Page 34 of A Perilous Passion

Her eyes widened. “Is that what you’re doing? Seducing me? Then it’s true, you are a rake.”

He tucked the nostrum away and took her by the shoulders, his face so close she could see the moon reflected in his eyes. “No longer,” he said. “If I were, I’d have already found my way into your bed and made you mine. Believe me when I say I simply meant to talk with you, but having you so close drove out all rational thought.”

“Such arrogance, to assume I’d have let you! You quite clearly are still a rake.”

To her irritation, he chuckled softly. “So you would deny me? When a minute ago you were swooning in my arms? You felt it just as I did—the irresistible attraction between us that’s been there from the first. Don’t try to refute it.”

She straightened indignantly. “I was perfectly in control of myself. I was just…experimenting.” Her hand itched to slap him, but that would be too much like the reaction of an outraged young miss, not the considered response of a grown woman.

And she very much wished to appear to him as a woman, not a girl; though, she couldn’t have explained why it mattered so much.

He smiled and caught her gently beneath the chin. “If you were truly in control just now, then you’d make any man a splendid mistress. Keep your pride, Charlotte—I would never wish to hurt it. Forgive me if you can—I couldn’t help myself. It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you, and I regret more than words can say that this will probably be the last time. I’ll make one last attempt to secure my present quarry, then, alas, I’ll be reassigned.”

Her head reeled. No. This was all wrong. She was meant to be bidding him good-bye, not the other way round.

She blurted out, “Will you not just return to your estates and take up your old life again?”

“Not until this wretched war is over, and who can say when that will be? For now, I am not my own man and must follow orders. But before I go, let me tell you, that callow youth you wanted to run away with wasn’t worthy of you. You need an experienced hand to hold your ribbons, not that of a novice. Good night, my sweet.”

With a brief brush of her lips, he slipped away from her into the night, leaving her gaping after him.

She leaned back against the solid wall of the house and gazed up at the moon, sucking in breath after breath of cool air. Her body still thrummed like someone striking a chord on the pianoforte, while someone else’s fingers played pizzicato with her nerves. It took a while before she could trust her legs again.

Eventually she heaved away from the wall, let herself back into the house, and resisted the urge to run straight into the kitchen and break things.

Confound the man! He’d played her like a master, taking just what he wanted. He’d made her look a fool for responding to him so ardently, then said his farewell with an infuriating calm and strode off.

“God be damned to all men,” she muttered as she slipped back upstairs. Rafe, like Justin, had turned her world upside down. But unlike Justin, he’d left her of his own free will.

Which made the hurt all the greater.

Surely, it was the cruelest thing of all, to ignite a woman’s passion and then just say good-bye? Only a hard-hearted rake would do such a thing. Assuming Rafe had any heart, at all.

It was just as well they weren’t to meet again, as she couldn’t be responsible for her actions if they did.

Chapter Fifteen

How had Rafe let the woman get under his skin so easily?

They’d barely met a handful of times, yet his body craved Charlotte like a furnace starved of air. Truth be told, his heart was not safe, despite the wall of resolve he’d built around it after leaving the army. It was a wrench to leave her, but leave he must.

Still, there might be another time, another chance, in the future, if only he could keep his skin whole for the remainder of this blasted mission…and those to come. Lord knew when the war would end. Bonaparte was a formidable enemy, and lately France had been in a desperate state, making the pompous little tyrant all the more determined to consolidate his position.

The memory of Charlotte’s kiss swept his gloomy thoughts away in an instant, and his heart sped up. She was a well of sweetness, her lips the nectar of the gods, her skin like silken flame—and the memory of her breasts in his hands ignited a wildfire in his veins that had him gasping for breath.

Self-control. Whatever had happened to his? And the manners of a gentleman—had he forgotten those, too? One simply did not take advantage of untutored young ladies. Not even willing ones.

Especially not willing ones.

But what an absolute delight it was to be with her. She refused to be cowed by him, she had no fear of voicing her own opinions, and she’d dealt with his wayward behavior without fainting away or erupting in fury. Most women of his acquaintance would have done one or the other, had he thrown himself on top of them—twice—or climbed a creeper into their bedroom in the dead of night.

She was truly admirable, desirable, and lovable—and, yes, an enormous risk to his heart.

“Halt! Declare yourself. I’m an officer of His Majesty.”

He pulled up short, reaching automatically for his pistols.

As a lantern was shoved into his eyes, the voice advised, “Keep your hands where I can see them, if you please. My companion has a rifle cocked and ready, and I’ve just lit you up as a target.”