Heaven Scent (6 page)

Tarin moved within a foot of Rafe, her
scent overwhelming him like a dust storm. She made a production of
studying his face closely, grazing over the blade’s scar on his
forehead, her eyes zeroing in on the disfigurement on his
cheek.

Rafe’s heart pounded like a herd of
mustangs. What the hell was she doing?

When her incredibly full, lush mouth
moved to within inches of his, Rafe thought he was going to fall
dead. He backed away.

“
Surely a man of your
history does not consider such…
scratches
actual scars?”

Scratches?!

Patrick laughed aloud.

“You have no idea what I went through
to get these," Rafe said in his own defense.

“No, I don’t,” she agreed lowly, her
eyes soft. “Do tell.”

Hell. He'd fallen into her trap like a
bee to honey. Everyone in Boston wondered how he’d gotten
injured.

She was a sly one.

But not as sly as he.

“I’ll tell you - right after you tell
me where you’re going this evening.”

Her eyes widened as she
ducked her head quickly. Rafe grinned to himself. So, Tarin
was
up to no good. Not
exactly a surprise.

Lifting her chin, she stared at Rafe
dead on. “I am going to visit an ill neighbor.”

Uh, huh. Rafe gave her a raised
eyebrow.

“Oh really?” Patrick asked. “Who is
that?”

Tarin turned to him. “Mrs. Winthrop.
Her arthritis has her bedridden.”

“Please pass on our family’s well
wishes,” Patrick said, with a slight frown. “It is good of you to
visit her.”

“Where is your escort?” Rafe demanded,
his arms crossed over his chest.

Tarin lifted her chin higher. “I do not
need an escort,” she replied, with a dismissive wave. “I am just
traveling down the block.”

“It’s just as dark down the block as it
is across the city. A lady should not travel alone at
night.”

Her green eyes darkened, but her voice
remained calm. “I do so every week, Rafe.”

Rafe? He liked the sound of his
Christian name on her lips. His stance softened.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It isn’t
safe.”

Mimicking him, she crossed her arms
over her chest and gave him a small smile. “There are gas lamps
along the walk. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to see Mrs.
Winthrop - alone.” She turned to go.

Rafe grabbed her arm. She gasped, her
eyes wide when she whipped her head around.

“Patrick, tell Worthington I’ll be
right back. I’m going to walk Tarin to the Winthrops.”

His brother smothered a grin. "Will
do."

While she didn’t fight him, Rafe did
have to drag Tarin out the door. Her brilliant green eyes blazed
with anger.

“I see Patrick received all of the
charm in the family,” she huffed.

“Yes.” Rafe placed her arm through his
and covered it with his hand so she couldn’t snatch it
away.

Her posture regal, Tarin’s eyes stared
straight ahead as he led them up the cobblestone walk. With a
steady flush in her cheeks, she ignored him like a spoiled princess
ignored a servant.

He chuckled. Tarin
did
not
like her
independence threatened.

“Do you find something
amusing?”

Rafe held out his hand, palm up. “I’m
simply laughing at the idea of being alive. It’s nice to take a
walk down a quiet street with a beautiful woman on my arm. The moon
is full, the weather is perfect, and I’ve got a bottle of good
tequila waiting back at your house. Right now, life is
good.”

Rafe felt her gaze on him a long moment
before she pulled closer. The side of her breast brushed against
his arm, creating a riot of tingling nerves along his
side.

“That is a very profound statement for
a rough and wild Texas Ranger.”

Grinning, Rafe clutched at his chest.
“You wound a man who looks out for your safety?”

“Because I know that arrogant exterior
is tougher than shoe leather.” She smiled. “But I do have to admit,
you make an excellent escort.”

“And you’re no less independent than
when we left the house.”

Silence was her response to Rafe’s
barb. He wanted to get it through her head that safety and
independence were two completely different issues. And to have
independence without safety was foolish.

Rafe nodded at a couple passing by.
“Why don’t you enlist your footman to escort you?”

Sighing, Tarin stared down at the walk
when she spoke. “He stays out with father most
evenings.”

“Then send a post and I will escort you
wherever you want to go.”

Her gaze shot to his and held. “You are
far too busy…”

Rafe stopped in his tracks. “I will
make time, Tarin.”

The lamp at the edge of the Winthrop’s
walk cast a soft glow over her face, her skin like velvet in the
flame. If Rafe were his former self, he would waste no time in
stealing a kiss from her full, juicy lips.

But he was different now and Tarin was
as near to perfect as he had ever seen.

“Thank you,” she said
softly.

Reaching the Winthrop stoop, Rafe gave
her a brief nod before knocking on the door. “I will be back for
you in one hour.”

Frowning, she shook her head. “That is
much too soon. Perhaps three.”

Three hours with Mrs. Winthrop? At
seven o‘clock in the evening? The woman was old when Rafe left ten
years ago. She wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes open for two, he
had no doubt.

Something wasn’t right. But rather than
give himself away now, he’d return early and see what he
found.

Nodding, Rafe handed her over to the
wide-eyed butler when he answered the door. “Three hours it is,
Lady Worthington. Have a pleasant evening.”

Rafe groaned when he threw away a card
he meant to keep. Dammit, the more he thought about it, the more
convinced he was that Tarin was hiding something.

The grandfather clock in Worthington’s
study showed he had an hour before Tarin expected him. He would
leave at half past to make sure he arrived early.

All the facts added up. The surprised
look on the Winthrop butler’s face, the dark cape Tarin wore in the
warm weather, the length of time she wanted to visit. Not to
mention, the sly intelligence she had at her disposal. Yes, Lady
Tarin Worthington was up to something, his gut told him
so.

His gut was never wrong.

Rafe threw down his cards. He hadn’t
played worth a damn since he really started to worry about her.
What reason could she have for being out alone at night? He’d
mulled it over for hours now and could come up with only one
solution.

She had a lover.

Tarin was certainly independent enough
to live such a lifestyle, and damn, she was very passionate about
her interests.

Rafe had no doubt the woman would enjoy
herself in bed.

His blood pumped faster.
Hell.

“What bothers you, brother?” Patrick
asked, as he shuffled the cards.

Rafe’s gaze shot to Henry.

“I suppose he is impatient to talk
business,” Henry baldly stated, as he sipped his tequila. “I had a
visit from Kent today.” He eyed them both. “You know he has an
interest in Tarin.“

Patrick nodded as Rafe’s gut twisted.
Was Tarin with Kent now? Kent was twice her age and an opium user,
Rafe was certain. He’d had to twice decline Kent’s offer for the
drug when he first came to town.

Could Tarin be interested in someone
like that? Kent did support her cause.

Good God, Rafe didn’t even want to
contemplate it.

“Kent also told me he’s got his eye on
your business,” Henry said, as he glanced at them over the top of
his glasses. “He’s waiting for you to get desperate enough to
sell.”

Patrick flopped back in his chair with
a sigh. Rafe leaned forward to give Henry a hard stare.

“That bastard will be waiting on his
death bed for that day,” he declared. “Any business would go
through hard times after the loss of its owner. I’m here to help
Patrick get Sutherland Shipping back on track and make it stronger
than ever. And we will.” He pointed his finger at Henry. “You can
count on it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Henry said,
“because Hunter has not impressed me for a long time now. I need a
shipper I can count on.”

Patrick sat forward in his chair and
folded his arms on the table. “Is there anything we can do to
assure you that using Sutherland Shipping is a profitable move? Our
company has a good reputation and is one of the largest on the east
coast.”

Henry’s gaze was on Rafe when he spoke.
“Yes Patrick, I have followed your father and his company closely.
I am well aware of his success. What I question is whether you two
have inherited his talent for business.”

Patrick stiffened before glancing at
Rafe.

Worthington was a conceited ass, Rafe
decided. If Worthington was going to play tough, so was
he.

“Do you allow Tarin to roam the streets
at night often?”

Henry stilled, his eyes narrowing on
Rafe. “How dare you speak of her like she was some common street
tart.”

“Henry, Rafe didn’t mean – “

“Rafe, I learned a long time ago that
my daughter is going to do whatever she wants to do, regardless of
what I tell her.”

Rafe sincerely hoped it was the tequila
talking and he had not just heard Worthington’s general policy on
Tarin’s comings and goings.

“Surely, you jest,
Worthington?”

Henry’s stare turned hard.

Good God, he wasn’t kidding. Rafe
clenched his jaw.

“You give far too much credit to the
criminals and rakes of Boston, Worthington. One could easily learn
her habits and wait for her one night. I thought you had more
sense.”

Patrick groaned aloud and mumbled “not
again” under his breath.

“She only went next door,” Henry cried.
“But a few feet away.”

The man was a fool. “If your daughter
is as independent as you say, what makes you think she wouldn’t
wander without your knowledge?”

“Tarin has more sense than that,”
Patrick added.

Rafe heard the front door open, then
murmured voices. Tarin’s scent and her light footsteps announced
her arrival home.

He glanced at the clock. She was fifty
minutes early. Tarin had purposely given Rafe the three hour mark
to keep him from knowing her whereabouts. He cursed
mentally.

Damn, she’d outsmarted him.

“See,” Henry said. “She is none the
worse for wear, and home earlier than expected.”

Rafe nodded towards the door. “Call her
in here, Worthington.”

“Why?” Henry asked, sitting up in his
chair.

“To prove a point.” Rafe dared him to
refuse.

Henry sighed as he sat back in his
chair and called out to his daughter.

“Yes, Father?” she asked, entering the
room.

Her gaze scanned the table, taking in
the empty bottle of tequila and the lack of coin in front of Rafe.
She arched an eyebrow at him before leaning down to kiss her father
on the cheek.

“Did you have a pleasant visit with
Mrs. Winthrop?” Henry asked.

“Yes,” she replied, sitting
on the arm of Henry’s chair. “She sent back your copy of the
Iliad
. She said it was
splendid and helped pass the hours.”

Henry gave Rafe an I-told-you-so glare.
Rafe glanced at the bottom of Tarin’s dress, then back at Henry. He
gave a slight nod towards the hem.

Caked with mud. The Winthrop home was
just down the cobblestone walk. Not a mud puddle in sight. Rafe’s
eyes met Henry’s and held.

“Tarin,” Henry said, as he looked up at
his daughter. “Would you ask Cook to send in some of that blueberry
pie?”

“Of course.” With a smile, Tarin
released a breath. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

Henry shook his head as Rafe leaned
back in his seat. “Now you have proven my daughter
lies.”

“No, she just fails to disclose what
will upset you. She’s an intelligent woman.”

“She needs to be confined to the
house,” Henry declared, under his breath.

“No,” Rafe said as a plan formed in his
head, “she needs to learn first hand what can happen to a woman who
wanders out alone at night.”

Elbow on the table, Henry pointed a
finger at Rafe. “You are mad if you believe I would purposely
endanger my daughter.”

“Of course not,” Rafe replied, crossing
his arms over his chest. “Let me follow her one night. I will teach
her a lesson she will never forget.” He sat forward and added, “And
then, you can give us a trial run on one of your
shipments.”