The Reckless One (26 page)

She reached for him. He dropped to one knee, sliding his arms beneath her and lifting her clear off the linens, crushing her to his naked flesh. He inhaled sharply. “Dear God, you feel good.”

She twisted in his embrace, dragging her nipples across his chest. The sensation was carnal, the sweet abrasion causing the peaks of her breasts to throb. She rubbed them again in the soft hair on his chest, assuaging the ache.

He clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowing with pleasure. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his head close, drinking in the scent of him, the crisp, silky texture of the loose curls between her fingers.

“You are beautiful, too beautiful, and I want you too much,” he whispered, and she realized that he worried he would hurt her.

She didn’t. He’d shown her the most exquisite care, given her profound pleasure, and taught her passion. She’d taken all he’d had to give and offered nothing in return. Except her love, and that she gave in abundance. Now she wanted to please him, to show him her love in the most intimate way possible.

She gripped his upper arms, reveling in the feel of his muscles bunching beneath the clear, smooth skin. She pushed. He was heavy. She would never have been able to dislodge him by her strength alone and yet he shifted at once, his gaze quiet and askance, allowing her whatever she would have of him. Or not have.

She pushed again, harder, and he acquiesced to the unspoken command by rolling on his back, catching her to keep her from falling on top of him. But that’s where she wanted to be. She snuggled down, lying fully on him, her breasts flattened against his chest, her hair a shimmering curtain flowing on either side of his rib cage.

She lowered her head and kissed his flat belly. It jerked into taut delineation. His hands, barely clasping her shoulders, tightened painfully. She opened her mouth and flicked the heated skin with the tip of her tongue.

“Favor!” The choked word came out a warning.

Her longing preempted his caution. She curled her fingers beneath the waist of his breeches, tugging the cloth down over his narrow hips. His sex sprang free. Touch alone had not prepared her for the sight of him, big, swollen, and rigid. She raised her eyes in apprehension and found Rafe watching her, his smile rueful. Instantly, her fears disappeared.

“I swear I won’t hurt you,” he said hoarsely, trying to pull her up.

She would have none of it. She twisted out of his grip and scooted farther down. Lightly, she clasped him between her palms. His hips bucked slightly in response.

She lowered her head, placing a fleeting kiss on the thick tip. He made a throaty sound, half anguish, half pleasure. It was all the impetus she needed. She opened her lips over his sex and took him into her mouth. He pulsed, silky and smooth against her tongue—

His hands swooped down to bracket her face. “No, Favor. You don’t—” Whatever else he’d been about to say was lost in a shuddering groan.

Carnal satisfaction flooded her. This strong, broad man, this huge male, trembled with the pleasure she gave him. She reveled in the power. Her ability to inspire his desire was intoxicating.

She glazed the head of his sex with her tongue. His fists twisted in her hair, his knuckles shivering against her temples in his efforts to control the building lust she drew forth with each long, sultry pull of her mouth. She did not want his restraint; she wanted his passion. She tasted the salty essence, drawing him deeper—

With a low, guttural roar, he grabbed her upper arms and hauled her up and over him, holding her upper body suspended above him. His biceps trembled, veins roping thickly under the tanned skin.

“My turn.” He lifted his head to her breast and opened his mouth wide over her nipple, sucking the velvety peak deep into his mouth.

She gasped, her hips undulated instinctively against his thick staff. Liquid warmth seeped from between her legs.

He released her nipple and clamped his big hands on either hip, repositioning her higher on his body. She bowed backward, her hands seeking purchase and finding it on his own hips, her swinging curtain of hair lightly teasing his thighs.

He pressed his mouth to the soft flesh of her inner thigh and nibbled higher, closer to the jointure— Her eyes flew open. He’d covered her mound with his mouth, and was sucking softly.

Dear God! His tongue swept deep within the folds, grazing the nubbin buried within, robbing her of cohesive thought. Lightning raced along her nerves, spun behind the black shield of her eyelids, taunting her with the promise of more.

She moaned, no longer able to tell what he did or how. Her whole body was caught in a vortex of driving need, the pitch to the crescendo building within her with painful intensity …

The crisis broke. Her cry rose to a soundless keen as the climax engulfed her, narrowing all sensation down to one essential point. She tensed, impaled on the very apex of pleasure, rocking slightly until the feel of his tongue, flickering lightly over her sex, became too acute. She shivered, drew back. Gently he shifted and lowered her to the mattress, covering her with his body.

He came into her on a long, smooth thrust, breaking through the thin barrier of her maidenhead without hesitation. The pain was sharp and brief, supplanted by a quickening need. He stopped deep within her.

Her eyes fluttered open. He was watching her, his breathing harsh, his bronze skin dusky. He reached down and lifted first one then the other of her hands, and set them on his shoulders.

“Hold on to me, Favor. Please. Cling to me. Want me. For the love of God, hold on to me this one time.” And then he moved.

The pace he set was hard and brutal, his thrusts deep. He stretched and filled her, yet still she wanted, needed. Her recalcitrant hands strayed from his shoulders and swept down the muscular straining back to his taut buttocks. She dug her fingers into the hard round muscle, wrapped her thighs about his hips and tilted her pelvis in ancient welcome, greedily absorbing the aggressiveness of his possession.

Just this one time. Just once to last the rest of her life.

Climax after climax seized her and carried her like a scrap on a tidal wave, peaking and crashing, wild and tumultuous and exquisite. Suddenly Rafe tensed. He rose like Vulcan, hard and burnished beneath the sheen of sweat, masterful and potent. He braced himself on his arms, and with a deep cry, pushed deep within her. He held himself still, his body shuddering with his release.

When it was over he sank down on her, heavy with repletion. He slid his arms beneath her, cradling her tenderly.

She started to rise.

“Stay, Favor,” he said softly. “Rest with me. It isn’t only sex I would have but its sweet aftermath, too. Stay.”

“I can’t. He’ll send a servant. We’ll be found.”

She tried once again to free herself but her attempt was a pitiful parody. His sadness bound her to him. She allowed him to draw her back down to his side and wrap his long arms around her. She laid her head on his chest and listened to the low, deep beat of his heart. And there, against all chance, she fell asleep.

“Raine! Rouse yerself! Carr is up!” Gunna stood in the bedchamber doorway, the light from the hall making a black silhouette of her misshapen figure.

Raine surged upright, carrying Favor with him. Instinctively, he shielded her.

“Rafe?” He heard her voice, soft and groggy, yet a sliver of fear sliced through it.

“It’s all right, Favor.” He mouthed the words knowing them for a lie. It was not all right. How could it be? She would hate him and he would have to live with that hatred the rest of his life.

“But who is that? What does she say?”

“Raine,” Gunna repeated. “There’s no time for this. He’s up and he’s looking for her. ’Tis only a matter of time before he comes here.”

“Why does she call you Raine?” Favor whispered. “Why… Dear God.”

He closed his eyes. He’d hoped … for what? Another hour before he was destroyed?

“Because that is my name. Raine. Raine Merrick.”

Raine felt her scuttle away from him, dragging the bed linen with her. He turned. She was staring at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes, her golden hair streaming about her bare shoulders.

“No.” She shook her head. “It cannot be.”

“Yes. I’m … I’m so damn sorry.”

“Sorry? Dear God, that’s how you knew about the Trust and the castle and all about Carr and what he … why?” The last word was a heart-wrenching whisper. “Why?”

“I didn’t want Carr to know I was here. Then I found you and later I discovered who you were. I owed you my life, Favor. I thought that if you knew my name you wouldn’t allow me to help you—”

“Help me?” she echoed, lifting the pitiful sheet as though that could somehow hide her from him. “And making me an adulteress is how you
helped
me? By cuckolding your father?”

She scooted off the far side of the bed, backing away from him. Her eyes revealed her horror.

“Raine!” Gunna shut the door and hobbled forward.

“You said you’d kept him sick with some drug!” Raine said desperately, keeping his gaze on Favor who trembled before him. “That he’d be abed. You’re probably misinformed. He’s probably still sick.”

“Nay!” Gunna said. “I saw him myself. He must not have drunk the drugged water this morning. If Carr finds ye in here with her he’ll kill ye!”

A sob broke from Favor, dispelling all other considerations. “What sort of hellish family is this? Did you see bedding me after my marriage to him as a chance to pay him back for the years you spent in prison?”

“No, Favor, I swear it’s not so.” He stretched out his hand; only on seeing her expression did he realize he was still naked. With a snarl he rose, snatching up his breeches and pulling them on. Gunna grabbed his forearm. “Raine!”

Angrily he shook her off and went to Favor. She backed away from him, panic suffusing her lovely features. “No. No. Oh God, how could you?”

He’d no choice but to tell her now, with Gunna hovering. “You’re not an adulteress, Favor.”

“What?” Favor whispered.

“You married
me
last night, Favor. Not Carr.”

“No,” she breathed. “Impossible.”

“ ’Tis true. Gunna kept Carr drugged while I rode to an abbey south of here. The Abbess there owed me a good deed. She sent her priest here.”

“But the valet …” She was trembling, her skin blanched white as cream. He longed to enfold her in his arms, took a step forward, and saw her gaze dart wildly about, seeking escape. He had to keep talking, trying to explain.

“Rankle stood proxy for me, knowing that while he played the part of Carr’s stand-in he was in truth acting for me.”

“Why?”

“You’ve seen how Carr treats his servants. Rankle was only too happy to repay him in kind.”

“But the certificate! Muira said it was all in order!”

“Muira believed what she wanted to see. The certificate named R. Merrick as your husband. It gave no peer’s title.”

“R. Merrick. Raine Merrick.” She swayed slightly.

“I couldn’t let you marry him, Favor. He would have killed you. This plan, this godforsaken plan of yours, could never have worked.”

“You
stopped it from working. You stopped me from repaying my obligation,” she said, a new horror in her voice. “You ruined it all. Why … Oh God.” Her head shot up and she gazed at him out of terrible, wounded eyes. “You even made love to me this morning to ensure the marriage couldn’t be annulled. Didn’t you?”

He could not deny the charge. In truth he had entered her room with just such a motive. But that motive hadn’t survived the passion that had ignited as soon as he’d seen her. Then his only consideration had been to make love to her, to find in a life rife with pain and regret and sorrow one short interlude for love. But she was right, that hadn’t been his plan when he’d gone to her. She read the guilt on his face and flinched.

“Not in the end,” he whispered hoarsely. “Not—”

“Go!” she panted desperately. “Get out of here! Leave me! Go!”

“Favor, please, I beg you—”

“Go! Haven’t you done enough? Stolen my heart, my honor, and my pride and—go!” She crumpled to the floor, sobbing. Her slender back, so vulnerable and pale, shook with a tempest of tears.

“Heed her,” Gunna insisted, yanking on his arm. “Ye’ll do no good here, Raine, and ye’ll surely do her no good dead!”

“Won’t I?” Raine asked numbly, staring at the slight figure at his feet, afraid to touch her, unable to leave.

“Think!” Gunna ground out. “Carr will kill ye and take yer place, Raine. No one knows yet about the marriage. Rankle can be silenced and Carr’s Christian name still begins with an ‘R’.”

She was right. He couldn’t die. He had to leave.

“Favor …”

She huddled closer, refusing to look at him. With an oath, he swung away and strode from the room.

She heard him leaving with the old hunched woman in the veil. For a long moment she lay where she’d fallen, huddled among the tangled bedsheets still scented with their lovemaking.

Raine Merrick: Rapist. Her enemy’s son. Her betrayer. Her husband. And soon Carr would come … and he would want to know … and Muira was gone … and she was alone, far more alone than she’d ever been before because even last night she’d had Raf—Raine. She jerked upright, the thought a physical pain.

She had to get out of there. Leave. But where? All her life she’d been shunted from place to place. The small town of her birth, these fatal shores, the French convent. She had no home. She’d only had her goal and that had been rendered unattainable. She only knew she couldn’t stay here.

She rose and dressed with trembling haste. Quickly she donned a cloak, then she opened the door to the hallway and peeked outside. No one moved. She crept down the corridor, past the main staircase to the servants’ stairwell, and descended on clattering heels. Downstairs she hastened through the kitchens and larders, the curtseys and bobs of startled servants following her progress.

She burst through the back door and raced across the small open courtyard for the stables. There she stole inside. A surprised groom harnessing a team of matched grays stumbled to a halt and tugged his forelock submissively.

“Where is Jamie Craigg?” she asked him.

“He be—”

“Right here, Miss Donne.” The giant emerged from a stall, wiping his huge paws on a leather apron.

“Where’s Muira?”

Jamie darted a warning glance at the groomsman. What matter? It was all over now.

“Mrs. Douglas
drove herself out early this morning,” he said. “She said she was going to visit relatives up north and would be back by dinner. Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss, but ye don’t look so well. Are ye all right?” His craggy face was riddled with concern.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Except I have a desire … that is I
need
to go away.” She prayed he would not ask her where, for she did not have any idea. She only knew she had to leave and Jamie was her only hope.

“Now, Miss?”

“Oh yes, please, Jamie.”

Again he darted an anxious look at the groom, who stood watching with undisguised interest.

“Please.”

“Of course, Miss. Right away, Miss. I’ll just hitch the carriage and we’ll be off.” He turned away, his gaze passing scathingly over the eavesdropping groom. “Ye can tell me where once we’re on our way.”

In the end there was no place to go except her brother’s manor twenty miles inland.

“What has happened? I returned to the castle to find Carr beside himself and the two of you missing.” Favor heard Muira’s voice rise stridently from the small entry hall below. She heard Jamie’s low rumble in reply.

She rose from her chair. She would not hide up here from Muira. Muira no longer mattered. Nothing mattered.

“What did Carr say?” Jamie asked.

“I didn’t speak to Carr, you great oaf! I couldn’t very well show up without his doting bride, now could I? Nor tell him she’d fled like a rabbit from a hound. I come straight here to fetch her back and that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

“The girl is sick, Muira,” Jamie muttered. “As white as new snow and eyes as bleak and deep as a new dug grave.”

“I don’t care. Where is the silly bitch? I’ll teach her to—”

“I’m here, Muira.”

The old woman swung around and looked up at where Favor stood on the landing. “Get your cloak on!” she spat. “Your husband’s waiting for you.”

“No. He’s not.”

“Stupid girl, he’s not had you yet. He can still have the marriage annulled. Now get down here!”

Favor laughed, a hopeless choked sound. In response, Muira stormed up the steps, grabbed her arm in a viselike grip and wrenched her forward.

“No.” Favor shook her head frantically. “No! Listen to me, Muira! Listen!” Her shout had the desired effect. Muira dropped her arm.

“I didn’t marry Carr. I married his son, Raine!”

Muira turned to Jamie. His forehead rippled with a fierce frown of confusion. “And you said
I
was daft,” she muttered grimly. “Well, mad or no, she’ll lay beneath Carr this day.”

“I will not. I’ve already lain with his son. My husband.”

The supreme confidence in Muira’s expression faltered. “She’s mad.”

Favor looked past her to Jamie. “ ’Twas Raine Merrick who we finagled from that French prison. He came to Wanton’s Blush without Carr’s knowledge, seeking McClairen’s Trust. He found me instead. But he didn’t tell me who he was, I swear it.”

“Oh, lassie,” Jamie breathed.

“Ignore her,” Muira said flatly, but something skittered behind her opaque eyes. “She’s just looking for some way out. And she’ll not find it.”

“You foolish old woman! ’Twas Raine who danced with me at the masque. ’Twas Raine whom I stayed with that night. ’Twas Raine’s name on that certificate.”

She could see Muira’s throat working convulsively. “No.”

“Look at it!” Favor said, and the old woman withdrew the folded sheet from her bodice with trembling fingers. “It says ‘R’ Merrick, ‘R’ for Raine not Ronald. If it were Carr I’d married, the paper would read ‘Merrick, Earl of Carr.’ Look! What date does it give for my groom’s birth?”

Her answer was a howl of rage that rose from the depths of Muira’s belly. Fearfully, Favor backed away. Muira crumpled the certificate into her fist and tore at the rumpled wad, tearing it to pieces with hands whose bones showed white. When she was done she hurled the pieces to the hall below and swung around.

“NO! I won’t let this happen. All the years, the planning, the sacrifices and scratching to make … No! McClairen’s Isle will be the McClairens’ once more!”

Jamie, his face still and wary, moved cautiously up the steep flight of stairs. “It’s over, Muira,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” she panted, her gaze wild and staring. “It’s not over. There has to be a way …” She swung on Favor. “You vile thing. You wretched curse on our clan!”

Her words beat at Favor, each word a blow. “For what did you sell out your honor and your debt?” Muira demanded.

“I didn’t know. God help me, ’tis true I love … loved him but I swear I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t know ’twas Raine Merrick I married. I swear I thought I’d wed Carr! I only learned of his duplicity this morning after he …”

“Tupped you,” Muira finished in tones so ugly Favor closed her eyes. “Who else knows of your filthy betrayal?”

Favor flinched before the raw hatred in Muira’s voice. “No one. Only the priest and the valet and Raine.”

“Raine,”
she sneered. “Could you not have waited to lay with him? A few months and I would have made you a widow.”

She laughed at Favor’s bewildered expression, a dark and hideous sound. “Oh, so innocent! Did you not ken that was part of the plan, dearie? Did you honestly believe I’d trust God to take Carr’s life before yours? God is not to be trusted. I planned to kill Carr within the week.”

Murder?
She should have known. She should have realized. But she hadn’t. Yet another thing she was guilty of, but at least in marrying Raine she had been spared a part in murder. “I would never have agreed to let you kill Carr,” she whispered. “No matter how evil he is.”

“Of course not,” Muira sneered. “You haven’t the guts. You’ve too much blood of your whey-faced mother in you and not enough McClairen. You sold us out to squirm beneath a rapist, to grow a belly full of Merrick demon. May the fires of hell consume you!”

“Leave off, Muira!” Jamie said, his voice cold with warning. “Merrick never raped that nun and well you know it. Merry confessed her guilt and absolved him.”

“What?” Favor asked. “All these years you had me think I’d traded my people’s lives for a rapist.”

“What matter?” Muira sneered. “He’s demon spawn and I’ll see him to his rightful home in hell. There’s time yet to make this work. The valet and priest can be dealt with later. And once I find—”

“No!” Immediately Favor grasped the black permutations of Muira’s mad thoughts. “No, you—”