Heaven Scent (25 page)

Henry stared at Rafe with admiration
and camaraderie in his gaze. He gave a curt nod of kinship. “So,
what do you have in mind? A setup with one of my
shipments?”

Rafe exchanged a glance with Beau. “We
were hoping you’d agree to that. But we need to iron out the
details and decide whether we should include Hunter. Once we have
everything in order, I’ll contact you.”

“Very good.” Henry stood. “I expect to
hear from you sooner rather than later.” He placed his hands behind
his back. “I suppose you will return tomorrow to rectify things
with my daughter?”

Rising as well, Rafe said, “I’d like to
speak with her now.”

“No.” Henry walked to the door. “That
would not be wise. Give her a night’s rest and return tomorrow.”
With a furrowed brow, he turned back to Rafe, his hand on the
doorknob. “She was very upset. I have not seen her such since her
mother died.”

Damn. That was the last thing he wanted
to hear. He had to see her and make her understand what had
happened at the park today.

But, Rafe would respect Henry’s wishes.
For now. He’d come back tonight after the house was asleep. “You
will ensure her door and window are locked before she turns
in?”

His eyes widened. “I thought she was in
no danger.”

“She isn’t. But I would feel better
with extra precautions in place.”

“You would expect Kent to enter
unannounced?” Henry quizzed, with raised brows.

“After hiring a man to kill me, I would
not put anything past him.”

######

Second thoughts assailed Rafe as he
stared at Tarin asleep in bed. The last thing he wanted to do was
scare her further. And if she woke to find a man standing at the
foot of her bed, she would surely go into hysterics.

Though darkness prevailed, he could
make out her form with the faint light from the gas lamps streaming
through her window. Walking around to the side of the bed, he
watched the quiet rise and fall of her chest. Her copper hair lay
in wild chaos against the white pillow, her pale hands palm up on
either side of her head.

Despite all good sense, Rafe found
himself sitting beside her. It surprised him to smell lavender on
the bedclothes rather than roses.

Sitting this close, he could hear the
quiet snores she emitted through her small nose. He smiled. Even
with something as unladylike as snoring, Tarin performed it with
class and grace.

The next thing he knew, his fingers
were in her hair. It felt like silk in his hand. He wanted to lean
down and inhale its freshness but was afraid he’d wake
her.

Isn’t that why you’re
here?

He did need to remedy things with her.
But did he need to do it tonight? Perhaps Henry was right - maybe
he should wait. Wasn’t it enough to see her sleeping
peacefully?

Suddenly, she stirred, causing Rafe to
snatch his hand back. He sat completely still as he waited for her
to settle. Turning on her side, she snuggled into her pillow,
facing the window. The angle highlighted tear streaks on her cheeks
that had been hidden from him before.

His gut tightened. She must’ve cried
recently for the tear stains to be so obvious. If he woke her, how
did he calm her yet make her understand that he would do it all
over again in order to save her?

He watched her face scrunch up as if
she were going to cry, her mouth turning down at the corners and
quivering. She still slept.

“Rafe…” Her breathing suddenly labored,
she cried his name again.

“Sshhh…” He stroked her cheek with the
back of his hand.

Immediately, she stilled. “Don’t go.
Please don’t go.” Grabbing his hand, she brought it between her
cheek and the pillow. “Take me with you, mother,” she whispered,
clutching his wrist to hold it in place. Her snoring
resumed.

Caught in the web of her personal
nightmares, Tarin was too tired and sedated to escape. If his
presence helped her sleep, he would stay there until morning,
regardless of what Henry considered proper.

Feeling her breath on his skin, the
warmth of her body against his leg, it took every ounce of
willpower he had not to climb in bed next to her.

He felt her body tense, her hold on his
hand tighten. “Don’t touch me…”

Stiffening, Rafe didn’t move. Tarin had
told him that this afternoon in the park. Was she replaying the
scene again in her dreams? Perhaps, he should wake her.

“You are not the only one with
secrets.” She flipped on her back, releasing his hand.

Frowning, Rafe brought it back to his
lap. What the hell? What secrets? Did she know of his deal with
Henry? She had not let on prior to the incident with Duncan. What
did she mean by that?

Then again, why should it mean
anything? It was a dream. Perhaps, he needed to wake her to rescue
her from the troubling thoughts.

Giving in to the base instincts that
nagged him, Rafe leaned forward and kissed Tarin’s temple. He
stretched out beside her on the bed and waited. He had to be ready
to cover her mouth should she scream.

Inhaling deeply, she turned towards him
but did not wake.

Brushing her hair back from her face,
he kissed her forehead, her nose, before brushing a light kiss
across her lips. God, she was so sweet. “Tarin…”

“Rafe…” she whispered, stirring
again.

He kissed her mouth. She kissed him
back. Scooting closer, he kissed her again, lingering a little
longer. Her arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. She
kissed him again, with more urgency.

And hunger.

Images of rolling her on top of him
filled Rafe’s vision, causing a hitch in his breathing and his
heart rate. He hardened against her leg. He knew he could get her
to acquiescence, if he chose. But, he was not willing to delve into
the additional nightmare of his scars. And a nightmare that would
be. They had enough to deal with.

Closing a palm over her breast, he
elicited moans from them both.

Until she shoved away from him. “Rafe?”
She backed up and turned on the bedside lamp.

Breathing hard, he frowned against the
light. “It’d damn well better be me.”

Brushing the hair out of her eyes, she
pulled the sheet up to cover herself. “What are you doing here?”
Her gaze traveled over his form.

Reaching out, he caressed her jaw with
his thumb. “You know why I’m here.”

She backed away further, out of reach.
“Are you well? What happened with that horrid man? Why did he try
to kill me?”

Hell. How did he tell her the man was
actually trying to kill him, without upsetting her
further?

“I’m fine.” He reached for her fingers,
playing with them as he spoke. “The man is in jail and will remain
there.” He glanced up at her. “And he wasn’t there to kill you. You
just happened to get in the way of his real mission.”

“Which was?” She searched his gaze.
Rafe hoped like hell he could pull this off.

“He had been paid to kill someone
else.” Rafe dropped his eyes. “Fortunately, we were able to foil
his plans.”

“Who? Why?”

Rafe shrugged. “The police are working
on that.”

Silence ensued. Rafe’s gaze snapped to
hers when she snatched her fingers from his grasp.

“I want you to leave.”

Feeling like she had punched him in the
chest, Rafe swallowed hard. “No. Your father said you were upset.
I’m not leaving until I know you’re well.”

She sat up, her gaze avoiding him. “I
am fine. I don’t want you here. Please leave.”

The words had more power over him than
he cared to admit. His throat clogged. “Why?”

Shaking her head, she played with a
thread on the blanket. “I cannot watch you die.” Tears laced her
voice. “I cannot watch you put yourself in harm’s way without a
thought.”

Moving closer to her on the
bed, he sat up and took her red face between his palms. Good God,
he hated when she cried. “Without a thought?! I
did
have a thought. My only thought
was saving
you
. I
did what I had to do to stop him. And I would do it again if put in
the same situation.” He lowered his voice as he wiped a tear from
her cheek. “I would die saving you. You have to know
that.”

“And you think I could live without
you, knowing you died because of me?” She shook her head. “No. No,
Rafe. I cannot do this.” She moved away from him.

Dumbfounded, he could only stare at
her. “So, you would prefer I do nothing if you’re in
danger?”

“No! But you did not hesitate to walk
headlong into that gun. You could have…” She waved an arm. “…tried
to convince him to turn it over or, or something.”

Tarin did not know what men like Duncan
were capable of. If he had detected a weakness, he would have taken
advantage of it and Tarin, or someone else, would have been
killed.

“And because of this, you’ve decided
you do not want to marry me?”

Renewed tears filled her eyes. “I
cannot.”

Frustration caused him to grab her jaw
and pull her face to his. “I could bed you now and you wouldn’t
have a choice.”

“You would force yourself on me?” Her
eyes were wide.

He stared at her mouth. “We both know
it wouldn’t be force, would it, Tarin?”

A deep blush blossomed on her beautiful
face and she pulled her jaw away. “Your arrogance is incredible.
You act as though no woman could refuse you.”

“I don’t care about any woman but you.
You are my future wife.”

“No, I am not, Rafe. Not anymore. The
marriage is off.”

#####

“I’m telling you, Rafe, there is no
record that Kent shipped with us.” Patrick stared at him from
behind the desk, accounting ledgers spread out before him. “You’re
welcome to review them yourself.”

Plopping down in one of the guest
chairs, Rafe blew out a breath. It was four in the morning and he
felt drained. He couldn’t get Tarin out of his head.

“I believe you, Patrick.” Leaning
forward, he rubbed his hands down his face. “Hell...”

Rafe had insisted his brother stay up
while he visited Tarin and go through all of the company ledgers
since Kent moved to Boston six years earlier. Patrick looked tired,
with dark rings under his eyes, his cravat askew, and his hair
mussed from running his fingers through it.

But Rafe had no sympathy. Tarin had
destroyed any compassion he may have had prior to seeing her
tonight. Although his intentions had been good, he had ended up
troubling her more than ever. After securing the locks and windows
again, he left, feeling as though she had ripped his heart from his
chest and thrown it in the fire of her bedside lamp.

“I still cannot believe this.” Patrick
leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. “Kent
has never given any indication of treachery.”

“Perhaps, his operation has never been
threatened,” Beau tossed out from where he stood by the fireplace,
drink in hand. Even the Frenchman looked somewhat ragged around the
edges.

“Good point.” Patrick shrugged with a
toss of his head. “So, if Duncan is telling the truth, where are
the records that he shipped with father?”

Leaning back in the chair, Rafe looked
up at the ceiling. If his father, a member of Brahmin society, was
dealing in opium, would he want the information known? While opium
use was acceptable in the medical community, leisurely use of the
powder was legal, but frowned upon. Perhaps, his father hid any
record of it.

Or used the drug himself and accepted
it as payment.

Rafe’s heart rate picked up speed. His
gut told him he was onto something. “Patrick, what was father’s
behavior like prior to his death?”

Frowning, he shrugged again. “He was
never around much, as usual. But a couple of weeks before he died,
he did start acting strange - preoccupied. Troubled about
something. Then he got sick and everything changed. He broke out in
heavy sweats with no notice, his hands shaking uncontrollably. His
body appeared weak and he slept often. He declined
quickly.”

Beau and Rafe exchanged a
troubled glance.
Sonuvabitch
. His father
had
been an addict and
was going through withdrawals before he died.

“So, what happened then?” Rafe asked.
“When was Kent called in?”

Patrick sat up. “The evening before he
died. Mother had wanted to call him days before, but Father
refused. Then Kent just appeared at the door that night. Said he
hadn’t heard from Father and wanted to see how he was fairing.
Mother ushered him in right away. When Kent left, father seemed
more relaxed and calm.” Patrick paused. “The next morning, Mother
found him dead.”

Rafe’s head fell back on his shoulders.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh hell...”