Page 16 of Dare to Risk it All

Raphe’s heart immediately began an agitated dance behind his ribs, worsening as he turned to see Miss Cadogan bearing down on him. She was carrying a basket with a folded blanket draped over it. The lovely creature wore a gown of deep red with a matching velvet pelisse robe. Her blonde hair was arranged in long ringlets about her face and her bonnet was tied under her chin with matching red ribbons. More ribbons, fashioned into small bows, marched down the front of her dress and fluttered as she walked, giving the impression of butterfly wings. To Raphe she looked like a freshly wrapped present, ready for him to undo. With one tug, the ribbons on her bonnet would come untied and he could cast it aside as he had done days earlier and take that sweet pink mouth and… Stop it, you devil!

“Miss Cadogan; This is a surprise,” Raphe said, trying with all his might to remember the promise he’d made himself and Lord Rothborn to keep his bloody hands off her.

“Is it?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. “You have been avoiding me for well over a week, my lord. I get a little polite conversation at dinner and then you run away again. Surely you cannot be surprised if I take the bull by the horns and track you down.”

No. He wasn’t surprised. He was glad, damn him. Hell, he’d been waiting, hoping, praying she would do so. Raphe drank in the sight of her, feeling something ease in his chest at having her near. No, that was ridiculous. He couldn’t have missed her. For one, he saw her every night, staring like a starving dog at a butcher’s window. It was lust, that was all. It was impossible to become attached to someone so quickly. Belatedly, he remembered he was filthy and dressed in old clothes Dare had dug out for him to work in. He must look a fright. Well, probably for the best. Hopefully it would put her off.

“What’s that you have there?” he asked, knowing he ought to get rid of her but finding himself unable to do so.

“A picnic,” she said, grinning at him. “Lord Roxborough said you’d had no lunch, so I went to the kitchen and asked them to make up a basket. There’s a slice of game pie—which was delicious, I might add—some bread and cheese, an apple, cake, and a bottle of beer.”

“A feast,” he remarked, wishing he could cast the basket aside and feast on her instead. The urge to reach for her was an itch he dare not scratch.

“Where shall we sit?” she asked, looking about her for a place.

“We shan’t sit anywhere,” he said firmly, determined to do the right thing for once in his sorry life. Rothborn would not be disappointed in him again. “It was kind of you to bring the basket, but you can leave it with me and return to the house now.”

“Not on your life,” she said, hugging the basket to her chest. “If you want to eat, you’ll have to endure my company.”

“Then I suppose I’ll go hungry,” he replied coolly.

“Oh, don’t be difficult, Raphe,” she complained, exasperated.

The sound of his given name on her lips sent an unexpected sensation of pleasure lancing through him, for it was as if she had claimed him as her own.

He did not let her know how much he enjoyed hearing her address him so intimately, though, instead retreating into the safety of being a pompous ass. “That’s Lord de Ligne to you.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, looking so deliciously naughty he wanted to put her over his knee and spank her, which really was not a helpful image to have in his head.

“Oh, please. I’ve not spoken to you alone for so long,” she said, and he saw hurt in her eyes now.

Damnation. How was he supposed to resist such an appeal? It would upset her if he refused again and he could not bear to turn her away, not when he wanted her company so badly. It was only lunch, after all. What harm could it do? He could behave himself for an hour, couldn’t he? He was a man, not a mindless animal. The restless devil that lurked in his soul was suspiciously quiet on the subject, but he decided not to worry about it. He could do this.

“All right, then,” he said, ensuring he sounded begrudging, for he could not let her know how much he craved her nearness.

She beamed at him, and the sensation was akin to being hit in the chest by something heavy, winding him.

Raphe went to the water butt and rinsed his hands and face. The freezing liquid stung his skin but helped calm his erratic pulse a bit. He gestured for her to follow him behind the cottage, where it was out of the wind and in full sun now, making a pleasant place to sit even on a chill December day. Greer followed him and he watched with mixed feelings as she lay the blanket down and sat upon it.

“Well, come on then,” she urged, patting the space beside her.

Just pretend you’re a gentleman, he told himself, trying not to think about tumbling her onto her back and making love to her. Taking care to sit on the farthest edge of the blanket, he waited while she made him a plate of food.

“There,” she said, handing it to him. “You need to eat if you’re going to work so hard.”

He snorted at that.

“What?” she asked. “Dare said you’ve worked like a Trojan.”

Raphe shrugged, feeling uncomfortable, though he was uncertain why. He took a large bite of the pie she’d given him, so he didn’t have to answer.

“You enjoy physical activity?”

He shot her an accusing look, wondering if she was flirting with him and hated himself when he saw it had been an innocent question. It was only him with the dirty mind.

“I’ve enjoyed helping,” he admitted. “Makes me feel useful.”

Greer nodded. “Yes, it must be difficult for titled gentlemen who are unsuited to indolence. Society has such stupid rules. Papa ignores them, of course. He does all sorts he ought not, though having an earl for a brother helps, and being friends with the Duke of Bedwin. We’re not good ton, though,” she added with a grin. “Not that we want to be. Good heavens, life is dull enough without having to live up to their ridiculous standards.”