Edith Layton (11 page)

He bent his head and kissed her again. This time when he drew his mouth away she could feel a fine tremor in that strong frame pressed so intimately to hers. His voice was rougher when he spoke. “I could? No, I think not.”

“But this,” she said, as she bowed her head on his shoulder and felt the heat of his body against her cheek, “this is not love, Rafe.”

“It will do,” he said, and tilted her head up so he could kiss her again.

They walked back to the house, hand in hand. Drum stood in the drive talking to Eric as he waited for Rafe to ride back to the inn with him. The two men saw the couple’s linked hands, and smiled.

“It’s done then?” Eric asked.

Rafe nodded. Brenna cast her glance down.

“It’s well done,” Eric said, taking Rafe’s hand.

Drum took Brenna’s hand as Eric congratulated Rafe. “My best wishes,” he said. “Rafe’s a very lucky fellow.”

There was sincerity in his searching azure gaze. “You can hardly know that,” she said, “but thank you.”

“Clichés are the rule in these situations,” Drum said, “but anyone can tell you I loathe them. I merely speak truth. Just please be kind to him,” he added
with one of his ironic smiles. “He has heart and courage in plenty, and has needed them all his life. Kindness, however, is not a thing he looks for or has much experience of.”

“If I were kind,” she murmured, biting her lip, “I’d refuse him, I think. You know all,” she said in a rush, looking up at him with entreaty. “Is it fair for me to go on with this?”

“Fair?” Rafe asked. She spun around. He’d stopped talking to Eric, and heard what she’d said. “Fair?” he laughed. “All’s fair in love and war.”

She gazed at him, hoping something in his expression would tell her which one of those things this marriage of theirs was to be. His face gave away nothing. Then he took her hand again and led her into the house to tell her parents the happy news.

D
inner was over. Rafe and Brenna had the drawing room to themselves, the privilege of an engaged couple. They sat together by the fireside, Rafe with long legs crossed and one arm draped casually over the back of the settee. He was at ease. Or at least as much at ease as Brenna had ever seen him. Only one boot was tapping the floor.

He’d spent the day since they’d announced their engagement writing letters to get everything in order for their wedding. They were still discussing plans.

“No sense in a long engagement,” he said.

“A hasty wedding will give rise to more talk,” Brenna said.

One of his brows went up. “Could there be more talk, you think?”

She inspected her hands where they lay folded in her lap.

“The banns take three weeks—we’ll take three more,” Rafe went on. “That’ll be time enough to take down some eyebrows, if you’re worried about that.”

She was. “Why such haste?”

“Why such reluctance?” he countered.

“I’m giving you time to change your mind,” she said seriously.

“My mind seldom changes. It’s one of my worst faults. What’s yours?” he asked suddenly.

“My what?” she asked, startled.

“Your worst fault.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’d guess—my impetuousness. No—my wanting to do the opposite of what I’m told. I don’t always, you know. But I want to. No, that’s not bad enough.” Her forefinger found its way to her lips. She chewed the end of it as she thought. “My pride! That’s it. There’s a big fault. Eric’s right. I’d rather suffer in silence than let anyone know I’m hurt, and so sometimes I think I’m insulted when no one meant anything by it. But how am I to know that if I’m off sulking somewhere? And I do that too.”

He reached out and gently took her hand. His other hand soothed the back of it so she couldn’t curl her fingers. “Sulking? Feeling hurt? Tolerable faults,” he said, looking at her hand, “not terrible ones.”

Her color rose. “Well,” she said, “there’s another. I chew my fingers. I suppose that’s one.”

“No,” he said seriously, “chewing other people’s fingers would be a fault. Your own? Merely a habit.”

She looked up and saw his smile. She laughed. “I don’t suppose you consider poking fun at people a fault of yours?”

“A virtue,” he said lazily, moving his other arm from the back of the settee, letting his fingers trail lightly along her shoulder.

She shivered. He bent his head and brushed the top of her forehead with his lips. He lowered his head—and she moved away, with a curious little twitching movement.

“No, please, none of
that,
not now,” she said, shaking her head. “I know what
that’s
like. I don’t know you. Tell me more.”

“Do you know what that’s like with me?” he mused. “Not half, I’d say. But I’d say that, wouldn’t I? All right. About me. I’m a simple man, Bren. What you behold is what I am.”

“Your family then?”

“Oh, as for that. Much more to talk about. I’ve an estimable older brother. The perfect heir. As unlike me as you can get without taking a boat. Blond and fair—in looks at least. Learned and poetic. A gentleman of parts—half horseman, half scholar, and all smooth and polished. My mama dotes on him. My father’s proud of him.”

“And you?” she asked.

“We don’t get along.” He saw her expression, and laughed. “No, we don’t come to blows. We just don’t understand each other. We don’t have to. He’s got the title and will get the estate. I have my own devices. There’s no love lost between us, but don’t worry, there’s no hate either. We’re brothers. And there’s an end to it. I’ve written my family to tell them of the marriage. I think you’ll be impressed by them. I know they will be by you.”

“No other family?” she asked, eager to get off the subject of what they’d think of her.

“I had two sisters. Neither survived infancy. I had an uncle. He left me the estate in Kent and the town house. There’s another handful of uncles and aunts, a few dozen cousins we see at affairs of state. We’re not a close-knit family. That’s all until my brother marries, and that won’t be until he meets a paragon. Until you and I add to the clan, of course.”

She looked away, flustered.

“There is that, Bren,” he said softly, his fingers touching the back of her neck, “more of
that,
yes. I do want children. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you how much I look forward to the getting of them with you.”

Other men had said more about their desire for her. She didn’t remember if she’d ever felt it more. He was short-spoken, but his words struck to the heart in their brevity, clarity, and obvious sincerity.

He kissed her then. It was a few minutes until her hands left his shoulders and went to his chest to keep her distance. He retreated at her touch. But his question was clear in his eyes.

“I don’t know you yet,” she said, as shocked by her response to him as to his obvious reaction to her. “We really don’t know each other that well, do we?”

He nodded. He crossed his arms on his chest. “Right,” he said. “Forgive me. Believe it or not, I’m new at this. That is to say, I’ve known women, but not like lovers. No, that’s not true either. I mean, I’ve women friends, and I’ve known lovers, but I’ve little experience with joining the two. Damme. Not the thing to say, right?”

“The perfect thing to say,” she said, laughing.

“Right,” he said, pleased by her amusement. “Well, then. To know me. To know you. You begin. Your favorite color? Your favorite dinner? And then your favorite song and story. And when you’re done, may we kiss again?”

Rafe and Drum stayed on for almost a month, every minute filled with things to do. They enjoyed themselves, as did Eric and his father. They found the hours passed quickly as they rode, hunted, and reminisced together. Brenna couldn’t complain; she was caught up in a whirlwind of plans for her wedding.

When Rafe and Brenna spoke together, it was usually about those plans. They talked of other things too, in the first flurry of getting to know each other. Most were trivial, most said in company, and mostly to make everyone laugh. But some more important things were asked, and answered, when they were alone each night, at last.

“No,” Rafe finally told Bren, as they sat before the fire in the salon late one night. “Listen, and hear me this time please. I’m not pining for Annabelle. Or constantly thinking of her either. Only you’re doing that. And it’s time to be done with it, Bren. It’s over. I’ve made my peace with it. So should you. No more hinting or trying to bring up the subject in new and clever ways. I’m not saying I didn’t care for her. I did. But a man who carries a light in his heart when there’s no fuel for it burns himself up from the inside out. I’ve seen it happen. I wouldn’t let it consume me.”

“It’s the sort of thing one can’t prevent,” she said sadly.

He went still. This was a thing she never spoke about. “Is that how it is with you? When you think of what might have been?”

She shrugged. “You mean when I think of Thomas, my fiancé? No, not in the way you mean. I did love him,” she said honestly. “He was young and carefree, and so was I. We’d such plans! When he died I didn’t think I could ever love again. More than that, I felt so sorry for him, so guilty I was still here and he wasn’t. So guilty that I hadn’t…” She paused and lowered her lashes. “Hadn’t loved him even more.”

“Your family was right not to send you after him,” Rafe said. “He was right to insist you didn’t accompany him too. A man has his comforts when his woman follows the drum to be near him, but there’s little comfort in it for her. She worries more and grows old before her time. That’s another thing I’ve seen too much of. Army wives wait and fret. They live in tents or rented houses too near the battlefields. They live half a life there, waiting for word of their men, or brief, unsatisfying visits from them. It’s not fair.”

She nodded. “So he said, and so it had to be. But I still regret it. It doesn’t consume me in the way you mean. Not anymore. Time heals that, I suppose. But I thought I was done with thoughts of marrying. I didn’t like the men I met in London and didn’t want to be introduced to any stray men anxious relatives can always be counted on to produce. They usually
have some terrible defect—but a ‘good heart,’ the relatives assure you. That heart invariably comes in a wretched package.”

They laughed over that. “And the local fellows?” Rafe asked.

“They marry early. Those who didn’t, or who became free after, didn’t interest me. I had my family. They mean everything to me. Because of that, I went to India to see to Eric when he got sick. Someone had to be with him, someone to see things got done. How could we leave him alone in a foreign land, unable to care for himself? Even my parents had to agree, though Lord knows we fought about it.”

She shook her head. Rafe’s nostrils flared, scenting the spiced patchouli in her hair. Tonight she’d tied the sleek black mass of it so two soft black wings framed her face on either side; they swayed like billowing curtains in the breeze when she moved her head.

“I knew traveling so far by myself would end any plans for marriage, at least with any local men,” she went on with a sigh. “A woman can follow her husband, but a single woman traveling across continents on her own? It was considered a fast, daring thing to do. I suppose it was. But it was a thing I had to do. When Eric began to get better, I had a chance to look around. The first thing I saw was his friend Spencer. He showed me such kindness. He offered me more. A chance for a family, a future of my own. I didn’t love him, but I did care for him. He said that was enough. I thought it might be.”

“What happened?” Rafe asked quietly. “You don’t have to tell me—no, damme, Bren, but I think you
do! After all, I don’t have any secrets—at least ones of the heart—from you.”

She laid a hand on top of his. His hand turned and swallowed hers up in a firm, warm clasp.

“Yes, you do deserve to know. It’s just that it’s so embarrassing.” She looked into the fire. “It turned out that all the while he was courting me, he was courting another friend’s sister, much less properly. When he told her he had to break it off, she told him she was carrying his child. That was an end to us. Because he did the right thing. They married, immediately. He was an honorable man. And so there you are.”

“Honorable!”
Rafe said, his eyes blazing. “I don’t think so! An honorable fellow doesn’t fool around with a friend’s sister and then break it off when another more desirable female swims into view. It’s a wonder Eric didn’t remove his head for him. I would have.”

“Well,” Bren said, her curved mouth tilting into a true smile, “She
was
bird-witted, and fubsy-faced, and shaped rather sadly…”

“So he was well served.” Rafe laughed in relief. “I see you’re not grieving over the loss of him. Nor should you.”

“No. I discovered that though I was shocked, I wasn’t destroyed. But people felt so sorry for me I could hardly bear it.”

“I’ll be faithful to you,” he said, his hand touching her cheek. “I can’t promise that will bring you great joy. But I can promise I’ll try to see it does.”

He took her into his arms; she went gladly, needing the solid warmth of him now. She got far more.
They kissed. He already kept his word, she thought dazedly. Because his embrace brought her wild joy, a savage, vaunting desire, so intense it worried her. She didn’t love him as she had Thomas. She didn’t know him half so well. She’d felt thrilling things in Tom’s arms. But she and Tom had both been so young and new to their own bodies, and eager to share them. This man knew her needs better than she did.

She was constantly astonished such a plain-spoken fellow could be so skilled and careful in his lovemaking. He’d given up pursuit of his love for her sake. He might be trying to make the best of a bad bargain, but he was making it a peerless one for her. She knew men could make love without love, but she had no idea they could do it so thoroughly. It shamed and embarrassed her that she could respond so utterly. It couldn’t help delighting her too. His touch was gentle but sure. His mouth was knowing; he led her on to heights she’d never considered.

He also knew when to stop, and lately that was before she was ready to. He was so genuinely good, wonderfully attractive, and safe.
Safe?
she thought distantly, as his hand cupped her breast and she caught her shivering breath. Never that. And yet, always that.

She forgot her train of thought as he gently tugged the top of her gown down and his warm opened lips found her breast. He was a man of few words. But he could carry on a long and patient conversation of caresses, building the tension until she was half-mad beneath his hands. She gasped now as his lips closed over the taut tip of her breast. Her head went back;
his mouth left her breast to breathe fiery, silent secrets against her neck. She held on to his hard shoulders and shivered, and squirmed against him.

They sought more, and in a few fevered moments almost found it. But they both drew back at the same moment, shattered, unsatisfied, but old and wise enough to know this was no place to know more.

He sat back. “Not in your drawing room,” he said ruefully. “That would be taking advantage of your family’s hospitality.”

“Not my hospitality?” she asked on a shaken laugh as she dragged her gown up again.

“No,” he said simply, taking her hands in his. “I’d never take advantage of you. I take what you want to give me, Bren. Nothing more. But nothing less. I do look forward to your taking advantage of me, though,” he added with a smile.

She smiled back at him. He reached out and tucked a bit of her hair back. “It won’t be long,” he said softly. “But too long for my control. That’s why I’m going back to London tomorrow.”

She stopped smiling.

“I think it’s better if we part for a while now,” he said, and added more gently, “I’ve things to do. And I don’t want to take advantage of anything here. It would never do for the colonel to find me doing what I most want to do. And Eric’s growing so strong now, I don’t dare!” He grinned.

But she didn’t smile back at him. Another man had left her here, and never returned.