Page 153 of A Perilous Passion

Thankfully, a question had been gnawing away at her for hours. His answer should provide a solid distraction. “Perhaps you’d like to explain why you’ve taken to robbing folk on the highway?”

He smiled. “A ruse, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. I needed to deter people from being on the heath, so no innocent bystander would be harmed if I, or the militia, had to shoot down the free traders. I’d also hoped to deter the smugglers, but a single bandit on the road means nothing to such determined villains.”

“I suppose not,” she mused.

“Disguising myself as a high toby was another way of concealing my identity. If the free traders knew the Earl of Beckport was after them, my friends, my family, and even my servants would be in peril of reprisal. It would have made me vulnerable. I’d have no way to earn back the respect of Society.”

She leaned forward and said earnestly, “After all you’ve already done? You are more than worthy of anyone’s respect.”

“Ah, but have I achieved anything?” he asked. “All I’ve done is fail to stop a spy and a cargo of contraband, and fail to prevent a soldier’s death. Then to cap it all, I took a ball in the leg, and possibly alerted the traitor that his plot has been discovered.”

“Not if Culverdale believes he’s been attacked by a common highwayman.”

“But how will he interpret the behavior of yourself and your maid?”

She wrinkled her brow. “Maybe he’ll think we were in collusion, to act as a distraction.”

He said firmly, “I won’t have him think you’re my accomplices. God knows what he might do to you.”

It was an alarming thought she didn’t want to explore. “I’ve every confidence you’ll have him hanged before he can harm us,” she said. “Besides, I don’t think he knew who I was. When we danced at Dorchester I was masked, and in the coach, we gave him false names.”

A rich, throaty laugh erupted from Rafe, sending delicious shivers up her spine. “Clearly, I’ve underestimated you. Had we more spies with your skills, Napoleon wouldn’t stand a chance. I apologize for not recognizing your true worth.”

She felt a wash of embarrassed pride. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Not at all. I’m quite certain Culverdale was aiming at my head. If it weren’t for your prompt action, I’d be lying dead in Fox Wood with my brains blown out. And if you hadn’t identified him as the likely ringleader, I was planning to use myself as bait to draw the fellow out. Which, had things not gone to plan, might have resulted in me languishing in some cellar being tortured.”

The horrible image this presented made her blanch and swallow hard. With trembling hand, she helped herself to a glass of Rafe’s water. “Well, I’m glad you avoided that terrible fate.”

“As am I. I owe you much, Miss Charlotte Allston,” he murmured.

His dark eyes watched her from the bed, scrutinizing every movement. She suddenly felt intensely aware of her inappropriately intimate attire: her bare feet, her hair loosely plaited down her back, her nakedness beneath her nightgown.

He’d thrust her away at their last meeting, trying to deny the mutual attraction that had exploded like a mortar shell between them. But his intense gaze now belied those actions.

“Stop staring at me,” she ordered briskly.

“I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

She pressed her lips together. “You’ve had too much physick. It’s dulled your senses.”

“On the contrary. It’s heightened them. If it weren’t for the danger—and the secrets—that keep us apart, I’d offer for you right here and now.”

She gasped in surprise. “Stop. You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” His eyes held hers, and something responded in her womb—a sensation that was warm, enticing, and eager. This man affected her like no other—not even Justin—simply by looking at her, promising all kinds of pleasurable new experiences with just his gaze.

Her cheeks heated. Her whole body heated.

Suddenly, the events of this turbulent day didn’t seem so dreadful, after all. She was alone with a man who fascinated her, and he was very much alive, looking more devilishly handsome in his disheveled state than he did when appropriately dressed.

The flicker of desire in her belly suddenly took flame, and she was grateful she was sitting down, as her knees would have failed her. Images of his mouth on her breasts that day behind the laurel bush swamped through her. The remembered touch of Rafe’s lips replaced any hurt she’d felt at being sent away.

She met his eyes and saw in them the knowledge of what she was feeling.

“Come here,” he murmured.

She shouldn’t.