across the top of her breasts, found the edge of her décolletage and slipped along it, moving with lingering deftness beneath—
A jolt of molten sensation electrified her. Her eyes flew open, her startled gaze leaping to meet his unreadable one.
“Let me go,” she pleaded. “Please. I am not rich and I have no name with which others might seek to align themselves. All I own is my virtue. Please don’t take that from me.”
Was his breathing staggered? She couldn’t say. Her own thoughts were in too great a turmoil to heed another’s state, her own breath too ragged.
“Let me go,” she repeated. “Please! I don’t even know your name.”
“ ’Tis Ra—Rafe,” he said, but his hand dropped to his side and he moved back. “Though I’ve had far more intimate discourse with women who’ve had far less knowledge of me than that.”
“How dare you speak to me like this?” The words broke from her rising panic. “I’m not one of your women of the streets taking money to lift my skirts.”
“Oh, rest assured, I did not find all of them on the streets,” he said. “And I had no money to offer.”
Fire swept over her chest and throat and burned in her cheeks. “So that’s what this is about.”
She had known this game she and the rest of the McClairens played would extract an ever-stiffening price. She had not foreseen this, though.
“What’s that?” he asked, a smile loitering in his dark gaze.
“You’ve sought me in order to penalize me for my actions in Dieppe. To take your revenge in … in having me against my will,” she ended brokenly.
When she finished, he snorted in disgust. “Rest easy. Your virtue is not at risk. Odd as it must seem to you, I would like to hold on to the notion—no doubt a self-deluding one—that I might find pleasure with a woman without resorting to rape.”
At her wide-eyed amazement, he broke out laughing, shaking his head. “And as for your idea that after four long years in a hellish hole I had naught better to do with my newfound freedom than hunt you down in order to toss you on your backside … By all the saints, Madame, your conceit outstrips even my own!”
Put thus, it did seem improbable. Only someone unhinged would set himself on such a course. She felt another blush rise to her cheeks.
“What are you doing here, then?” she asked.
He regarded her thoughtfully a second before answering. “Have you ever heard of McClairen’s Trust?”
“Aye,” she answered. Every McClairen knew the legend of the lost jewels. “It’s a parure of rubies and diamonds; a necklace, earbobs, brooch, and circlet. ’Twas said to be a gift that Queen Mary gave a McClairen lady in gratitude for her aid in discovering Darnley’s treachery.”
“Aye,” he said. “That’s the one.”
She frowned. “ ’Twas lost. Probably sold to finance yet another glorious return.”
“Ah! A cynic and a Scot?” He laughed. “Who’d have thought the two could coexist in one body. As for the Trust, some say that the McClairens hid it at Wanton’s Blush and here it remains.”
“And
that’s
why you’re here? I don’t believe you.”
“Have you a better explanation? Besides the irresistible lure of breaching your own maidenhead, of course. Assuming that you aren’t lying and it’s unbroken yet.”
“Knave!” she said, more from embarrassment at his reminder of her foolishness than at his crudity.
His gaze mocked her. “I’ve been here a week already. ’Tis been an easy enough venture thus far. Carr keeps most of the east rooms empty, using them as a warehouse. So here is where my search has begun.” He swept his arm over the room.
“The McClairen Trust is naught but a child’s nighttime story,” she said gruffly. “If there were any rubies and diamonds they’ve long since disappeared. I am surprised you know the tale, though. It’s only a local legend. How
do
you know about it?”
“I had a cellmate named Ashton Merrick. He told me.”
Her
A jolt of molten sensation electrified her. Her eyes flew open, her startled gaze leaping to meet his unreadable one.
“Let me go,” she pleaded. “Please. I am not rich and I have no name with which others might seek to align themselves. All I own is my virtue. Please don’t take that from me.”
Was his breathing staggered? She couldn’t say. Her own thoughts were in too great a turmoil to heed another’s state, her own breath too ragged.
“Let me go,” she repeated. “Please! I don’t even know your name.”
“ ’Tis Ra—Rafe,” he said, but his hand dropped to his side and he moved back. “Though I’ve had far more intimate discourse with women who’ve had far less knowledge of me than that.”
“How dare you speak to me like this?” The words broke from her rising panic. “I’m not one of your women of the streets taking money to lift my skirts.”
“Oh, rest assured, I did not find all of them on the streets,” he said. “And I had no money to offer.”
Fire swept over her chest and throat and burned in her cheeks. “So that’s what this is about.”
She had known this game she and the rest of the McClairens played would extract an ever-stiffening price. She had not foreseen this, though.
“What’s that?” he asked, a smile loitering in his dark gaze.
“You’ve sought me in order to penalize me for my actions in Dieppe. To take your revenge in … in having me against my will,” she ended brokenly.
When she finished, he snorted in disgust. “Rest easy. Your virtue is not at risk. Odd as it must seem to you, I would like to hold on to the notion—no doubt a self-deluding one—that I might find pleasure with a woman without resorting to rape.”
At her wide-eyed amazement, he broke out laughing, shaking his head. “And as for your idea that after four long years in a hellish hole I had naught better to do with my newfound freedom than hunt you down in order to toss you on your backside … By all the saints, Madame, your conceit outstrips even my own!”
Put thus, it did seem improbable. Only someone unhinged would set himself on such a course. She felt another blush rise to her cheeks.
“What are you doing here, then?” she asked.
He regarded her thoughtfully a second before answering. “Have you ever heard of McClairen’s Trust?”
“Aye,” she answered. Every McClairen knew the legend of the lost jewels. “It’s a parure of rubies and diamonds; a necklace, earbobs, brooch, and circlet. ’Twas said to be a gift that Queen Mary gave a McClairen lady in gratitude for her aid in discovering Darnley’s treachery.”
“Aye,” he said. “That’s the one.”
She frowned. “ ’Twas lost. Probably sold to finance yet another glorious return.”
“Ah! A cynic and a Scot?” He laughed. “Who’d have thought the two could coexist in one body. As for the Trust, some say that the McClairens hid it at Wanton’s Blush and here it remains.”
“And
that’s
why you’re here? I don’t believe you.”
“Have you a better explanation? Besides the irresistible lure of breaching your own maidenhead, of course. Assuming that you aren’t lying and it’s unbroken yet.”
“Knave!” she said, more from embarrassment at his reminder of her foolishness than at his crudity.
His gaze mocked her. “I’ve been here a week already. ’Tis been an easy enough venture thus far. Carr keeps most of the east rooms empty, using them as a warehouse. So here is where my search has begun.” He swept his arm over the room.
“The McClairen Trust is naught but a child’s nighttime story,” she said gruffly. “If there were any rubies and diamonds they’ve long since disappeared. I am surprised you know the tale, though. It’s only a local legend. How
do
you know about it?”
“I had a cellmate named Ashton Merrick. He told me.”
Her
Similar Books
