Seducing the Rake (Mad, Bad and Dangerous Heroes) (24 page)

Something snapped in Morland then. With a harsh oath, he strode to the door. “Outside, my girl,” he hissed, so low that only she could hear.

Chessy’s face paled. “Oh, very well. Since you are so tedious as to insist. If you will excuse us for a moment, gentlemen?”

She swept from the room, chin held high, then spun around to face him. “Well, my lord? What was so vastly urgent that it required this uncouth invasion of my house?”

Morland could not speak. He had not envisioned seeing her again like
this,
with fury in her face, cold and aloof. “Damn it, Chessy, what happened last night was a grave mistake. I never
meant
it to happen. And I give you my vow it will never happen again. I hope you will believe me.”

At his words Chessy’s cheeks blazed. “A
mistake?
Is that what it was?” Her eyes seemed very bright.

“I don’t ask you to forgive me. It would be more than I could expect. But I hope you will accept my deep apologies.”

Chessy’s fingers tightened on the rose. “It is as well that you do not ask my forgiveness, my lord, for I shall never give it. Nor shall I accept your apologies.” A cluster of petals fell to the polished wooden floor. “But do not distress yourself. You have only done what any man would have done, given the same opportunity.”

“Damn it, Chessy, don’t—”

Her smile was very brittle. “Don’t what? I hardly see what all the fuss is about. It was just the usual male amusement, was it not?”

Morland’s hand shot out and caught her arm.
“Don’t, damn it!
It was not an idle amusement. We were fiends and suddenly I wanted more.”

“It has been a long time since I counted you my friend. Ten years, to be precise.”

Morland’s jaw locked. “So you refuse to accept my apology? I can only wonder why.”

Chessy gave a raw laugh. “No apology is required. You were acting as you must. The incident is entirely forgotten. It holds absolutely no importance for me, I assure you.”

For some reason this last reply goaded him most of all. “You felt
all
the same emotions I did.”

Chessy pulled at his hand. “I felt nothing.”

“Indeed.” Morland’s eyes took on a reckless gleam. “Do you care to wager on that, my dear?”

“I only wager among my
friends
.”

“You give me a clear notion of your opinion of me. Very well, since I’m already damned in your eyes—” With a low curse he buried his fingers in her gleaming hair. Her waist was a pliant curve beneath his hand. She was warm and soft and—

Perfect. Achingly perfect.

He inhaled the scent of her skin. Sandalwood, wasn’t it?

Then she twisted. But she did not fight him. Something told him she was too proud to give way to a struggle.

He raised her chin slowly. “Is it forgotten? Prove it.”

Before she could move, before she could even frame a protest, his lips were on hers. Light and warm, they skimmed her stunned mouth.

Teasing. Goading. Reminding her of the fire that she claimed she had forgotten.

But it had been a lie, of course.

Chessy Cameron remembered every blinding moment of pleasure she had found in this man’s arms. Every sweet second of discovery she had learned from his strong fingers.

She remembered the slow, effortless mastery of his mouth and the sweet yearning that began somewhere in her chest and melted out into a thousand silken pleasure points.

Her hands seemed to acquire a mind and will of their own.

To comb through his thick hair.

To tease the hardness of his mouth.

But most dangerous of all was the sense of
belonging.
Of coming home at last, after years of rootless wandering.

She stiffened and tried to pull away, only to realize that her own fingers were wrapped around his neckcloth and her lips were open to the brush of his tongue.

And heaven help her, she wanted more, wanted to feel his hands in places no man had ever seen or touched. And she longed to do the same to him in turn, exploring the faint indentation in his cheek, the fair hair that curved slightly above his brow.

But she never would—never
could.
It was over before it had begun. She released Morland’s tumbled neckcloth and shoved wildly at his chest.

She felt the tension grip him, felt the thunder of his heart beneath her taut fingers.

Most of all she saw the desire that darkened his eyes as he stared down at her. There was a faint tremor in the hands that held her neck through the silken cloud of her hair.

But the world came surging back, as it always would. Chessy shoved at Morland’s chest, jerking away.

Morland’s groan was dark, raw. Lost.

Chessy knew the same sense of bewilderment. But there was no time for sighs or regret or anything that would make her soft. Not while her father’s life hung fragile in the balance.

“Sweet heaven, Chessy—” Morland drew a harsh breath. “You can’t forget
that.”

“L-let me go!”

For long seconds they stood frozen, his hands braced beside her head, their bodies locked.

Better this way
, she thought.
Better with all hope severed and only the pain and the anger left between them. Yes, this was the only safe way.

She forced her face to icy impassivity. “You—disgust me, my lord.” Her voice was flat, even though her skin trembled and her heart drummed madly against his. “I shall thank you to leave this house now and never return.”

She must make him leave. She couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Should we have the misfortune to meet again, I shall give no sign that I have ever known you. For the Tony Morland I once knew is gone. Dead.” Her voice caught. “Perhaps the Chessy Cameron he knew back in Macao is dead also.”

Morland’s face went pale. A muscle flashed at his jaw.

Chessy thought—
feared
—that he meant to speak, but he only stared down at her in terrible, harsh silence.

And then in one swift movement he pulled away and offered her a perfect, heartbreaking bow. “In that case—there’s nothing more to say, is there? You’ve made your wishes perfectly clear.” His mouth set in a bitter smile. “As for myself, I shall remain—your servant, Miss Cameron. For now and forever.”

And then he was gone.

~ ~ ~

For a long time Chessy did not move. Her back slid down, supported against the wall. Her knees trembled.

He was gone. She had managed it. Her final insults had driven him away.

And she would never see him again.

A burning ache filled her, wrapping itself about her throat and choking her. She closed her eyes against the pain. Down the hall she heard Swithin’s questioning voice, followed by Morland’s curt answer, then the sharp crack of a door.

Done. Finished. Forever
.

A single tear slid down her cheek. She touched her cheek softly, wanting to save this memory of him. Even if it was only a tear, it was all she would have to remember through the long, empty days.

A footstep sounded behind her. “I say. Miss Cameron, I was wondering if—” There was a brief hesitation. “Oh, has Morland left? But I thought—”

Suddenly it was more than she could bear. Chessy fought to keep her voice even. “Pray—pray forgive me, Lord Grantham. I-I must go out. Would you please convey my apologies to—the others?”

“Of course. But is there nothing I can—”

“No. Nothing.”

Chessy didn’t hear any more. She merely walked past him up the stairs, her face as white as polished marble.

~ ~ ~

She didn’t go out, of course.

She only tugged on her black silk suit and climbed blindly up the back stairs to the attic room she’d reserved for her exercises.

To lose herself. To stop the pain in the only way she knew how.

First came the cleansing breath, still and strong with effortless precision.

Legs firm, she moved, knees soft as water.

Gradually the room faded and she was there again, safe amid the centuries, among red tile roofs and flying, white scrolls where a stern old man observed each movement in impassive silence.

“Not so, Midnight.” His head shook in that swift, curt way of his. “More knees—all from the knees, as I am one hundred times telling you.”

Without another word he swept into a bent-knee stance with arms outstretched. “Think of earth and sky. Think of a mountain stream in high spring. Think
here,”
he ordered, tapping his lean stomach just above his navel. “Above all, think
without
thinking. Think with the part of you beyond words and without mind. Only then will you move in perfect grace, with heart and body one.”

Chessy had tried, and slowly she had learned to do all those things.

There had been another foreigner with her at Shao-lin, tall and amber-eyed. Sometimes Chessy had sparred with him under the abbot’s watchful eye. She wondered what had happened to him since she’d left.

Long, so long ago …

Suddenly it was only yesterday: the darting kites, the rich dark earth. The emerald rice thrusting up through silver pools.

Slide. Push.
Feel.

Her hands cut through the air, carving space into smooth, flawless curves.

“Move like water through sand, Midnight. Move like wind in tall grass.”

She did. Just as always, each movement calmed her, delighted her, empowered her. They renewed her, even when she thought there was nothing left to renew.

Finally the pain shivered and moved apart from her like a black shadow. And there it stayed.

Never touched. But never quite forgotten.

 “What in the name of heaven are you doing?” Swithin’s face was tense with worry and disbelief as he faced Chessy that evening.

“I’m going to Morland’s, of course. To find that wretched book!” Chessy concentrated on securing her mask.

“Are you
mad?
It’s been raining through the day. The tiles will be like ice tonight. If you don’t fall and break your neck, it will be a miracle!”

Chessy gave a reckless laugh. “Perhaps it would be just as well if I did!”

“You’re talking rubbish, girl! What your father would say if he knew—”

“But he doesn’t know, does he? And he
won’t
know unless I can find that cursed book.” She turned then, her eyes huge and wild. “Oh, Swithin, don’t fight me tonight. You know as well as I that time is growing short. My father’s health has never been robust, not since he was felled with malaria five years ago. Every day I worry about how he is being cared for—and whether the fevers have returned.”

Swithin gave her shoulder a swift, brusque squeeze. “Don’t plague yourself on James’s account. The man has the constitution of an ox. He’ll be fine. It’s
you
I’m worried about.”

Chessy reached for her black cloak. “Whatever for?”

“Because you’re in a strange taking tonight, my girl, and I don’t like it by half.”

“The book must be found. Can you deny that?” Swithin’s lips tightened, but he did not answer. “Quite. And the sooner the better. So there it is.” She turned then, her form swathed in black. “Now please fetch the carriage, Swithin.” Her voice faltered. “Before I lose my nerve.”

The old servant raised a hand as if he meant to protest. But Chessy disappeared down the rear stairs before he could speak.

~ ~ ~

The rain continued, pounding in sullen waves. By the time Chessy climbed the roof, the wet tiles were like glass. Twice she lost her footing, despite all her attention. She dangled wildly, inches from plummeting to the street, but both times she managed to cling desperately, climbing to safety.

It was madness, she knew. But what choice did she have?