Taming Rafe (24 page)

Her door burst open.

“
What did you say?
” Rafe demanded, slamming it shut and striding up to her.

She stared at him, out of breath and with a bloody scratch still across his right cheek. Her pirate king. “N-nothing,” she managed. “I didn’t say anything. Just forget it. Oh,
please
, forget it.”

He grabbed her hands and yanked her to her feet. “Say it,” he repeated, shaking her.

“I…” Felicity shook her head. “No.”

“Lis,” he said, anger and frustration lining his voice, and shook her again. “Say it, damn it!”

She wanted to—that was the worst part. “I…I said I love you.” Tears filled her eyes. “It’s stupid. I’m an idiot. Just ignore—”

“I love
you
, Lis,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

He captured her mouth with his own, pulling her up against him with fierce possessiveness. Felicity kissed him back, never wanting to let him go. Finally he sighed, burying his face in her hair. His arms around her waist held her warm and close against him.

“Now what?” she murmured, twisting her hands into his shirt, relishing the tall strength of him.

“Say it again,” he whispered, lifting his head to look at her.

“I love you.” The words came much easier this time, and she smiled.

Rafe kissed her again, slowly and deliciously, then with a gasp Felicity pushed him away with such force that he nearly stumbled. “Ouch. What is it?”

“Lord Deerhurst is downstairs waiting for luncheon!” she exclaimed, heading for the mirror. “I forgot.”

For once, Rafe didn’t even mind hearing the earl’s name. He moved behind her, wrapping his arms across her waist and nibbling at her ear. “Let him wait. Or I’d be happy to send him away.”

She sagged against him, obviously trying to decide whether to give in to him or start another argument. As usual, arguing won. “I can’t do that. Let go, Rafael.”

Reluctantly he let her escape from his arms. “So you’re still going to marry him?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He handed her one of the clips that had fallen from her hair, hiding his hurt behind the motion. “But you love me.” She looked at him, her expression frustrated, but he continued anyway. “And I love you. And damned Deerhurst doesn’t deserve you.”

Felicity faced the dressing mirror and finished repairing her hair. “Love has nothing to do with James,” she said slowly. “I have May and myself to think about.”

“I hadn’t realized you were so mercenary.”

“Oh, stop it. You seem to have no difficulty putting yourself first, so don’t
you
”—she jabbed a finger into his chest—“cast the first stone.”

She opened the door and stalked out, leaving him
standing in the middle of the room. She was right, as she usually was. It wasn’t that he thought proclaiming his love would solve everything, but he’d hoped it might make a little difference. He should have known better, by now. “Blast.”

It would have made him feel better to at least set Deerhurst out of Forton on his ass. But continuing to share a roof with Lis was going to be difficult enough without his making things worse—though that did seem to be the one thing at which he excelled.

He noticed her broken-hinged, water-stained jewelry box on her dressing table. Maybe this was one small thing he could make better. The oak lid was still pretty, carved with intricate ivy leaves and cherubs, and he flipped it open, wondering if he could salvage the top and replace the bottom. The letter inside immediately caught his attention, and with a guilty look over his shoulder he picked it up.

“York,” he muttered, looking at the address. Lis had applied for a position in York.

He had no business reading her correspondence, and he acknowledged that he was being a cad and a snoop as he unfolded it. He read it once, then a second time. “Damn,” he swore, breath-stealing panic tightening his chest.

Swiftly he returned the missive to its place and closed the lid. She could leave. Suddenly the worry over whether she was using him to keep Forton seemed small and stupid. If he pushed her again, if he messed up whatever the hell it was he was doing, she could go. If it wasn’t to York, it could be to Deerhurst. And he didn’t think he’d be able to stand either one.

He headed back outside and concentrated on finishing the wall frames and lifting them into posi
tion. With nearly twenty men helping now, the work went much more quickly than before. His leg ached from the accident earlier, but he counted himself lucky to have escaped and ignored it.

Beeks and Ronald brought luncheon out for everyone, and they continued work until nearly sunset. Rafe sent everyone home for the day after they had secured the frame on all four sides to keep the evening breezes from knocking it down.

He stood back, looking at the new skeleton of the stable. Tomorrow would be more difficult, and he was not looking forward to hauling the heavy roof supports up to the top of the walls. Once that was done, though, he would split his crew. He hadn’t planned on it originally, but today things had changed. Half his workers would continue work on the stable, while the other half finished cleaning out and replanting the garden. Lis still hadn’t had her morning tea amid the roses, and by God he was going to see that it happened for her.

“When can Aristotle move back in?” May asked, slipping her small hand into his.

“I’d give it another week or so.”

“I would like to help.”

He grinned down at her. “What about your studies?” he asked.

“I’ll do them in the evenings. Felicity can’t help me during the day anyway, with Lord Deerhurst always coming to visit.”

“I’ll mention it to your sister, then.”

“Thank you.” May tugged on his hand, and he obediently returned with her to the house. “You know, Rafe, I’ve been thinking.”

Felicity wasn’t the only part of Forton that had stolen into his heart. May was as close as he was likely to get to a child of his own. It was the first time he’d thought of missing fatherhood with regret
rather than with cynical relief. Rafe gently squeezed her fingers. “About what, sweetling?”

“About my travels.”

“Yes, Lis told me you were going to be and adventurer.”

“Right. I think I’ll go to Africa first, because I would like to see all the animals that you talked about.”

“That sounds wise,” he agreed.

“But then I’m not certain where I should go next. All the foreign places are so far from each other, you know. What do
you
most want to see?”

“I haven’t really decided yet. The world is a rather large—”

She stopped and frowned up at him. “But I’m going to travel where
you
travel. Plans have to be made, Rafe. I must have servants, and the proper clothes, and it has to be done at the right time of year.”

He gazed at her for a moment. “You have been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have. It’s important.”

Rafe glanced back at the stable. “I’ll tell you what, then. As soon as the stable is finished, we’ll plot out our travels. All right?”

“All right.”

He paused with her in the doorway. “May, did Deerhurst come calling when Nigel was still here?”

“No, not really. He came for tea sometimes, and he and Nigel would go riding. After Nigel had to sell Felicity’s mare and then let Smythe go, he came by, but Nigel had already left for London. After that, he kept trying to lend Felicity money.”

That was fairly close to what Felicity had told him. “Has anyone else ever come calling on Felicity?”

“Squire Talford,” she answered promptly.

“Well, of course. Anyone else?”

She scrunched up her face, as though trying to remember. “When Nigel came back from Eton, he brought some friends with him. Lis said they were all cork-brained jack-a-dandies, and finally they left. Nigel said she drove them away, but I was little and I don’t remember.”

“Would you want to live at Deerhurst, if you could?”

“Lis just asked me that.” May pulled her hand free and opened the kitchen door. “I’m going to Africa.”

Rafe slowly followed her inside, and went up to change for dinner. With Nigel’s cronies and Deerhurst as her only suitors, no wonder Lis had managed to separate the ideas of love and marriage in her mind.

He pulled off his dirty, sweat-stained shirt and breeches, and stepped into the bathtub Beeks had filled for him. On the rare occasions when he had thought of marriage for himself, love was part of it. Quin and Maddie were certainly in love, and he knew His Grace adored the duchess.

Rafe sank down into the tub, letting his tired and bruised muscles relax in the welcome warmth. With all the women he’d known, he’d begun to think that perhaps he wasn’t meant to fall in love and marry. But then, he’d never met anyone like Felicity Harrington before.

And he never would again. Not could he expect her to wait about, fluttering helplessly, while he debated the course of his life. And suddenly he
was
debating that very thing. For Lucifer’s sake, eight-year-old May had more concrete traveling plans than he did.

Beeks scratched at his door. “Master Rafael,
dinner will be served in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Beeks.”

One thing was becoming clear, anyway. The reprieve Forton Hall had given him wouldn’t last forever. Soon, very soon, he was going to have to decide: a free, unencumbered life roaming the world; or chains tying him to one piece of land, and one woman, for the remainder of his life. And for once, he didn’t have the liberty of being able to make the wrong decision.

Rafe sighed and stood up in the cool evening air. Perhaps he should have become a clerk for His Grace, after all. Then, at least, he would have someone else to blame for any unhappiness.

A
few days later, Rafe was beginning to wonder whether his wish for someone to blame at Forton Hall had manifested itself as an evil spirit.

First an errant rope became tangled between a cart and the ladder Bill Jennings was balancing on, sending the farmer crashing to the ground and badly bruising his shoulder. The next afternoon, one of the stable’s new roof beams snapped while Greetham was working beneath it. If he hadn’t dived out of the way, it might have killed him.

“Maybe we’re prone to accidents,” May suggested. She squatted beside him, pulling weeds from a raised, rock-lined flower bed. With the stable trying to kill someone, he’d banished May to the garden. And she’d banished him there today, as well.

“We are not prone to accidents,” he retorted, ignoring Felicity’s stifled chuckle on his other side.

“Well, blast it then, Rafe, I don’t know what it is.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Ladies say ‘dash it all.’”

May scowled at him. “Don’t be such a stuffed shirt. I’m not a lady. I’m eight.”

“Hm.” He glanced up at Lis, a grin pulling at his lips. “She makes a good point, you know.”

“Don’t encourage her. She can’t keep swearing like a sailor forever.”

“Lucifer’s big bottom,” May proclaimed, undaunted. It was by far her favorite curse, and Rafe was continually thankful he’d amended it before the chit heard the undiluted version.

“May,” Lis chastised.

Her sister pulled another weed. “Oh, all right. Anyway, I was looking through a book last night, and I found another place for us to go.”

“Not another Arctic journey, I hope,” Rafe said dryly. “I still don’t think we’re going to survive the one you planned yesterday.”

“Excuse me,” Felicity said, standing and brushing off her skirt. “I’m going riding with James in a short while. I need to change.”

Rafe looked up as she stepped past him. He knew she was leaving because they were talking about adventures again, but blast it, if she was going to bring up damned James Burlough every two minutes, then he could bloody well talk about the East Indies.

“Madagascar,” May enunciated.

He blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“We should go to Madagascar. Or you should, and then write and tell me whether you would recommend that I visit there or not.”

“So now I’m reduced to being your holiday guide, midget?”

“Well, I don’t want to go anywhere dull, of course.”

“Of course not. And what would you consider dull?”

“I wouldn’t want to go anywhere terribly hot.” She looked down at the plant she’d just pulled from the ground. “Is this a weed?”

Rafe shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. Dump it into
the bucket before your sister comes back.”

“Right. I do want to see the pyramids, though. And the Sphinx.”

“Bonaparte’s soldiers shot half its face off, you know,” he commented.

“They did? That’s barbaric.”

“I’m sure the Sphinx thought so.” He looked up as another wagon turned into the drive. More sacks of sand and piles of rocks would be arriving tomorrow, so they could mix concrete to patch the west wing foundation and the front steps. “Africa, especially in the west and south, is very hot.”

“Do they have lots of animals in the…north and east, then?”

He grinned and shifted farther down the planter. “Bushels of them.”

“
Look out!
”

Rafe whipped around. Two work horses pulling a half-loaded wagon careened around the side of the house directly toward the garden. As May stood up to see what was going on, Rafe grabbed her around the waist and vaulted over to the far side of the planter. Pushing May down against the rock barrier, he flung himself over her.

The left rear wagon wheel slammed into the planter only inches from where May had been weeding. Rock chips shot into the air with the force of musket shot. The rear of the wagon careened upward and the whole thing flipped over on its side, dumping lumber and grinding into the grass a few yards beyond the planter. A gardener ran up to grab the traces of the foundering horses, now wheeling the tipped cart around in a circle.

“You all right?” Greetham yelled, bounding around the side of the house from the stable yard.

Quickly Rafe sat up, pulling May with him. “All
in one piece, sweetling?” he asked, feeling her arms and legs for broken bones.

She nodded, her eyes wide. Relieved, Rafe rested his forehead against hers. These accidents were becoming almost predictable in their frequency. And now they were involving little girls.

“May?”

Felicity hurried down the front steps, Beeks on her heels. As he and May climbed to their feet, Rafe took a moment to consider that poor Beeks hadn’t run so much since he and Quin had been children.

“We’re all right,” May said, brushing dirt and bits of leaves from her dress. “My goodness.”

Felicity pulled her sister into her arms. “And you, Rafe?”

“Annoyed.” He turned to face the gathering workers. “Whose wagon is this?”

A big, burly man, one of the group who had come out from Chester, doffed his hat and stepped forward. “It’s mine, sir. A hornet stung old Juliet. She hates hornets.”

Rafe strode up to him furiously. “Look after your animals better. And next time make sure your damned brake is set, or I’ll test it by dragging you around behind it.”

“Aye, sir.”

“All right. Back to work!”

When he turned around, Lis was fixing one of May’s dark braids, and he took the moment to gather his scattered wits. None of the other accidents had affected him like this, and he knew why. His precious ones had been in danger this time.

“That was rather…strict, don’t you think?” Felicity asked as her sister returned to the house with the butler.

“That’s too many damned accidents,” he
snapped. “May—or you—might have been hurt.”

She came forward and touched his arm. “You’re cut.”

He looked down at it. Blood oozed from a long scratch on his forearm. “It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. Come and let me clean it.” She glanced sideways at his face. “I don’t know how to amputate limbs, and I’d hate to have to learn on you.”

Rafe relaxed a little, though frightened anger still pulled at him. “Well, if you’re worried about me.”

She led him into the kitchen and sat him at the table. “Sally, some hot water and a cloth, if you please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Felicity looked at the wound again. “You’d best take off your shirt.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “For a cut on the arm?”

She blushed. “I want to make certain you’re not injured elsewhere.”

Sally had left the kitchen to find a clean cloth, so with a grin Rafe tugged Felicity down across his lap. “Shouldn’t we remove my breeches as well, then?” he murmured, kissing her.

Lis pushed against his chest to right herself. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” she demanded, straightening her hair and then folding her arms across her delightful bosom.

She wasn’t angry, though. By now he knew that expression well enough when he saw it. “I seem to be experiencing some swelling, now that you mention it.”

The cook hurried back into the room. “Some swelling, Mr. Rafe? Oh, my goodness, where?”

Felicity stood with a choked laugh, and flung the cloth at his face. “His fat head,” she managed.

“You’re a cold-hearted lady, Miss Harrington,” he stated, amused at her good humor.

She took the cloth back from him. “Here, let’s get that cleaned up.” She wet the cloth and carefully wiped it down the length of the scratch.

“Ouch! Blast it, that stings,” Rafe protested.

“I’m sure you’ve had worse,” Lis returned matter-of-factly.

“Clean it out good, Miss Felicity,” Sally seconded. “We don’t want it turning to gangrene.”

“Ouch! Don’t worry, Sally. She’ll make sure I’m well enough to finish repairing the house.” The scratch was deeper than he’d realized; as she cleaned the dirt out, blood began flowing down his hand.

“Will you be quiet about the damned house?” Felicity snapped, paling. “I think this will need stitches. Sally, fetch your father.”

“Right away, Miss Felicity.”

Rafe gritted his teeth as a sizeable rock splinter came free from the cut. “Do you realize you just cursed Forton?”

“Rafe, you keep getting hurt, trying to help me.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

“I’m helping myself, Lis. Remember?”

“No. Oh, I need another cloth.”

The fright and concern in her dark eyes shook him. She truly did care about him that much. He put his hand over hers as she wiped the wound. “Don’t try to clean it. Just hold the cloth tight against it and it’ll stop bleeding.”

“Like this?”

He chuckled a little breathlessly. “Not quite that tight. Damn, Lis, I should have you out there lifting those supports.”

“Oh, hush. You can’t distract me like you do
May.” She knelt beside him, pressing the blood-soaked cloth firmly against the cut.

Rafe brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I know.”

Greetham hurried through the kitchen door, Sally behind him. “Sally says you need sewing up. I’ve done a dog and a few horses, but never a man. This should be interesting.”

“Marvelous.” Sally went to fetch Beeks and Felicity’s sewing kit, while Felicity kept her attention on his wound. “Greetham,” Rafe said, twining Lis’s stray curl around his fingers, “before you kill me, what kind of landowner do you think I’d make?”

“What, lad?”

Felicity’s face lost what little color was left in it. “What?” she repeated soundlessly, staring up at him.

“Well,” he continued softly, meeting her eyes and shifting to caress her cheek, “I’ve been thinking I’d like to make a go of Forton, but I don’t have much experience at it. I’d hate to knock the rest of the place down by accident.”

“You’re the fastest damned learner I ever met, excuse my language,” the farmer said as he rolled up his sleeves.

“What…what about China and everywhere?” Felicity asked, staring at his face as though she was afraid to look away.

He shrugged his free arm. “They can wait.”

“Rafe—”

“Shh,” he interrupted. He knew the arguments; they were still raging about in his skull. Right now he wanted to make certain she wouldn’t slip away from him, that he wouldn’t have to go through the rest of his life wondering where she and May were, what they were doing, how they were, whether they
were safe—and happy. “Lis,” he said softly, leaning closer to her, “will you stay here at Forton with me? Will you marry me, Felicity?”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “When—why—did you change your mind?”

Rafe gave a half smile, wondering who would laugh harder at him—Quin or his father. He was about to become an estate manager, after all. “When I realized I didn’t know how to say goodbye to you.”

She looked at him for such a long time that he began to fear she would turn him down. Finally, tears filling her eyes again, she nodded. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Rafe Bancroft.”

He grinned in relief, tugging her closer so he could kiss her sweet, soft lips. “I love you, Lis.”

“And I love you,” she returned fiercely. “Are you certain—”

“Yes, I am. You are far more important than China.”

“By God,” Greetham exclaimed, slapping Rafe briskly on the back. “Forton Hall has a new master.”

Rafe winced at the blow. He must be in love—because otherwise he’d simply lost his mind.

Felicity watched as Mr. Greetham finished wrapping Rafe’s arm in a bandage. Half of her was convinced that she was asleep and dreaming. She’d had enough of these dreams over the past few weeks almost to believe this was just another. Rafe wanted to marry her, and he wanted to stay at Forton Hall!

May banged against the closed kitchen door. “Can I come in yet?”

Greetham nodded, and Sally opened the door. May had a small scratch on one cheek, but other
wise she seemed perfectly fine. They’d all been exceedingly lucky today.

“That should do it, Bancroft,” the farmer said, tying a last knot in the bandage.

“My thanks,” Rafe said, cautiously flexing his arm.

May stepped up to examine the wrapping. “Are you certain you’re all right?” she asked, touching his hand.

He tugged on one of her braids. “I’m fine, midget. No worries.”

Felicity roused herself, trying to wipe the silly, delighted grin off her face. It would never do if May heard the news from Sally or someone else, and the cook looked to be fairly bursting already. “Mr. Greetham, Sally, will you excuse us for a moment?” she asked.

“Of course,” the farmer said. “No sense wasting daylight.” Sally looked content to sit and watch the rest of the play unfold, but Greetham took her by the hand and pulled her out the kitchen door.

May looked at her sister suspiciously. “Am I in trouble?”

Rafe shook his head. “No. I need to ask your permission for something.”

“
My
permission?”

“Yes, your permission.”

Rafe glanced up at Felicity, and she couldn’t help smiling again. Nothing would win May over faster than including her in the decision. Not that May hadn’t fallen for Rafe nearly the instant she saw him.

“All right.”

He cleared his throat. “May, I would like your permission to marry your sister. Do you have any object—”

May vaulted onto his lap and flung her arms
around his neck before he could finish. “Hurray!” she screamed.

“Good God,” he muttered, wincing.

Laughing, Felicity came forward and pulled her sister away. “Don’t kill him, dear.”

“I
knew
you would!” She climbed down from Rafe and threw her arms around Felicity. “I can’t wait to tell Mrs. Denwortle that you are not wanton lovers.”

“What?” Felicity had no idea her reputation was being spoken of in such unfavorable terms—or that it was so widely discussed that even May knew of it.

Rafe stood. “I’ll tell you later.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her again.

Absurdly enough, she wanted to thank him—for being her anchor and her rock, and for loving her enough to give up his plans for a lifetime of adventure. Felicity pulled away a little to look into his light green eyes. When she’d first encountered him, Rafe had been anything but an anchor. And even now she had to wonder whether her wind-tossed pirate king had really thought this through, and really meant to stay.