Seducing the Rake (Mad, Bad and Dangerous Heroes) (28 page)

And. then, just as swiftly as it had begun, it was over.

“Sorry, Cricket.” He had jerked back, releasing her awkwardly. “I can’t imagine what—why—” He raked his fingers through his sunlit hair. “Forgive me.”

Chessy had only stared at him, bewildered. She didn’t understand or the things she was feeling. She’d shrugged, trying to shake off the strange fluttering in her stomach, the lightness of her skipping pulse.

It was only a kiss, after all.

But it was a kiss that had lasted far too long—and ended far too soon. Even now Chessy could remember every texture, every agonizing heartbeat of it.

And all she could find to regret was his apology, which had hurt her far more than any liberties he had taken.

Yes, it had all begun there on that windswept, cypress-ringed hill surrounded by the silver water of the South China Sea.

But it certainly hadn’t ended there…

~ ~ ~

A hint of sound teased her ear.

Chessy scrubbed at her cheek.

“Chess—”

The sound jerked her up from the chair where she had dozed off.

“Tony? Can you
hear
me?” Anxiously she studied his face, looking for signs of recovery. Was his color slightly deeper? And there at his jaw, were the lines of tension less?

Quickly she dug for a clean strip of linen and applied more herbal paste to the wound.

This time she definitely saw a muscle flex at his forearm.

“Just once, Tony. Oh, please, prove to me that we’ve done it.”

As if in answer she saw a faint twitch of his eyelid. The fingers of his right hand curled slightly. And then she heard the faint breath of sound.

“D-didn’t know … Should have guessed…”

Slowly, with a superhuman effort, his eyes opened. His startling sapphire eyes blazed with a force of will she had never seen there before.

Slowly his fingers circled her wrist.

“Need to tell.” He swallowed, grimacing. “Never meant … to put you in danger.”

Chessy caught back a sob and stroked the gaunt line of his cheek. “Don’t try to talk. It will be fine now. Just rest.”

“Must … listen…”

Beads of moisture trembled in the bronze hair dusting his powerful chest. He was hot now, as hot as he had been cold only seconds before.

“There’s no need to talk,” she whispered. “All that can wait until tomorrow.”

“Chess—” He swallowed, then took a harsh breath. “Must … stay here.” His eyes were bright, fierce with fever. “Not … safe.”

Chessy finally made out his ragged words. “Don’t talk, my love.” The endearment slipped out without her awareness. “We’ll have all the time in the world to talk tomorrow, after you’re well.”

He closed his eyes. A shudder shook him. “Must s-stay…”

And then, with his fingers still wrapped around her wrist, he fell back against his pillow.

~ ~ ~

Chessy sat frozen for long minutes. His color was better, and his breathing stronger. He was going to
live!

She touched his damp forehead. His temperature was normal now, and his muscles had lost their frightening rigidity.

Dazed still, Chessy watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. She touched his face and smoothed back his hair with trembling fingers. When Whitby pushed open the door, he found her that way, with Tony’s hand cradled in hers and hot tears coursing down her cheeks.

“Oh, miss, he isn’t—”

She turned a blinding smile on the old butler. “He’s safe, Whitby! God willing, he’s g-going to be fine.” She swayed to her feet and then threw her arms around the old servant, giving him a fierce hug.

After a moment of shock, the butler returned the hug, stifling a sniff of his own.

Chessy released him and scrubbed at her eyes, half laughing, half crying. “He’ll be angry as a bear in spring when he wakes. The
ma-huang
I gave him will leave him with the very devil of a temper.”

Whitby smiled faintly. “In that case I’d better go prepare the others, I expect.” He studied her for long moments, his eyes measuring. “He owes you a great debt, Miss Cameron. He won’t like that. Sometimes I think he’s afraid of owing anybody anything.”

Chessy stared down at the gaunt face against the pillow. “Why?”

But she had no answer. Behind her the door closed quietly.

Carefully she brushed back a bronze strand from Morland’s brow. His face was relaxed now in a natural sleep. “Wretch,” she whispered. “Impossible, arrogant rake. You’re going to live, do you hear me? To
live,
Tony Morland.”

~ ~ ~

It was a dream, the same dream as all the others.

It was a girl, the same one he always saw. Sable haired with eyes like purple damask.

She burst from the silver waters of the cove and caught him like the magnificent sea-creature she favored, spilling her laughter around them like circles of bright sunlight.

Morland shut his mind to the exquisite power of that vision, to the heat that swept through his body at the touch of her hot, slick thighs.

How he wanted her. Even when it had been forbidden, he had wanted her, naked and urgent like this…

Only leaving could keep her safe.

So he’d done the best thing he could. He’d snuck off in the night like the miserable dog she said he was, without a handshake or a word of farewell.

Yes, he’d been a fine gentleman, to be sure. He’d saved her body that night. He had kept her pristine and pure for the husband who would one day be hers.

But in the process, it seemed, he’d broken her innocent young heart.

Morland flung his hand up to sweep away the gnawing memories. Too much regret.

Too much loss.

Then he felt softness, female softness. He stiffened, searching for the source of that warmth. And then he felt skin. Skin that trembled beneath his touch.

His breath caught. He opened his eyes.

A lantern flickered upon the side table. And there was Chessy, black silk jacket discarded in favor of his flowing white linen shirt.

White linen.

White shoulders.

Whiter thighs … none of it a dream.

She was the daughter of his old friend. She was innocent, fresh, with her whole life in front of her, while he had been in too many beds with too many women he hadn’t even liked. No, by heaven Chessy Cameron deserved
far
better than a cripple like him or a hardened rake like he had become.

But first he had to learn to forget her fire, ignore her beauty.

He wrenched his hungry eyes away.

And found worse torture. The top three buttons of her shirt were opened. Her hair spilled like dancing shadows over the white linen, the white bedclothes, the white, soft shoulders and creamy thighs.

Heat again. Gnawing and relentless. He blinked and tried to sit up, dizzy with pain. And his arm—

Frowning, Morland looked down at the thick cotton strip wrapped around his forearm. Six silver needles dotted his shoulder and naked thighs.

What in the devil?

Piece by piece, the jagged memories fell together. An intruder—the slash of a blade.
Poison?

How else to explain the sudden bleeding away of sense and sensation, the numbness that had squeezed through his body and made him claw for every breath?

Morland looked down, stunned. She had caught him, pulled him back from that ghastly creeping weakness and certain death.

He touched his chest. Beads of moisture glistened in the bronze hair. Not sweat. In his nightmare he had known only icy cold. It was
her
tears, small and silver. They had fallen like soft, forgiving rain while he tottered on the very edge of death.

Sweet, spring tears shed for him.

His jaw locked. Did she still feel something for him after all? After long years of separation, after the cruel way he had left her …

In that instant Tony Morland glimpsed clearly what he had been missing for the last ten years, what he had been chasing through the mountain passes of Spain and in all those shadowed, scented bedrooms that followed.

Through all the lonely, driven years after he’d left Macao…

Just
this.
This tangle of dark hair on his pillow. These soft hands against his shoulder.

He thought of a spring day long before when a girl trembling on the edge of womanhood had fed him fish with her fingers and danced barefoot beside the South China Sea. Her laughter had rung out and bound him tight in its magic.

They’d pledged their vows of loyalty then, with blood pricked and mingled. With solemn oaths he still remembered.

“I’ll be your friend, your forever friend,” he’d whispered. “I’ll be your heart and your bravest warrior, against all foes. Until …” He’d frowned then, his imagination giving out.

There on the sunlit beach Chessy had smiled up at him, a blinding smile of endless admiration and total trust. “Until—until north of night,” she’d said solemnly, pressing their bleeding fingers together. “Until south of the sun. Until somewhere … east of—of forever.”

East of forever.

How could he have forgotten those days and how much she had trusted him, adored him? But he would see her laugh that way again. He swore it, even now, while he shook with dizziness and his vision ran in a dark blur.

It did not matter what it took or how many tears her laughter cost him. He would do all those things.

He searched for the warm curve of her body and drew close.

Yes, tears or laughter, there would still be
this
.

That was Morland’s last thought as he sank back against her. And he was holding her still when the drowsiness won out and his eyelids finally closed.

~ ~ ~

Seated before a crackling fire in a charming little bedroom overlooking Bedford Square, the Duchess of Cranford studied the pearl-
and
amethyst-studded bracelet that had recently come into her possession.

It was amazing, she thought. Its design was an exact match to a ring she had had in her safekeeping for some years now.

It
also
matched the necklace Chessy Cameron had worn to the ball.

The duchess frowned, twisting the bracelet so that firelight shot off its gold and jeweled surfaces. This might be the key to many things, to secrets she had been unable to unravel no matter how hard her efforts. She would have to make her plans with care.

As she frowned over the magnificent piece of jewelry, a knock came at the door. “I have your hot milk, Your Grace. If you are ready.”

Quickly the duchess shoved the bracelet back into its leather case, which then went under her pillow. “Yes, Lizzie, I’m quite ready.” She smiled at her companion carrying a silver tray with the duchess’s habitual late-night glass of milk. “You are far too good to me, you know.”

“Nonsense,” her dark-haired companion said. “Quite the opposite, and well you know it.”

“Indeed? Sometimes I forget who gives the orders here,” the duchess mumbled as she took the warm drink.

To her dismay, she saw that her hands were trembling. Yes, she would have to be
very
careful. Otherwise a great many people would be hurt.

 “Almost done,” Chessy whispered to herself. Her needles glittered in the candlelight as she pulled the last piece of metal free and cleaned it, then slid it carefully back into its velvet case.

She massaged her neck and sank onto the day bed that Whitby had set up beside Morland’s. After blowing out all but one candle, she stretched out to rest. It would be three hours until the needles needed to be reapplied. Four hours until the bandages had to be changed.