Page 9 of Dare to Risk it All

Lord de Ligne stared at her and let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Hell,” he muttered, and stalked off.

Greer watched him go, feeling far happier than when she’d awoken that morning until she realised what he’d said. He had nowhere else to go. That thought had sympathy swelling inside of her, and she resolved to ensure that this Christmas was one the baron would not soon forget.

Raphe hefted another armful of fir branches and carried them over to the waiting dog cart.

“Is that enough?” he asked Dare, who was eyeing the growing pile with a speculative gaze.

“Almost. I think most of the ladies are heading back to the house now, before they freeze, but Elspeth wants some holly, with berries on,” he added.

Raphe nodded, glad to have something to do. He needed to return to the cottage and carry on removing the old thatch, but this would do for now. Anything to keep himself occupied and away from the beguiling Miss Cadogan. “I can get that, if you want to go with them.”

“Good man. I’ll get that last lot tied on the cart and meet you back at the house. I’ll leave you that hand barrow, shall I?”

Raphe nodded and strode back into the woods. His feet were like ice and his fingers were numb with cold, but it seemed safer to stay outside and freeze his bollocks off. Actually, it seemed like punishment. What the devil had he been thinking earlier? He had once again handled the situation all wrong, and he the notorious ladies’ man! What was wrong with him? Except that she had called him out on his behaviour without so much as batting an eyelid, and that had been as surprising at it had been refreshing. Women did not speak plainly, at least not the ones he dallied with. It was all double meanings and implications, flirtation and games. To have a woman ask him to his face what he was playing at had shocked him more than he wished to admit. It had intrigued him, too. Miss Cadogan was a brave woman—one who played by her own rules, it would seem—and now the wretched creature had made him more curious about her than ever.

Forcing the captivating young woman from his mind with difficulty, Raphe moved quickly, striding through the woods until he found what he was looking for. At last, he tracked down a large holly bush, studded with ruby berries and bristling with sharp green leaves, and carefully began cutting off branches.

“Oh, you found some.” Miss Cadogan’s voice cut through the peace of the woodland and Raphe jolted in surprise as a holly leaf stabbed him viciously through his leather glove, deep into the tender part of his thumb.

“Christ!” he muttered, tugging the glove off and sucking hard at the end of his thumb to ease the pain.

“Here, let me see.”

“It’s your fault I stabbed myself in the first place,” he retorted, aggrieved that his nemesis was here at all. “I thought you’d gone back to the house with the other women.”

“No,” she said, giving him a puzzled glance. “I said I’d stay and find the mistletoe.”

“Of course you did,” Raphe said, wondering if the universe was having a laugh at his expense. He supposed he deserved as much.

“Stop being such a baby and let me see,” she insisted, tugging at his sleeve.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, but allowed her to look at his thumb where a small drop of blood welled on the surface.

“Such a fuss for a little prick,” she said, shaking her head.

Raphe bit his lip, reminded himself sternly that he was a reformed character, and swallowed down the obvious remark bubbling inside him.

“Here.” Tenderly, Miss Cadogan took out her handkerchief and wrapped his thumb in it. With deft fingers, she tied the ends to hold it in place. “All better,” she said, and though there was amusement in her eyes, her tone was soft and worked upon him in an oddly intimate manner, like being stroked with a fur glove.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly, unsettled by the pleasure he’d taken in her attention, and by the craving for more. Nobody ever took care of him. His stepmother couldn’t have cared less, so he’d learned to care for himself. His friends had cared, most recently, by ensuring he didn’t drink himself to death, but their care was of the friendly bullying and manly insults variety. They were hardly tender and sympathetic.

“I’m freezing,” she said, and he noticed her cheeks were bright pink, as was her delightful little nose. If she stayed out here much longer, she’d catch a chill.

“Did you find the mistletoe?”

She nodded and gestured to the basket at her feet, which he’d not noticed before. Raphe eyed the collection of green and white berries and his devilish nature perked up at once, urging him to make use of it. His gaze lifted to her mouth, pink and soft and inviting.

“Right, well….” Raphe cleared his throat. “We’d… er….”

Do it, do it, urged the devil.

“What?” Miss Cadogan asked, gazing up at him.

Her eyes were such a lovely shade of green, like the first glint of springtime, and those thick lashes, a darker shade of gold than her hair. Her skin was like cream, smooth and soft, and he wanted to press his mouth to the sweet place beneath her ear and breathe in the scent of her. She was staring up at him. Waiting. She wouldn’t resist him if he….

Kiss her, you dolt!