit. “Charlie is a complete innocent. Or she was until you defiled her.”

  Raithe thought back to that afternoon when she’d lain on his bed, legs apart. He had defiled her, but it had been of mutual desire. “And I’ve assured you that I will correct the matter.”

  Rathmore hit him again. “I don’t want her to marry you. That’s the problem. You’re not nearly good enough for her and—”

  Raithe grimaced. Well, that was the truth.

  “Gentlemen,” Mr. Moorish called from the door. “May I assist in some way?”

  Craven and Crestwood each held his arms, not that he planned to go anywhere. “No, sir. We’re fine. They’re just releasing some pent-up irritation with me.”

  He felt Craven relax. “Balstead has agreed to wed Charlie.”

  Mr. Moorish stepped further into the room. “Did he agree because you’re hitting him?”

  Crestwood let out a short, harsh laugh. “No, Mr. Moorish. But he did agree because he’s been less than honorable.”

  Mr. Moorish tapped his foot on the plush carpet. “Then I insist you cease.”

  “He deserves it,” Rathmore bit out.

  “Your Grace,” Mr. Moorish’s voice rose with a sharpness that surprised Raithe. It must have surprised the other men too because their hands dropped. “I am not the fool you think me to be.” He stepped to Raithe’s side as Crestwood cleared out of his way. “I am aware of the shenanigans that have gone on in my house. I was young and in love and you’ve all done the honorable thing so I have allowed it to pass.” His finger rose in the air. “Would you prefer that I treated each of you this way?”

  Silence met his words.

  He turned toward Raithe. “You intend to marry her?”

  “Yes,” Raithe answered.

  “You have an affection for her?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. There was no point denying it any longer. “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Moorish lowered his voice. “You will be true to her?”

  He couldn’t imagine ever touching another woman after Charlie. “Of course.”

  He gave a single nod. “Then you’d best go tell her so. She left crying and I think those words might provide her with a great deal of comfort.”

  He winced. “Crying?” He straightened, hating the idea that she hurt. That he’d hurt her. “Where?”

  “Toward the beach. Go.” Then he lifted his finger again and pointed to the other men. “And since they are engaged, we’ll leave them to it. You have your own brides to attend and your own actions to make amends for.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “There will be no more fighting in my house. It is a behavior I don’t tolerate in my sailors and I will not allow amongst my sons-in-law. You take your squabbles elsewhere. Am I clear?”

  The men nodded, Rathmore looking at the floor as Craven shrugged a shoulder. “Apologies, Mr. Moorish.”

  “Call me Tom.” Then he pointed at Raithe. “Now go. Before Charlie finds any more trouble. That girl has a penchant for it, to be certain.”

  He nodded as he left the three men with their father-in-law. He smiled as he thought of the tongue-lashing that was still to come. It was good to know even a duke could be put in his place.

  He made his way out of the house, skidding down the path. He could only hope that Charlie had headed for the hideaway. It was the perfect private spot for the conversation they needed to have.

  But as trotted along the path to the beach, it wasn’t Charlie he found. Instead, he saw three men pushing crates across the beach. Backlit by moonlight, they hauled them up into one of the upper caves.

  His heart hammered with fear. If they were here, then where was the woman he loved?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charlie huddled against the stone, curled into a ball, her head dropped into her arms. She saw them climbing above her. She hadn’t even realized there was a cave there but she knew one thing, this area stayed dry. Which she should have thought of when she’d considered hiding spots.

  If they wanted dry loot, this was the spot to be.

  Were they pirates? Looters? Thieves? She told herself to, for once in her life, keep her head down and for goodness sake, stay quiet. Covering her ears, she tried not to hear them either, but their conversation filtered through her hands to her ears.

  “This shipment is a beauty. Lots of Frenchie wine.”

  “Think Captain would notice if we have one?” another replied.

  “Ye ken he would,” a third answered. “But I might take a slug anyway fer some o’ that wine. That Moorish fellow has some fine goods.”

  “That we did a fine job of stealing.” They all cackled.

  Charlie tried to keep quiet, but a little gasp escaped her lips.

  They didn’t seem to hear, and she burrowed her face deeper into her skirts.

  These men were stealing from Mr. Moorish and storing the goods on his own property. If she made it out of this, she’d see the goods returned and these men caught.

  But first she just needed to make it out of here. The moon disappeared behind a cloud, casting complete darkness about her. She could see one of their lanterns swinging as they moved away.

  Slowly, she unfurled her body, rising into a crouch. Should she make a break for it or wait them out?

  “Charlie,” a deep voice whispered in her ear, even as a hand covered her mouth.

  Raithe. She looked back, snaking an arm about his neck. Right now, she didn’t care if they were at odds, she’d never been happier to see anyone in her entire life. He’d come for her. “Oh, Raithe. I wasn’t looking for trouble. Honestly.”

  “I know. But it does seem to find you. You’ll keep me on my toes, that’s for certain.” The casual mention of him keeping her safe in the future filled her with that sort of warm, gushy feeling. She tightened her hold around his neck. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.” Then he pulled her up, wrapping his arm about her waist, and skirting along the rocks to the entrance.

  Raithe stopped, looking both ways.

  Charlie peeked out and noted their lanterns were bobbing toward the ocean. Raithe tugged her hand and they started for the path.

  Charlie ran next to Raithe as fast as her legs, wrapped in skirts, would allow but twice she nearly fell. After the second time, Raithe scooped her into his arms.

  “Hey,” a voice called from below. “Who goes there?”

  “Catch them,” another yelled out.

  “Raithe,” Charlie curled her fingers into his neck. “Put me down. You’ll be faster if I run too.”

  He didn’t say a word just grunted as he picked up speed up the rocky path. That’s when the crack of a pistol filled the air. Charlie shrank into Raithe as another gun fired and then a third.

  On the last shot the bullet seemed to whizz just past her head and she heard Raithe grunt again.

  They were nearly at the top of the path now and the moment they crested the bluff, Raithe yelled out a loud, booming, “Help!”

  As if in answer, the front door burst open as men poured from the house.

  Dashlane, Craven, Crestwood, Rathmore, Mr. Moorish, and several servants raced toward them all carrying pistols.

  “Hostiles on the beach,” Raithe yelled as the men moved closer. “They’re storing stolen goods.”

  Mr. Moorish stopped. “Stolen goods, you say?”

  “Your wine,” Charlie added. “I heard them talking.”

&nb
sp; Mr. Moorish gave a nod. “Both of you inside. Our mission is to capture, gentlemen.”

  “I’m coming too,” Raithe set her down even as Ophelia, Cordelia, and Bianca approached the group.

  Mr. Moorish gave him a quick glance. “Protect the women if it comes to that and get your arm bandaged. You’re bleeding, son. You need to check the wound.”

  Raithe looked down at the arm. “It’s just a scratch.”

  But Charlie caught her breath. “Scratch? You’ve been shot!”

  Raithe looked at the arm again. It was only a graze. The blood running down his arm might make holding a pistol tricky, though. “We’re wasting time.” Still, he wasn’t staying behind, not when the rest of the men were in danger.

  Mr. Moorish gave him a glancing look before he nodded. Then he looked to his daughters. “Girls, you know where to hide until we return.”

  Ophelia grabbed Charlie’s arm as she began pulling her toward the house. “Be careful,” she said as they moved away.

  Careful was not exactly the word Raithe wanted to use. They’d shot at and nearly hit Charlie. The bullet had been a mere inch from her face.

  Something deep inside him had shifted. He understood with stark reality that he’d nearly lost her.

  What if he’d never had the chance to hold her again? Tell her that she’d thawed the ice about his heart? What if he couldn’t marry her and spend days worshipping every inch of her?

  He looked over his shoulder to see her gaze upon him even as Ophelia pulled her in the opposite direction. His chest tightened. He was in love with her.

  “Anyone have a pistol I can use?”

  Dashlane pulled a pistol from his belt. “Here. I’ve got two. You take this one.”

  Mr. Moorish made his way down the path with a sprightliness that surprised Raithe. Older and a bit heavy, the man could move.

  “We need to make sure at least one of them remains alive. I want to know who they’re working for. This is the third theft in a month. It stops tonight.”

  The man silently nodded just as Raithe caught sight of lanterns bobbing toward the caves once again. “We should capture them before they make it to the caves.”

  “Agreed,” Rathmore replied. “Craven, Dashlane, Crestwood, take a sharp right so as to cut off their path. The three of us will flank them from behind.”

  Everyone nodded as their group split in two.

  Raithe could see they pushed another crate, working doubly hard. He nearly smiled. It would be much easier to catch them by surprise with them bent over, working as they were. He stepped into the lead, the sand allowing him to move stealthily behind them. He picked the largest one and grabbed him by the neck, swinging the man to the ground and holding his pistol to his head as he drove his knee into the man’s back.

  He heard the other two men cock their guns, likely aiming right at him, but Mr. Moorish stepped up next to him, Rathmore on his other side. “You’ve been surrounded. Drop your weapons.”

  In answer, they raised their guns clearly set to fire at Mr. Moorish when a shot rang out from behind. One of the men grunted but the other fired back into the darkness.

  In response, Rathmore charged, driving the man into the ground.

  The third raised his hands, dropping his pistol.

  Craven came out of the dark, holding his gun to the third thief’s head. “Down on your knees.”

  “Don’t shoot,” the other man cried. “I’ve been hit.”

  Crestwood and Dashlane appeared behind Craven, Dashlane holding the right side of his head.

  Mr. Moorish pulled out the rope and knife that he’d attached to his belt. “Tie their hands behind their backs. These men and I are going to have a little chat.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charlie paced about the small, windowless room they currently occupied. If she weren’t so distracted, she would have been impressed.

  A bookcase that had blended in with the rest, had swung open, revealing the room behind.

  “How many men were there?” Ophelia asked quietly, filling the silence about them. Even the ocean was deadened in their tiny room.

  “Three,” she answered. She’d told them the same thing half a dozen times since they’d entered the room, but she thought it made all of them feel better to know their men outnumbered the thieves.

  “Three,” Ophelia repeated, twisting her hands together. “Unless there were more back at the boat.”

  Charlie shook her head. “It sounded like they were the three responsible for hiding the goods. They discussed opening some of the wine. Could they do that with others helping?”

  Bianca stepped up and took her hands. “That sounds right. Good job listening. Come sit. You’ll wear yourself out.”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly. I’m too nervous. He should have come up with us. He was injured and—”

  “And you love him,” Cordelia finished. “Have you told him?”

  Charlie’s shoulders slumped. She’d said that she wanted to marry him. But lots of women wanted to marry titled lords. It wasn’t quite the same as confessing that she was in love.

  “He’s going to marry her. Chris said so,” Bianca said. “It’s why Papa allowed Lord Balstead down to the beach to fetch her. He’d promised they’d wed.”

  Charlie wrapped her arms about her stomach. She’d wanted to debate that turn of events. But then he’d raced up the hill with her in his arms, literally been shot protecting her. She wasn’t sure she could protest their union but she could tell him how she felt. Hope that given time, he would return her feelings. Learn to love her despite his past connection to his wife.

  A noise outside the room stilled all of them. The case thumped and then swung open, Mr. Moorish standing in the door. “Everyone all right here?”

  Ophelia and Cordelia stood as Charlie turned toward her host. “We’re fine. Are all of you all right?”

  He gave a slow nod, a small smile touching his lips. “Mostly fine. We need to get the constable, but we’d thought we’d allow all of you to see your beaux first.”

  The girls rushed to the door, and for a moment, Charlie thought they might not all make it out the door, but somehow they jockeyed through and she heard their cries as they each found the man they searched for.

  Cordelia let out a cry. “You’re hurt.”

  Charlie stepped toward the door then, her heart hammering in her chest. For some reason, she was more nervous than she’d ever been to see Raithe. Inside, something had changed. She’d succumbed to the love that had been rising inside her, and she didn’t know what that would mean precisely.

  But she didn’t even make it to the entrance before he was in front of her.

  His breeches were covered in sand, his hair windblown, and blood stained the sleeve of his shirt. He looked divine.

  She gave a cry as, without thought, she launched herself into his arms. “I was so worried.”

  He wrapped her in his embrace, lifting off her feet. “Charlie,” he whispered close to her ear, his voice rough with emotion.

  Her breath caught. “You should set me down. Your arm.”

  “I don’t want to,” he answered, his voice gruff even as he nuzzled his face into her neck. “You’re sure you’re not injured anywhere?”

  “I’m fine.” She leaned back to look at him. “You’re the one I’m worried about.”

  Rather than answer, he captured her lips with his own a quick, hard kiss that left her breathless.

  Mr. Moorish cleared his throat. “I’ve sent for the constable, I’ll wait for him in the sitting room downstairs. The rest of you should go get some rest and make sure to lock your doors both inside and out. The balconies are climbable.” Then he turned and left the room.

  Charlie looked over Raithe’s shoulder. “He left us?”

  Rathmore wrapped an arm around Ophelia’s waist. “He knows we want to protect our women tonight, I think.”

  Charlie’s mouth dropped open. “But…”

  Raithe let out a s
hort chuckle. “The advantage of being engaged. Now, my sweetheart, will you help me bandage my arm?”

  “Of course.” She wiggled down from his hold, inspecting the wound. “Does it hurt terribly?”

  “No. It’s fine. But perhaps we’ll go somewhere quieter where you can inspect it more thoroughly.”

  Quieter? But she didn’t ask as he took her by the arm and pulled her from the room.

  Raithe didn’t give a flying fig about the wound. He just needed an excuse to get Charlie alone. To hold her, touch her, and tell her how he felt.

  He pulled her along, heading for her room. Up the stairs they started when she gave a tiny tug. “We should go to the kitchen and get some supplies.”

  “I don’t need supplies,” he answered, starting up the stairs again.

  “But your arm,” she protested, tugging again.

  “It’s fine.” He stopped turning back to her. “What I need is you.”

  “Oh,” she said, not moving. “I need to tend to your wound. I’ll feel better if I do.”

  How could he deny her that? “Charlie.” He pulled her closer, leaning his forehead down to hers. “If I don’t hold you in my arms soon, I might lose my mind.”

  She smiled then. So soft and so sweet, he ached. “Five minutes. I just need boiling water and fresh linens.”

  “Very well.” He sighed. She started pulling him back down the stairs. “But let me be clear. It’s only a flesh wound. Nothing to worry about at all.”

  She shook her head. “Men.”

  “What about men?”

  “So pig-headed.” She huffed. “We’re getting married, aren’t we?”

  He smiled at that. “We are.”

  “Well, I can’t have you getting an infection before the wedding, now can I? Where will I be then?”

  “They’ll all keep your secret. You’ll be fine.”

  She turned and looked at him, color staining her cheeks. “Not after tonight, I won’t.”

  His body clenched, every nerve coming to attention. “You’d better hurry up with that water, Lady Charlotte. I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever for tonight.”