Redeeming a Rake (17 page)

“You never said you loved me.”

“Perhaps I didn’t have enough time?” He
stood up and returned to the corner of her desk where he could feel
the full force of her sunlight. “It doesn’t matter; I know I was
planning to ask you to be my duchess. Besides, it’s what any
sensible rake-hell would do after waking up with a cracked skull to
find an angel tending his wounds. I need a duchess and you need
someone to redeem your reputation. A match made in heaven…or
hell, depending on your view.” He took the rolled parchment out of
his coat pocket and pressed it into her numb hands. “Your wish has
been granted. You’ll marry your dearest friend and I’ll save a
fortune on whores.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she dropped
the roll and covered her face. “Come now Angel, rakes don’t do sea
bathing.” He hopped off the desk and pulled her up into his arms.
“I’m right here Angel. I’m going to marry you and restore your
reputation. Everything is going to be sublime.” He smiled with
satisfaction at finally having her in his arms again as he breathed
in the haunting scent of orange blossoms. “I’ll be a good husband…”
He couldn’t resist the temptation of her neck. Feeling her shudder
with pleasure from his kiss made his head spin. He felt her hands
on his waistcoat and sighed with pleasure into her ear, but before
he could taste an earlobe she’d pushed him away. He picked up the
marriage license and hid his hurt feelings by pulling a silver
jewellery case wrapped in a pale blue ribbon out of his pocket and
tossing it onto the desk. “This is for you.”

“I want no payment for nursing you.”

Geoffrey scowled as a painful knot formed in
his stomach. “I found it wrapped up like that in my secret drawer.
It was made for you.” He leaned over and hissed in her ear, “Refuse
it and I’ll give it to the next whore who takes my fancy.”

“How do you know it was made for me? He
never gave me anything like this.”

“Didn’t he?” She was apparently deaf to
sarcasm. Geoffrey scowled as the angel pulled a handkerchief with
his coat of arms out of her pocket and blew her nose. Clenching his
teeth, he watched her untie the ribbon and carefully tuck it away
like a treasure in her apron pocket. Undoing the catch her mouth
fell open as she lifted the lid. His forgotten self had chosen
well. She was visibly stunned by his ruby collection set in-between
aquamarine gemstones in an intricate necklace with matching
earrings.

“You can’t give me this…this isn’t a gift
for a friend.”

He picked up the necklace as if it were
paste and turned it over. “Look! Here on the back it says, ‘May
every ruby remind my tolerant friend that I owe her my life.’” An
awkward silence fell over the room as he watched in bafflement as
emotions flickered over her face. She was remembering the vanished
Geoffrey again. How could she miss him? He was standing right there
with the same arms wanting to hold her. He suddenly needed to drag
her attention back to him, the living man. “Apparently you’ve saved
my life on a number of occasions. There’s certainly no other person
in the world who’d be a tolerant friend to The Devil’s Corpse. Let
me help you put it on.”

“No!”

Clenching his teeth, he inhaled through his
nostrils and tried to subdue his anger. “If I was the Geoffrey who
could remember the last two years…you’d let me drape it around your
throat without a moment’s hesitation, wouldn’t you?” She ignored
him as she reverently positioned the necklace back into the pale
blue velvet lining and closed the lid. “I’m still in the dark as to
why he was riding all over the countryside. Perhaps Madam, you’d be
so kind as to paint me a clear picture of why his most cherished
possession was a list of people he’d sinned against in your
handwriting. I can only imagine he’d utterly lost his min. What
possessed you to listen to me listing my sins? Most women would not
have endured such a confession from a son or husband. My secretary,
Hawkings, says he spent almost two years travelling about the
countryside returning property and money. What the devil is that
all about? I can understand the man being desperate to hold you,
but surely he could have found a less costly route to your
bed?”

“Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Stop talking in the third person as if you
weren’t present.”

“I beg your pardon, I didn’t realise it was
something only you could do. I’m not dead Angel. I’m right here in
the flesh, desperate to see you smile at me the same way you smiled
at him. Shall I pretend that I enjoy being referred to in the third
person? Will it give my courting an edge? What are you crying for?
I’m the one being treated like a dead man. Oh hell…Angel, please
don’t cry…don’t be angry with me.” He pulled her back into his arms
and held her as she watered his waistcoat. Her nearness set in
motion a tidal wave of desire that crashed into his brain and
gushed in torrents through his veins. He felt like a callow youth
in the arms of his first beautiful woman. What was he supposed to
do next? He was torn between falling on his knees and begging her
to marry him or… He was robbed of thought as she rubbed her cheek
across his silk waistcoat and pressed her face into his chest. Was
this what it felt like to be loved? The warm fluffy peace clouding
his brain blew away his anger leaving him feeling young and
euphoric. “Oh Angel,” he pressed his lips against her cheek. “I
feel like I’ve fallen into a vat of sweet wine.” After several long
seconds she lifted her head and stared at his lips. Sunlight filled
the coldest corners of his heart as she accepted his parted lips.
Words bounced around his brain like sunbeams off a shiny surface;
sublime, Elysium, beloved. He reluctantly released her lips, but
her head remained tilted, her eyes closed. She wanted more. He
moaned with pleasure as the raging torrent of desire threatened to
burst his heart as his hands gleefully explored generous
curves.

When he released her lips the second time
she pressed her face against his chest. Debating his options he
knew he had to prove that he could control his lust even if he
didn’t want to. Gently disengaging her arms he stepped back, slowly
kissed the palm of each hand and set her free. Gulping down air he
bashfully smiled as he reclaimed the corner of her desk. He felt
like a leaf on a summer breeze. He was no longer alone in the
world; a beautiful ray of sunshine loved him. He was going to wake
up every morning and make love to an angel. Feeling content he
smiled as he contemplated the immediate future. In a few hours he’d
remove her voluminous gown and for the first time in his life, make
love to a woman who loved him. “I don’t think even my forgotten
self could have kissed you so well, do you?”

“I don’t know. I never kissed him.” His
ecstatic smile slowly dissolved into a sour frown. “They were the
most wonderful kisses Geoffrey. I’ll cherish them.”

Her words implied that she wasn’t planning
to repeat the pleasure. The thought punctured his heart. There was
nothing he could do to staunch the flow of happiness draining away
leaving him once again unloved and enraged. “Do you plan to pluck
me from your life and throw me into the gutter like a piece of
rubbish? Is this your devotion? Is this how you love me?”

She lightly touched his cheek as she shook
her head. “You’re woven into my soul Geoffrey, but you don’t
remember the weaving. You’re a different man. You don’t love me.
You only want to satisfy your lust.”

Geoffrey blinked away liquid pain. “If I
wanted a bed warmer I’d buy one for the night!” Crossing his arms
he tried to cool his growing anger. “I want my Duchess to care
whether I live or die. I want a Duchess who enjoys being held in my
arms, who enjoys my company. I want to be loved. Do I expect too
much?”

“I do love you, but I can’t marry you. You
don’t know me!”

Pale blue eyes hardened into cut gems as his
temper escaped its constraints. “I may not remember the day we met
or all the times you’ve saved my life, but you are mine. Your heart
belongs to me and if you dare give what is mine to any other
man…I’ll kill him. Think twice before you wed some worm. He won’t
live to bed you.”

“I belong to no man Geoffrey Lindsey
Grayson. You will address me with respect or you will leave my
house. If you need any explanation why I can not marry you, you
need only listen to yourself.”

Geoffrey’s anger froze into fear. The frigid
formality of her words stabbed his heart like a jagged icicle.
“Please don’t speak to me in that cold voice. I’m sorry I lost my
temper. I promise I’ll try not to kill my rivals, but please don’t
give me up for dead. Let me show you that I’m the same Geoffrey you
fell in love with. I want you to smile at me the way you smiled at
him. Let me hold you forever. Marry me, be my Duchess.” Hope
bloomed as she turned and looked up at him with a searching gaze.
“I notified my parish Vicar this morning. We can be married within
the hour.” Geoffrey silently cursed his impatient tongue as her
face crumpled.

She shook her head again making him feel
sick. “I can’t marry you, you’re not my Geoffrey.”

“I am!” He thumped her desk sending several
letters floating to the floor. “You know full well that you as good
as betrothed yourself to me when you agreed to correspond. Your
servants either think you secretly engaged or my lover.”

“I agreed to correspond with a friend. You
have no right…”

“I have every right to claim your hand
Tolerance; you love me!”

She winced as if he’d hit her. “Don’t raise
your voice at me Geoffrey, I’m not one of your servants.”

“I don’t need to shout at my servants, they
do as they’re told.”

“That is a pathetic lie. You’re rude,
arrogant and thoughtless to your dependants and I can only imagine
how you’d treat a wife. I’ll not willingly subject myself to a
marriage of thoughtless tyranny unless it becomes my only means of
survival. You are a selfish hardened sinner with no thought for
anyone but yourself. I’m nothing more than an object you wish to
own. I will not become the property of a man incapable of
respecting my person or loving his own children.”

Geoffrey let out a ragged breath as pain
smashed through crusts of filth entombing his heart. He was once
again unwanted and unloved only this time he was rejected by the
only person who’d ever loved him. He swallowed the harsh words
springing to mind and glowered into sad eyes. “Is that your final
word Madam?”

“I love you more than life, but you don’t
know how to love. It would be utter madness. You’d hurt me and I’d
only have myself to blame.”

Her words rang over a still room as
Geoffrey’s rage inflamed the pain in his skull. The sane half of
his brain begged him to leave without another word and return and
try again another day. The injured angry half wanted to lash out
and return the pain. “My friends call me Lyndhurst; you will
address me as Your Grace.”

She stared up at him as if he’d hit her. She
didn’t try to escape as he stood up and gently captured her face
in-between his hands. His soft slow kiss held her salty lips
captive until he felt her succumb to his touch and her hands
reached for him. He abruptly pushed her away and fished a hand into
his pocket. A silver shilling dropped onto her desk with a soft
chink and rolled off the wood onto the floor. “I believe that’s the
going rate for a kiss.”

She swayed as the blood drained from her
face. “Leave and don’t return until you’ve purchased some
manners.”

Pain flooded Geoffrey’s senses. He was being
banished. Lonely months stretched into the horizon. He opened his
mouth to tell beg her forgiveness, but Graysons didn’t beg. He
could only feel horror at what he was saying and continue blindly
towards the edge of the cliff. “Are you sure a larger coin wouldn’t
purchase a few minutes in your bed, Madam?” Geoffrey blanched from
pain as her hand struck his cheekbone with force.

“Leave!”

“As you wish Madam; you know where I sleep
if you change your mind.”

“Get out of my house.” He clenched his fists
and strode from the room leaving his heart behind him on the
floor.

Geoffrey stormed into his ancient narrow
house past by the strange yellow parlour with the sun clock and
headed for the only corner of the world still familiar. He stepped
into his study and scowled at the ever present ghost of his
forgotten self. “Howarrrrd, my study!” He poured himself a large
glass of port with shaking hands as the shuffling steps of the old
Butler caught up with him. “Shut the door Howard.” The old man
waited patiently as he watched his master pace back and forth with
his glass. “You’ve known me a long time…”

“Eighteen years Your Grace.”

“I’m going to ask you a question and I don’t
wish to be fobbed off with the usual servile platitudes.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

“Would you say I’m a rude, thoughtless
tyrant? I want the truth.” The servant took a deep audible breath.
“Well?”

“Some might use those words to describe you,
Your Grace.”

Geoffrey scowled in disbelief. It wasn’t
what he wanted to hear. “I know my mother would use them. As one
who’s known me intimately for years, would you say that I’m a
tyrant?”

“If I give notice this instant, will I still
receive a good reference Your Grace?”

“Am I that bad?”

“You had improved greatly over the last two
years Your Grace.”

“How?”

“You started saying please and thank you
quite regularly, and hardly ever threw things. You’d sometimes ring
the bell when you needed help instead of shouting and would often
give advance notice that you’d need your carriage or if you wished
to dine at home. You even let us go to bed by ten most nights.”

“Are you saying I’m a thoughtless tyrant?”
Geoffrey watched in disbelief as the old man cringed.