Scoundrel (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 4) (19 page)

“I’m an orphan. They died when I was five.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. My mother died birthing me, and my father was busy with his various businesses so I never saw him. I was mostly raised by a nanny who enticed me with stories about the saints.”

“Ah…now I understand what happened to you.”

“What happened?”

“You were convinced when you were too little and gullible to ignore her.”

“Perhaps,” she mused.

“My father was a French count,” he suddenly exclaimed, and he was curious as to why he would.

Acquaintances in London knew the depressing tale, but it wasn’t the type of dreary saga that should be bandied to a woman who was practically a stranger.

“You’re joking,” she said.

“No, he was. Truly.”

“Then are
you
a French count?”

He leaned nearer and whispered, “A by-blow. A natural born son, but I’m told he liked me best of all his children.”

“Who told you that?”

“It must have been my mother, but she wasn’t around much so I don’t have many memories of her.”

“Who was she?”

“His favorite mistress of course.”

“Oh, of course.” She studied him keenly, then laughed and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” he gruffly asked.

“I believe this is the most scandalous discussion I’ve ever had. It certainly tops the list since I joined the convent.”

“In my mother’s defense, my father would have married her, but he was already married.”

“Ah!” She laughed harder and clapped her palms over her ears to prevent herself from hearing more salacious admissions. “Don’t confess any other details. I might be struck by lightning.”

He staggered away. “Let me get out of the way, so I’m not struck too.”

Her merriment calmed, and she sighed. “Did you inherit from him?”

“Why? Are you hoping I might be a rich husband for somebody? Maybe you?”

“No, I’m simply trying to figure out what drives you.”

“Nothing has ever
driven
me. I’m lazy and vain and impossible. And usually penniless.”

“How have you supported yourself in London?”

“I gamble and swindle people.”

“You do not.”

“I do.” He grinned. “I’m good at it too.”

“I bet you are.”

He walked over to her, and he braced himself on the boulder. He widened his thighs and pulled her over so her back was pressed to his front, her bottom to his loins, their toes dug into the sand. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his nose in her hair.

They stared out at the sea, observing as the sun continued to set and the sky went through a myriad of color changes.

“This is delicious, isn’t it?” she murmured.

“It is,” he agreed. “I’ve seen a lot of beautiful places in my life, but never one like this.”

“I can understand why it lulled you into complacence.”

“It wasn’t difficult. I always wanted to live like a wealthy, indolent king.”

“And you have your own perfect kingdom.”

“Yes, and I’m a despot too.”

“I don’t know about that,” she countered. “You’re not so bad.”

“I’m not? Obviously we’re making progress.”

The notion crossed his mind again that he shouldn’t depart, and more strikingly he wondered if he shouldn’t persuade her to stay too. With her morals lagging and her stern nun’s countenance being tossed aside, he thought a remarkable bond could be forged.

But she wasn’t a doxy or a pleasure slave. If he seduced her, he’d have to make promises. All of his acquaintances could verify that he never made promises because he never kept them. Nor had he the means to promise, and even if he had, he never intended to wed unless it was to an heiress where such a sacrifice would be worthwhile financially.

“Have you talked to Rowena?” he asked.

“Since when?”

“This afternoon.”

“No, I’ve been down here for hours. Why? Has something happened?”

“I suppose you could call it
something
.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What is it?”

He’d already told Ralston they were leaving so he didn’t comprehend why it was so hard to discuss it with her. He felt as if he was standing on a high cliff and about to jump off, and it dawned on him that he’d never be with her like this again.

She’d don her nun’s habit and cover her hair. She’d close herself off and focus on how to reestablish herself at the convent. All of it seemed a great personal loss to him that left him melancholy and distressed.

He shook off his maudlin emotions and said, “How would you like to return to England?”

“I would like to, but I have no idea how to accomplish it.”

“I’ll take you. I’ll take all of you.”

“But…how?”

“When I was fussing with those criminals in town, I forced them to give me some money.”

“It must have been a substantial sum.”

“It was.”

“Enough to pay all our fares?”

“Yes.” He could sense she was reeling with questions, with comments, and when she chuckled, he asked, “What?”

“I was actually about to say that I don’t want to go, that I want to remain here forever.”

“It’s that kind of spot, isn’t it? It lures you in and holds you captive.”

She spun so she was leaning into him, and he could feel every inch of her. She wasn’t wearing a corset so her breasts were unbound and they were pressed to his chest, riveting him with their presence.

“You’ll come with us?” she asked.

“Yes. It’s occurred to me that I shouldn’t let you out of my sight. You’d land yourself in too much trouble.”

“Mr. Robertson will come too?”

“Yes. I could never leave him behind. We’ll protect you and ensure you get home in one piece.”

“You’re so happy here, and I know you don’t usually have much money. Are you certain you should spend it on us?”

“I don’t mind, Faith.”

She smiled and studied his eyes, searching for a truth he doubted she’d find.

“You’re a good man, aren’t you, Chase Hubbard? Deep down, you’re good.”

“No, I’m not. I’m rotten to the core. I just think I should probably head for England.”

“And you decide on it when you’ll have to drag two women and three little girls with you.”

“It won’t kill me to help you.”

“Stop pretending,” she scolded.

“About what? How am I pretending?”

“You bluster about, wanting others to deem you callous and horrid, but you’re not. I’ve discovered your secret. You can be quite gallant when the situation calls for it.”

“You’re deluded, but if you wish to believe I’m amazing, I won’t dissuade you.”

“When will we go?”

“I expect I’ll require a few days to prepare.”

“You don’t even have a decent shirt.”

“I’ll have to buy one, won’t I?”

At the prospect, he was terribly dejected, and she laughed. “You look as if you’re about to stagger off to the barber to have a tooth pulled.”

“There has to be a bit of the native savage in me. I’ve enjoyed loafing and strutting about without any clothes. I can’t imagine being all buttoned up in a tight coat and trousers. The notion makes my skin crawl.”

“I’m predicting you’ll be dashing in a British suit.”

“I’m predicting I’ll be miserable and grumpy.”

“You poor thing.”

She stretched out and draped her arms over his shoulders. She was so close, he had to kiss her. He was only human. What else could he do?

He drew her to him and reveled. He ran his hands over her hair, up and down her back, and even occasionally stroked her bottom. She didn’t protest at all, and he was a tad shocked by how reckless she was being, but he wouldn’t complain. He was cad enough to take advantage.

She asked, “Will I ever see you again once we’re in Britain?”

“Not unless you keep your pretty self out of that idiotic convent.”

“Would you want to see me again?”

He shrugged, realizing they were tiptoeing out onto dangerous ground. “Would there be a point to it?”

“We’re friends,” she said.

“Are we?”

“Yes, we are. Don’t you dare deny it.”

He supposed, considering he’d rescued her from slavers and had put his fingers into her most private places, they were definitely friends. And maybe more than that. Was there a word to describe it? If there was, he couldn’t guess what it might be.

She would never consent to being a paramour, and he couldn’t afford a mistress or fiancée. What was left? There was no role she could occupy.

“We might be friends,” he allowed, “but if you mention it in polite company, I’ll insist we’re not. I’m much too manly to have a female friend.”

“Yes, you’re very manly.”

“I didn’t use to be. I’ve reinvented myself since I arrived in Africa.”

“I appear to be reinventing myself too.”

“Who and what will you be when you’re finished?”

“I have no idea.”

He started kissing her again, and odd as it sounded, he felt it was the very last time and he’d never have another chance. Which was ridiculous.

They had some days at the villa, then there’d be several weeks at sea where they’d be in close quarters on the ship. There would be plenty of future opportunities for mischief, but he ought to be careful in what he perpetrated. She was already hinting at a continuing connection, apparently wondering if he’d agree.

He never would.

Still though, there was a desperation to the embrace that rattled him. He couldn’t get her near enough, couldn’t hold her tightly enough. His ardor was spiking, his body demanding he take more than was permitted, and he wrenched himself away.

She scowled. “Why did we stop?”

“Because you drive me wild.”

“Marvelous.”

“I can’t control myself around you, as I’ve proved over and over.”

“Yes, you have, but I’m trying to be someone else this afternoon, remember? I’m trying to cram in a few hours of illicit behavior so I’ll have memories to reflect on after I put on my habit again.”

“Well, if we keep on, we’ll walk much farther down the road of passion than you’d wish to travel. Kissing is fine, but there are other…
things
we shouldn’t attempt.”

“Like what? Marital acts?”

“Precisely. You might think you’re eager to be wicked and wanton, but I don’t believe you really want that. Right now you assume you do, but tomorrow morning you’d be horrified.”

She sighed. “Probably. It’s just that you make me so…so…”

She couldn’t verbalize what she was feeling, and he was awful to seduce her. Why introduce her to physical amour? She had a very sexual nature and once enlightened as to the particulars of carnal dalliance, would always crave it. If she returned to the convent, she’d be miserable and would never have a male to provide any relief.

She needed a man in her bed, and he was a hairsbreadth away from being that man, from giving her much more attention than she ought to have. He had to cool himself down or end the rendezvous and escort her up to the villa.

“Can you swim?” he asked.

“A bit.”

He stood her on her feet, and he stood too.

“Let’s play in the waves,” he said.

“Together?”

“Yes. You can take your dress off if you like.”

“Take my dress…
off
? I’d be…naked.” She hissed the word
naked
, and very likely it was the first time she’d ever spoken it aloud.

“Yes, you would be, which I would definitely enjoy.”

“I’ll keep my dress on, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind, but I’ll let you.”

He clasped her hand and led her to the water’s edge. He waded in, but didn’t release her, not for a single second. He continued on until it was deeper, then he pulled her to him and wrapped her legs around his waist. They bobbed in the surf.

“You are so naughty,” she said.

“I’ve never denied it, and obviously you can be a tad naughty too.”

“Just this once. Just this afternoon.”

“It’s evening now.”

“I’ve been loafing for hours.” She gazed over at the sun, where it had finally dropped to the horizon. “It seems as if you’ve guided me into a secret room and showed me sights no female should ever see.”

“I’ve always thought British girls were much too sheltered. You’d be shocked by what’s considered common.”

“You’ve given me numerous hints.”

“When you’re back in England, you’ll never be the same. You realize that, don’t you?”

“I ponder it constantly. How will I return to being plain, ordinary Sister Faithful Newton? After I’ve befriended Chase Hubbard, after I’ve rollicked with him in the waves on the coast of Africa, how will I maintain my sanity?”

She’d be a mess, he supposed. Nor would he be much better. There was a sense of depressing nostalgia growing in his chest. It was suddenly crushing him so he couldn’t breathe. He was afraid he’d open his mouth and all sorts of mawkish drivel would spill out.

He yearned to tell her about himself, about his rough childhood and difficult adult years. He yearned to tell her that he was tired of being alone, that he wished he had someone who cared about him, who loved him, but he didn’t dare voice any of it.

She’d assume he was talking about
her
, that he was hoping she’d fill a void that was empty. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want her.

So he started kissing her again. With fornication off the table, it was the only activity he truly liked to share with a female, and he was attracted to her as he’d never been to another. She made him happy, made him more content, but he’d never been much for intense reflection.

He touched her all over, occasionally trying to untie the front of her dress or tug the whole garment off, but she prevented him. Gradually the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky darkened, and the air cooled.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For giving me today. For showing me that I can be adventurous and wild.”

“You definitely can be, and if people ever say you’re a stick in the mud, just have them ask Chase Hubbard what you’re really like.”

“I will.”

She snuggled herself to him, her head resting on his shoulder. She was shivering, and he pushed them so they drifted toward shore. Once the water was shallower, he set her on her feet. As her legs unwound from his waist, he nearly groaned with dismay.