To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield (5 page)

“I shall look forward to teaching you—many things—over the course of the week.” His voice, filled with a husky promise of all things decadent, plucked its way down her spine.

Caitlin sent up a silent prayer for forbearance. What an impossible man! It was difficult to concentrate when he stood there looking so rumpled, and unrepentant, and utterly gorgeous. Her eyes kept sliding towards the sliver of tanned neck and chest exposed by his open shirt. The absence of a civilizing cravat or a waistcoat lent him a reckless air of danger.

She’d best remember that when one played with fire the burns hurt. Her stomach pitched; her hands trembled. Her heart seemed to have slipped its moorings and anchored in her throat.

Lord help her. She tried to resist but she couldn’t stop herself from taking one last lingering look at his chest.

“Lady Southall?” The amusement in his voice told her he knew exactly what she was thinking, and the effect he had on her.
 

Her face flooded with heat. She straightened and held her head up high. “I look forward to teaching you how to lose—and I don’t care if it’s gracefully—just so long as you lose.”

With that she swept from the room as majestically as she could, given her attire.
 

Little did she know that three pairs of eyes followed her departure with a great deal of male appreciation.
 

Henry flashed a smile at the other two men before following Caitlin from the room and closing the door.

“Larissa.” Dangerfield held Marcus’s amused gaze. “Go to bed. It’s late and I have some things to discuss with Marcus and Henry.”

She pouted but did not contradict him, no doubt sensing his mood. That’s what he liked about her. She knew when to leave him be.

“Will you join me later?” she asked.

He looked at her for a long time before replying. “Probably not,” he said at last. “It’s late. And you and the ladies must leave first thing in the morning before my mother and brother arrive home.” To pacify her jealousy he swept her into his arms and gave her a deep and thorough kiss. “I’ll see you at the end of the month in London. Off you go.” And he all but pushed her out the door.
 

He was shaken by how little desire he felt for such a beauty. His body wanted someone else. Someone he should not want. Lady Caitlin Southall.

Marcus sighed. “Another mistress soon to be discarded, I wager. Giving up the lovely Larissa? Tut tut. You badly want Caitlin Southall in your bed. There is no way you’d risk losing Mansfield Manor if you didn’t. To procure it for Jeremy has been your driving ambition for over fourteen years. Now to risk losing it and ending up leg-shackled speaks volumes. And you are—risking marriage, that is. A part of me wonders if that is actually your plan?”

Dangerfield’s eyes narrowed as he lit a cheroot. “I risk nothing.”

Marcus continued. “You always said that, despising love—as we all do, except perhaps for Henry—you’d marry for your convenience. What is more convenient than marrying Caitlin Southall? I know you, Harlow. You’re appalled that you’ve allowed her father to gamble away a house in trust for her.” Marcus also lit a cheroot. “One wonders why you simply don’t offer her marriage. A perfect solution. She seems desperate to gain the house back. Perhaps desperate enough to marry ‘a man like you’ if I remember her words correctly.”

Dangerfield wasn’t surprised at his friend’s insight. As soon as Caitlin appeared in his house, late, unescorted and dressed so inappropriately, he knew his fate was sealed. But he couldn’t stop from playing with her. Her damned pride and her blatant lack of respect for him had him wanting to bring her down a peg or two.

The fact Mansfield Manor was supposedly in trust for her made him feel better about the leg-shackle in which he was now caught. For his mother would learn of her visit, and once she knew what Lord Bridgenorth had done to Caitlin—stealing and gambling away her inheritance—Harlow would never hear the end of it. His mother would insist on his doing right by her.
 

Besides, Marcus knew him too well. He
did
want Caitlin in his bed, and with a consuming passion that terrified him. He could not allow that to happen without marriage.

Before he could reply, Henry arrived back in the room bristling like a wounded bear.
 

“Dangerfield,” he snapped. “If you go through with this appalling wager and force her into your bed you, my man, are going to marry that girl. I’ll not stand by and see her dishonored. She came here out of desperation, and you’ve taken advantage of her.”

Dangerfield tightened his lips around the cheroot and drew in a deep breath before deliberately removing the cigarillo and blowing smoke directly toward Henry’s saintly glower. “You’re assuming I’ll win the contest. With a woman like Caitlin Southall, one can never be sure of victory. Each time I’ve tangled with her I’ve come out the wounded party.”

Henry waved the smoke away and dropped into a chair. “Well, I’ll not stand by and see her ruined. She’s already had to suffer a despicable father.”

“Oh, do be quiet. I have every intention of marrying the chit.”

“Yes.” Marcus thumped the arm of his chair. “I knew it.”

Henry blew out a breath. “You are? Good. I’d hate to have to call you out. I realize you haven’t spent much time around ladies of the
ton
, but I did hope you’d not forgotten how to behave like a gentleman.”

“To the future bride.” Marcus raised his glass in a toast. “I’m not surprised you want her. She’s all fire and brimstone wrapped in a curvaceous package of soft skin and silken hair. Imagine unleashing all that passion in your bed.”

Harlow fought down the urge to strangle him. “I’ll have you imagining no such thing. She’s to be my wife.”
 

And he was serious. When he’d seen Marcus raise Caitlin’s hand to his lips he’d wanted to slice his friend in two. Never had he had such a primal and possessive response to a woman. There was no doubt Caitlin Southall had wormed her way under his skin. He was more than sure that once he’d married and bedded her, the itch would be scratched. Then he could get on with his life, knowing he would satisfy his mother’s desire for an heir.

With Caitlin as his bride he could still give Mansfield Manor to Jeremy. He’d buy her any other estate she wanted as a wedding gift, but Jeremy got Mansfield Manor. He deserved it.

Other than that, there was no reason why Caitlin Southall need change his life in any way.

“May I ask what you hope to gain from this silly wager then? Why not simply offer her marriage?” Henry’s interest appeared genuine.

“She won’t marry me if I merely ask. She has too much pride.”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “Once she’s compromised she’ll have no choice, is that it? Drastic, I must say. What happened to the Dangerfield charm? Why can’t you simply seduce her? I’ve never met a woman who did not desire to marry a duke.”

“Caitlin is not like most woman,” Harlow muttered dryly.

Henry’s eyes bored into his, “Are you sure this is the right course to take. If you feel nothing for her...”

He felt something for her all right. “When she originally walked in, I couldn’t think of anything worse than marrying the hellion, male dressing daughter of bloody Bridgenorth. However, on reflection, I believe she’d make me a perfect Duchess.”

“How so?”

“There is no denying she’s enchanting. Getting an heir will prove to be very enjoyable. She’s local. The villagers love her. And she prefers the country to town.” He took a large gulp of brandy. “Which will leave me free to spend the majority of my time in London away from her, knowing my interests in Shropshire are in good hands. A marriage for my convenience.”

Marcus gave a gruff bark. “What of your mother? Will she mind having Bridgenorth’s daughter—and, of course, Jeremy’s half-sister—living here?”

Dangerfield merely quirked an eyebrow. “Mother is fond of the girl and bears her no ill will. I suspect she’ll be pleased with my choice. She’ll assume my marrying a local girl means I intend to settle down at the estate. She couldn’t be more wrong.” He stretched his legs out and sighed. “As for Jeremy, he already knows she’s his half-sister. Besides, once he has Mansfield he’ll be too busy on his estate to care who I’ve married.”

“But,” Marcus said, slowly, “it would appear Caitlin doesn’t know of her father’s disgraceful conduct, or of her resulting sibling. How do you think she’ll react?”

Henry answered Marcus’s question. “I suspect she’ll be pleased to have a brother. It’s tiresome being an only child.” Henry undid the cravat he’d hurriedly straightened when Caitlin had arrived. “The one person who loses the most in this is Caitlin. She loses her freedom and her house. A tad unfair if you ask me.”

Dangerfield sighed. “Henry, you are far too noble to be friends with the likes of Wolverstone and me. No one forced her to accept the wager. In fact, she offered the first challenge. And one can hardly call ending up married to a duke ‘unfair’. She’ll have everything she desires. Riches. Clothes. A home. Once she understands the benefits this marriage brings her she’ll forget all about Mansfield Manor.”

Henry pursed his lips “I’m not so sure. There is more to her than other simpering ladies of the
ton
. She cares about her home and her tenants. I don’t believe the trappings of a grand life drive her.”

Marcus merely drank more brandy, apparently bored now the parameters of the wager had been decided.

Harlow sipped his drink in contemplation. Henry was right. Caitlin had never had a Season. He wondered if lack of funds was the reason. She would have taken the
ton
by storm and probably have received many proposals of marriage. He ran his hand over the back of his neck. Why did that idea bother him?

His plan was the only correct option open to him. He might be a womanizer and a consummate rake, but he drew the line at taking advantage of a young woman whose home her disreputable father had gambled away. She’d come to him in desperation. He would not take advantage of that.

The most uncomfortable aspect of the situation was that he was not displeased at the outcome. He kept asking himself, had he known the house was held in trust for Caitlin, would he still have accepted Bridgenorth’s wager?
 

Probably not. Which meant he could never have contemplated taking Caitlin into his bed. And he wanted her in his bed. Wanted it a great deal.
 

His blood heated at the thought of her soft curves in his hands... her tender, creamy skin beneath his lips... her body moving against his in the throes of passion...

Larissa.
Thank God she and the other ladies were leaving tomorrow because he’d lost all and any desire for her. Not really unusual given she’d been with him for over twelve months—the longest he’d kept any woman. But the fact he wanted
only
Caitlin was telling.

With the number of women he’d bedded, with the many more he could easily seduce, he should not hunger for one woman to this degree. He thought he’d taught himself that one woman was much like another. But his body recognized what his mind refused to believe.

Caitlin Southall was different.

And therein lay the danger.

Chapter Four

Caitlin arrived in plenty of time for her first Faro lesson. She was early on purpose, hoping for time alone with Henry and the opportunity to play on his chivalrous nature and learn all of Dangerfield’s secrets.

She’d slept little during what had remained of the previous night. Tossing. Turning. Worrying.
 

What on earth could the Duke of Dangerfield gain by forcing her into his bed? He certainly was not short of bed partners. Why would he want the likes of her for his bed sports? Was it his ultimate revenge against her father, to see his daughter ruined?

If only she could learn why the pair hated each other so. Perhaps she could put an end to the bitter quarrel and appeal for time to reimburse her father’s debt. If she could delay the settlement until after the race at Newmarket, then she might be able to afford to buy the Manor back.
 

Henry would likely know the answer. And that was another thing. This wager didn’t sit easy with Henry St. Giles, Earl of Cravenswood. How strange. He appeared genuinely appalled at Harlow’s behavior, yet he too was a renowned rake. Perhaps some rakes were more honorable than others. Well, she would soon find out.

She halted her gig outside Ashley House, the Earl’s grey stone, impressive hunting lodge. It was a large house—much larger than she remembered.
 

A stable lad arrived to help her down and take care of her horse and equipage. She’d come dressed as the very proper Lady Southall this afternoon, hoping to remind Dangerfield of her status—a virginal, well-bred lady, and not some fallen woman he could seduce.

She’d barely had time to straighten her dress when she heard the sound of thundering hooves. She turned in time to watch Dangerfield gallop up the drive on
Champers
, streaking past the trees lining the driveway. They seemed to bend in his wake.