Craving the Rake's Touch (Rakes of the Caribbean) by Bronwyn Scott Page A

DeBreed was here.
    “I beg your pardon?” Sarah gathered her composure and turned to face this audacious newcomer. Good lord, what was he doing here? He’d not been invited. Even so, he wasn’t the type who came to these high-brow, exclusive affairs. Benedict was one of her brother’s friends from London, the sort of friend sisters knew about but not the sort brothers brought home, at least not often. And for good reason, as it had turned out. Benedict had proven to be an irresistible temptation.
    Now it seemed he had slipped past her defenses once again. She’d been so intent on Badgley’s heir she hadn’t kept an eye on the door. “I knew it could only be you with a remark like that,” Sarah said coolly, giving away no sign of the heat his presence raised in her. But it hadn’t been the remark alone that had given him away. She could have been blindfolded in a room with a hundred men and known it was him. She knew the subtle orange spice of his cologne, the sandalwood scent of his soap. Long-suppressed memories began to flicker to life.
    “Why not show them the goods, it’s the only thing you haven’t shown them in this travesty of a circus.” Benedict’s voice held a hint of laughter beneath his outrageous words, making it clear he had no use for such ceremony. Benedict DeBreed played games, but not the decent games that could be carried out in drawing rooms. Bedrooms were more his style. Or settees in libraries. That particular memory was alive and well, although she would have preferred to keep it buried.
    “What are you doing here? You know Ren is in Barbados.” Sarah hissed her displeasure, keeping one eye on the room, gauging the response to Benedict’s arrival. These men wouldn’t welcome any newcomer who might be another contender for her hand. Marriage was serious competition and Benedict’s reputation wouldn’t enhance hers in any of the right ways. Of course, the women wouldn’t mind, not that they’d admit to it.
    Already, people were starting to notice, starting to whisper. Badgley’s shy young heir, whom she’d been coaxing, had retreated in Benedict’s wake. Did Benedict have any idea how long she’d been working on getting the boy to relax? Now it was all for naught. She’d have to start over. She wanted Benedict DeBreed out of her very proper afternoon tea very fast!
    “I know where your brother is and that’s exactly why I’m here.” He gave her a meaningful look with those interesting green eyes that were flecked with hints of silver and sin. Wicked eyes. Nearly as wicked as his smile. She knew firsthand how easily they could lead a girl astray.
    “I need a word with you, Sarah, privately and right away.” Sarah . He presumed upon the past and his connection to the family to use her first name in public, but the undertones of urgency drew her attention. She gave him an assessing stare, noticing for the first time the windblown state of his dark hair, the dried mud on his boots and the hem of his riding coat, the high ruddy color in his face. Wherever he’d come from, he’d come straight away. Fear clenched her stomach. “It’s not Ren, is it? There’s not been word of bad news?”
    He gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. “No, it’s not Ren. Please, is there somewhere we can talk?”
    The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him, but people were beginning to notice the absence of her attention on them now that the novelty of Benedict’s arrival had been absorbed. He was ruining everything.
    Sarah made an instant decision, curiosity getting the better of her. “Five minutes, in Ren’s office. You know where it is? I’ll meet you there. But we won’t have much time.” She smiled at the earl of Badgley’s son to reassure the quiet, timid young man. He was nice, if not exciting, after a life lived under the thumb of his puritanical father. She nearly had the poor boy up to scratch along with an earl and a viscount. The last thing she needed was