Scoundrel (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 4) (11 page)

Still though, he was being pummeled by the worst masculine urges. How did she stir them? Why did he let her? Was it because she was a nun? Was it because she was alone and in trouble? Was it because she was so damned beautiful and he’d always been a sucker for a pretty face?

He dipped down and kissed her, just a brief brush of his lips to her own. She was startled by the move, and he was startled too. He didn’t even like her. Why bother? She’d only chastise and complain.

“Mr. Hubbard,” she scolded, proving him right. “Please! Remember who I am.”

“I remember who you are, but why are you on a path to becoming a nun? It’s obvious you’ll never take your vows. You’ve had enough time to consider, but you haven’t forged ahead.”

“I’ve had my reasons for delaying.”

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

“You know what I think, Faith?”

“What?”

“You can’t proceed because you’ve figured out that you made a bad decision, and you’re too proud—or too foolish—to retract it.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I also think it’s ridiculous to lock yourself away behind a convent’s walls. You’re a woman who should be kissed regularly and soundly.”

“And I think
you
are mad.”

“I am. I always have been. Ask anyone who knows me.”

She hadn’t pushed him away, hadn’t kicked him in the shins or shouted for help, which was a very good sign.

He kissed her again, and this time he didn’t restrain himself. He slid an arm around her waist, lifting her so her toes brushed the marble tiles. He kissed her fully and passionately and deliberately. He reveled as if he was going to the gallows in the morning, and though it was peculiar, the longer he kept on, the more impossible it was to stop. He didn’t want to ever stop.

Here she is! Finally!

The message rang in his mind, a joyous cacophony that was all jumbled with feelings of shock, contentment, consternation, and amazement. He felt as if he’d been waiting for her without being aware that he had been.

What was driving him? What was he hoping to achieve?

She hadn’t protested or yanked away, and as he gradually slowed and their lips parted, she was frowning. She seemed overwhelmed by the same swirl of conflicting emotions—shocked but thrilled, aghast but delighted—and wondering why she’d allowed such a liberty, why she’d participated so gleefully.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured.

“I couldn’t resist.”

“
I
shouldn’t have done it either.”

“It’s just kissing, Faith. There’s no harm in it.”

Yet even as he voiced the comment, he was certain it was a lie. Something strange had happened between them. He was viewing her in a whole new light, and she was studying him with extreme disquiet and even a bit of alarm, as if it had dawned on her that she liked him more than she should.

“You were with a servant this afternoon,” she pointed out, “and now you’re with me.”

“I’m a man, remember? I have loose morals.”

“I don’t. I assumed I had more self-respect, especially after I saw you today. I’m not like her.”

“I realize you’re not.”

“But you were eager to kiss me anyway.”

“I told you I like it.”

He traced a finger across her lips, sensation jolting him. He was a hairsbreadth away from picking her up and carrying her to his bed. What was wrong with him? He felt nearly bewitched.

He wanted to make promises he would never keep, to offer aid he would never supply, to swear a loyalty he would never display. He physically shook himself, forcing away the unusual yearnings.

“I need to leave,” she said, “and continue on to Scotland.”

At the announcement, he suffered the most absurd surge of panic. “How can you without some assistance?”

“When I first arrived, I asked if you could help me, but you refused. You know me better now, so I ask you again. Could you help me?”

“Do you imagine I kissed you and abruptly grew gallant and honorable? Or that I stumbled into a fortune?”

“No. I simply thought you might be more inclined.”

“I’m not.” She flinched as if he’d slapped her, and he added, “I don’t mean to be cruel, but I don’t have the resources.”

“I understand.”

“I had some money, Faith, on the ship, but I lost it when the pirates threw us overboard.”

It had been blood money too, received as payment for Chase’s worst transgression ever. He’d betrayed his friend Bryce, had imperiled Bryce’s beloved Katarina and her siblings. He’d done it for a Judas-bag of gold coins. He often suspected Fate had taken back that gold to punish him for his hideous conduct.

“Have you written to England to inform others of your plight?” she inquired.

“I penned a letter to my sister, but I haven’t heard from her, and I can’t guess if I ever will.”

“Would she send funds?”

“I suppose she would. She married into a wealthy family, so I expect she could afford it.”

“Then you’d sail for London?”

“I might or I might not. I’m happy here, and I’m not eager to depart. As I’ve mentioned, there’s nothing for me in England. Why wouldn’t I stay? You’ve seen what it’s like.”

“England is your home.”

He shrugged. “I don’t miss it.”

She nodded. “I appreciate your being honest with me.”

She looked so miserable, as if he’d dashed her last hope, and he felt horrid for disappointing her. “I can’t be your savior, Faith. Even if I could aid you, you shouldn’t rely on me. I could never be the man you need.”

“Why must you always denigrate yourself?”

“I’m an untrustworthy reprobate, and I’ve never had any reason to change.”

“I’m not sufficiently acquainted with you to know if that’s true.”

“It is,” he insisted.

“I have to move on. I’ve dawdled too long already. I’ll head to town tomorrow to seek assistance there.”

“You shouldn’t.”

He’d witnessed African dangers first hand when Bryce had been sold to slavers, when Chase and Valois had had to rescue him. Bryce had been so ill-used during the misadventure that he’d nearly died, and he was a burly, strapping fellow who’d vehemently fought for his life and freedom.

In a similar situation, what chance would Faith have against criminals? She was mad to discount Chase’s warnings.

“What other option is there?” she asked.

“Write to your convent in Scotland, then wait for a reply.”

He couldn’t believe he’d suggested the idea and was disturbed to be jolted by a little thrill at the notion of her tarrying for an extended period.

“That could take months,” she complained.

“Yes, it could.”

She assessed him, her gaze casually ambling down his torso. He could tell she was thinking what he was thinking, that a remarkably erotic, but totally sinful and wicked bond would be created if she stayed.

“I have to get to town,” she ultimately said. “I
have
to.”

“With the girls and Rowena? You’d drag them off to uncertainty? Why would you when you can remain with me where it’s safe.”

“I hate to seem ungracious, but I don’t view you as being safe.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know precisely what I mean.”

She started off, and he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t leave the villa, Faith.” He sounded as if he was begging. “You really shouldn’t. You’ll be placing yourself in such jeopardy.”

“I have to go, Mr. Hubbard.”

“It’s hazardous out there. You haven’t a clue of the risks you’ll face.”

“Perhaps not, but I have to travel on to Scotland. I can’t linger. You can, but I can’t.”

“Just…don’t leave in the morning. Let me talk it over with Ralston. He’s so clever. He might be able to devise a solution.”

“I can’t,” she said. “It’s simply not possible.”

He pulled her to him and stole another kiss. More firmly, he repeated, “Don’t go in the morning. Give me some time to work out a plan.” Then he said what he rarely said to anyone. “Please?”

He searched her eyes, and she must have observed something that reassured her. She sighed. “All right. I’ll stay. But not forever.”

“Well, I don’t intend to stay forever either, but I’ll call it a victory.”

“I don’t know what I’d call it, but not a victory. You’ll still have a house of unwelcome female guests.”

“Maybe I want you here a tad more than I realized.”

“I doubt that very, very much.”

She scoffed and kept on.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I remember it being much bigger.”

“I hardly remember it at all.”

Faith stared down at the port town, but she couldn’t recall its name. It had been mentioned to her many times, but it wasn’t a word she could pronounce, and she’d never committed it to memory.

She, Rowena, and the girls were up on a hill, about to descend into the dusty streets that led around a curved bay to the docks. There were a half-dozen ships in the harbor, but they were too far away to make out any flags, so she couldn’t tell if any of them were British.

“So…we’re here.” Rowena’s tone was snide and furious. “What now?”

“Now, we look for someone who’ll aid us.”

“We didn’t have much luck before.”

“We didn’t actually try. When we were released from quarantine, we heard there was an Englishman out at the villa and we went to find him.”

“He’s still there. We could go back. We’d be there by nightfall.”

“We’re not going back.”

Faith glared at Rowena, and Rowena mulishly glared too.

Earlier that morning, Faith had awakened Rowena and announced their departure. For an hour or two, she’d truly believed that Rowena would refuse to accompany her. It was the three girls that had persuaded her. Faith was taking them to Scotland whether Rowena liked it or not, and Rowena hadn’t wished to be separated from them.

That’s why she’d ultimately agreed. It wasn’t the fact that they needed to get home, that they had responsibilities there, that they didn’t belong in Africa and shouldn’t linger in a decadent mansion with two bachelors who were up to no good.

It had boiled down to Faith leaving with the children.

She and Rowena had had a vicious fight over it, with Faith eventually daring her to remain at the villa, to throw her life away over Ralston Robertson.

Rowena had convinced herself that Mr. Robertson would rescue her from the convent. But how a fellow with nothing—not even a suit of clothes—could do that precisely was a question she couldn’t answer.

Rowena had left with Faith, but she was angry about it, and she’d nagged the whole way.

Faith wanted to shake her, wanted to slap her, wanted to say,
Don’t you think I’m scared too? Don’t you think I’d have liked to loaf at the villa? Don’t you think I’d have liked to toss off my woes? To live like a nomad? Like a gypsy?

It was the difference between Rowena and Faith. Faith took her vows and her duties seriously while Rowena deemed it all a big joke.

Mary tugged on Faith’s skirt.

“I still don’t understand why we had to leave the villa, Sister Faith.”

“We have to continue on to Scotland, Mary. I explained it to you.”

“Yes, but Mr. Hubbard was so grand, and Mr. Robertson was so kind. Why couldn’t we have stayed?”

“They couldn’t help us,” Faith said. “I begged, but they couldn’t.”

Rowena butted in with, “If you’d given them a bit more time, they might have surprised us.”

“Trust me. Mr. Hubbard wouldn’t have surprised me at all.”

“You just didn’t want us to be happy,” Rowena complained.

“I didn’t…
what?
” Faith fumed.

“We were happy, weren’t we, girls?” Rowena glanced at the three cherubs and they all nodded. “See, Faith? We were happy, but you weren’t, so you had to wreck it.”

They were next to a palm tree, where there was a sliver of shade, and she pointed to it. “Would you girls sit for a minute? I need to talk with Rowena alone.”

The girls went over and snuggled against the trunk. They were clad in their dresses and petticoats and buckled shoes, so they were hot and miserable. Faith was hot and miserable too, and now her rage was sparking.

She hadn’t asked for a single piece of disaster to be foisted on them. She hadn’t asked for a single burden to be placed on her slender shoulders. She hated to be in charge and making decisions, but if she didn’t, who would? Rowena?

The prospect was laughable.

She grabbed Rowena and dragged her away. Faith was usually pleasant and amiable, but for once she was spitting mad.

“If you have something to say to me, Rowena, then say it.”

“This is a stupid plan. We never should have left the villa.”

“You’ve told me that a hundred times already.”

“Well, make it a hundred and one. You’re insane for trotting off like this, and I don’t know why I’m listening to you. You have no authority over me.”

“Fine. I have no authority. I admit it. I’m not your mother or your guardian or your chaperone. Nor do I even appear to be your friend these days. You are free as a bird. You’re away from the convent and on your own—just as you’ve always wished to be.” Faith waved at the dirt road they’d travelled. “Go ahead and return, Rowena. Run to your precious Mr. Robertson. There are no chains binding you to me. Go!”

Faith’s speech shocked them both. Faith—because she never scolded or chastised. Rowena—because she’d never seen Faith in a temper. It definitely gave her pause.

“It’s not about Mr. Robertson,” Rowena claimed, “though I would have been delighted to stay with him—had he asked me. Which he didn’t.”

“What is it then?”

“It was lovely there.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Mr. Hubbard wouldn’t have minded if we’d dawdled for awhile.”

“He minded very much.”

“So what?” Rowena said. “Mr. Robertson didn’t, and the property wasn’t Mr. Hubbard’s anyway. We could have tarried forever if we’d liked.”

“We couldn’t have.”

“We were safe there,” Rowena ridiculously insisted.

“Safe? Really?”

“Yes. There was food to eat and comfortable beds to sleep in and servants to tend us.”

“For how long, Rowena? Answer me that.”

“For however long the true owner was away. We might have been able to delay for ages.”