Too Hot For A Rake by Pearl Wolf

short flower spikes did nothing to obstruct the magnificent view of the sea beyond.
    Waverley came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Takes my breath away. I’d almost forgotten the sound of the sea. There’s something holy about its power.”
    “Indeed,” she said, wishing the moment would last—especially the feelings he aroused with his touch. “Oh, yes. It overwhelms me.”
    Amy sidled up to them and said, “Just as I told you, milady.”
    “Yes, Amy. It fairly robs me of speech.” Waverley and Helena exchanged glances of amusement at Amy’s determined enforcement of proper behavior between them.
    “Right pretty,” agreed Casper, who had handed the reins to Rabu and climbed down to stretch his legs.
    Helena smiled to herself, for Casper’s eyes were trained not on the coastline but on her abigail.
    Amy shook a warning finger in his face. “Don’t be standin’ there, you lout. Help milady up so’s we can go on to the castle.”
    “I know me duty, lass. Don’t be thinking you have the right to order me about.”
    “Why you, you…”
    “Enough. It’s late and Lady Fairchild is weary,” said Waverley in a voice meant to brook no nonsense.
    Casper handed Amy in first, unable to resist squeezing her waist. She pushed his hand away and rewarded him with an indignant glare, which pleased him no end.
    “Allow me, ma’am,” said Waverley, helping Helena into the coach. “Though our long journey ends shortly, a new chapter begins. As always, I remain your servant.”
    “I can take care of myself, sir,” she murmured in embarrassment.
    He leaned into the coach and ran the back of his hand across her cheek. “You’ve already taught me that, haven’t you? I shan’t forget how you saved my life. Thank you again.”
    “You’re welcome, my lord.”
    “Why so formal?”
    She smiled at him. “You’re welcome, Desmond.”
    “That’s better, sweet Helena.” He mounted his horse and led the way to the home he had not seen in years. What would he find waiting for him there, he wondered.
    Helena ignored the jolt on the road as the carriage rattled on, for her mind was on Waverley. It dawned on her that she was in danger of losing her heart to a rake. Or is it that I need to feel loved once more? With Darlington, it was one-sided. I know that now, to my regret. Is it the same with Waverley? Am I reading too much into his attentions?
    When the coach turned the bend, Waverley castle came into Helena’s view. Gun ports and musket slits facing the sea ran unevenly across its crown. Below them were mullioned windows. At one end she noted a round tower and at the other, a square structure where the original keep may have been. Behind the castle rose a taller structure. From its modern design, Helena correctly assumed it had been more recently added. The whole stood sentinel above the sea, as if meant to protect the land from marauders.
    When they reached the entryway, its large open gate listed like a sinking ship sorely in need of rescue. The coach bumped and swayed down an uneven drive lined with trees and shrubs. These had been neglected, Helena noted. She wondered why.
    The marquis was first to dismount. His eyes swept the facade, despair writ large on his face. He surveyed the visible damage to his beloved Waverley and swallowed bile.
    Casper climbed down at the entrance and lowered the steps. He offered his hand to his mistress. When he did the same for Amy, she glared at him and brushed it aside.
    The sound of the sea crashing against the wall of craggy rocks below the old castle offered Waverley momentary relief from his misery. “I haven’t heard anything quite like that lovely sound since I was a boy.”
    Helena ignored the anguish he was trying to mask, unwilling to add to his grief. “It is lovely, isn’t it?”
    “Ring for the butler, Casper,” the marquis said.
    Amy proceeded to fuss over her mistress, straightening her bonnet, tucking a stray curl in, smoothing her