The Other Duke (4 page)

Which made her hope even more that he might just agree to her terms.

“Not quite,” he said when his laughter had faded.

She shrugged. “You don’t need more.”

“Some would say a man could never have enough, but I tend to agree with you,” he said.

She swallowed hard. He was teasing her again, not cruelly, but as if they were
friends
. It was all very confusing.

“It seems to me that we should negotiate for what we will each receive if this travesty of a marriage must continue,” she said in a quick burst of words.

His smile fell and he stared at her, clearly surprised by her statement.

“Negotiate?” he repeated.

She nodded slowly.

He examined her closely for a long moment before he leaned forward. Although the gig was open, it didn’t leave much room between them so suddenly he seemed to loom up everywhere, surrounding her. She could smell the sweet hint of sandalwood and lavender, and she felt the heat of his body.

To her surprise, her body reacted very differently than it ever had to such a circumstance. Her breath came short, not out of fear, but something she couldn’t name. Her heart began to stutter in her chest. She felt hot and achy. It was nothing like she had ever experienced.

“And just what do you intend to offer me, Serafina?” he asked, his deep voice as smooth and attractive as the rest of him.

But his words broke the spell. Her mind conjured quick images of Cyril’s rough hands and cruelty. With a gasp, she turned her head.

“Freedom,” she said, her voice cracking. “I will give you a marriage in name alone, with no expectations or connections. I will give you
utter freedom
.”

Rafe leaned away from Serafina, taken aback not just by what she said, but by how adamant she was in saying it. Her pretty face was taut with strain and her knuckles were white from gripping her fists in her lap.

He had been teasing and playful with her, hoping to relax her, but now he could see he might need to take a different tactic.

“I understand your reticence,” he said softly. “You were to marry my cousin up until just a few days ago and your betrothal was one that spanned many Seasons. His sudden death must be a blow. That you could not transfer any kind of affection to another man is obvious.”

He watched her as she digested what he’d said. Her face was again unreadable and he found himself wondering if she had somehow heard about the full details of Cyril’s demise. His cousin had died driving his rig too fast while a whore fellated him. But those were details discussed by men, not with women. She
couldn’t
know, nor should she ever, so that her illusions of her fiancé wouldn’t be shattered.

“Yes, of course,” she finally said, her tone oddly flat and even more tense than her expression. “What you say is right. Transferring my affections would be difficult. So what do you think of my offer? Do not trouble me and I shall also leave you be.”

Rafe wrinkled his brow. That she was upset was clear, but the fact that he couldn’t exactly place the reason troubled him. She agreed about transferring her affections, but he had not seen her weep over Cyril nor show overly warm emotions when she spoke about him.

So perhaps there was something else at play here. Either way, Rafe had no choice but to move forward and address her new “terms” to their marriage.

“I would not trouble you, as you put it,” he said, shifting with discomfort as he tried to find a way to continue. She was a lady, after all, and might not understand. “But…we must…there are certain things we must do… things to—to consummate—”

She blushed hot, but her jaw set with grim determination. “I know what you are trying to say. So we will have a wedding night, together.”

He nodded. She didn’t seem shocked by the subject, so he had to assume she had spoken to a female relative or friend in preparation for her wedding night with Cyril. With their original wedding date now just a few days away, he supposed that made sense.

“But not just a wedding night,” he continued. “We will also need to provide at least an heir and a spare to the title.”

“Why?” she burst out, suddenly blinking far too much as she edged away from him as far as the narrow phaeton seat would allow. “
Why
?”

He frowned. She had been calm in the face of dangerously bucking horses, but the idea of bearing his children made her balk. It was very strange.

“I’m surprised a lady in your position must ask that. Because I am a duke now. Is that not the expectation?”

“But you don’t want to be a duke,” she argued. “Why live up to the expectations? Your reputation shows you delight in doing so, why should this be different?”

She was asking him things he already asked himself. Things he had answers to, unfortunately.

“Because I would not pass this burden to my brother in the event of my untimely death,” he said softly. “Crispin would be even more ill-suited to the duty than I am. It would destroy him.”

She stared at him, her panic fading, if only for a moment. “You care for him so much?” she asked softly.

“Of course,” Rafe admitted with no hesitation. “He is my best friend as well as my brother.”

Her expression softened at that admission, though she seemed to struggle with his request for a moment. Finally she nodded. “It would be unfair of me not to fulfill my duty. I can agree to providing you with sons.”

She had said the word
duty
and it hung between them. It was funny, but looking at her, brilliant sunlight dancing off her honey hair, golden on her beautiful face, what they were discussing, sex, didn’t feel much like a duty. Serafina was distant and cold now, but even if she had lingering feelings for his cousin, could Rafe teach her pleasure? After all, passion didn’t have to be linked to the heart.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” she asked, her voice soft and raspy.

He shook away thoughts of laying her naked body across his bed and said, “I was only thinking that we have negotiated, as you put it, my desires, but I don’t know what you want, aside from being left alone except for the purposes of procreation.”

She tugged her lip between her teeth and nibbled gently. The action sent a slash of heat to his cock, and he shifted so she wouldn’t see his sudden and powerful reaction.

“I would like a reasonable income so that I don’t have to beg for everything I need,” she said. “And a home of my own.”

He shook his head. “You may stay in the ducal home, Serafina.”

“No!” she said, her tone again sharp and panicky. She drew a breath that seemed to calm her, for when she spoke again her tone was much more controlled, “No, thank you. I would prefer something less…less grand.”

Rafe held back a bark of humorless laughter. “As would I.”

She smiled slightly and he examined her face yet again. There was most definitely something deeper about Miss Serafina McPhee. Beneath those calm waters on the surface, he had a feeling storms raged. He only wondered if she would ever trust him enough to let him see.

“Is there anything else?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then I suppose it is a bargain,” he said. She held out her hand as if to shake and he ignored it. “In this case, I believe a kiss is the proper way to seal the terms.”

Her lips parted and he could see protest on her face. He held up a hand. “I promised your father nothing untoward would happen, Serafina, and I meant it. I ask for a simple kiss. I promise not to ravish you.”

“Why should I believe you when you have delighted in ravishing so many women before me?” she whispered.

“I’m surprised someone would speak to you about such things,” he said, searching her face.

She arched a brow. “Everyone knows it about you and your family. You are seducers and gamblers and rabble-rousers. And
many
have delighted in telling me so since Cyril’s death.”

“Rabble-rousers,” Rafe said with a slight smile, despite her hesitation. “I have always liked that word.”

“Lived it, you mean?” she asked softly.

He grinned. “From time to time, yes. But I swear to you, on all of whatever honor I possess, that I shall not force you to do anything you do not desire. Just a kiss, Serafina. The rest will happen soon enough.”

She winced at that sentence, but then lifted her chin slightly. “Do as you will,” she whispered.

Rafe hesitated. He had kissed many a woman and none had ever seemed so resigned to unpleasantness beforehand. It drove him to change her mind about the act, about
him
. Only he had to do it delicately.

He scooted closer and reached a hand out to gently cup the back of her head. Being careful not to disturb her hairstyle, he tilted her face for the best angle. She squeezed her eyes shut and her body went stiff as his lips descended.

His mouth touched hers, just brushing back and forth against her tightly squeezed lips. He went slowly as her body relaxed a fraction beneath him and her lips became more accessible.

She was so soft beneath him, he wanted to delve deeper, to taste her, but he forced himself to hold back and pull away before he went too far. When he did so, he found her eyes wide open, watching him with an expression of shock.

“That—that was all?” she whispered.

He arched a brow. Now he
knew
she had a female confidante who had explained some of what happened between a man and a woman. Though the fact that she had apparently never been kissed before was a bit shocking. What was wrong with Cyril?

“For now,” he said softly.

She turned away from him. “Will you take me back, please?”

He opened his mouth to say more, to question her, to try to figure out why her shoulders were suddenly so stiff, her hands so tightly folded. But then he shook his head. It didn’t really matter, did it? If Serafina was afraid of him, interrogating her wouldn’t help.

And if she was just a beautiful prude, it would take time to work on that as well.

So he said nothing and simply urged his horses to turn back up the lane. This little outing of theirs had revealed a great deal indeed, and he had a feeling there was even more to come.

Rafe helped Serafina down from the phaeton and saw her gaze dart to the side yet again. Their short ride from the park had been very quiet. Whatever headway he’d felt he was making with her seemed to be gone, though he couldn’t place why.

“Did I offend you?” he asked as he held out an arm for her.

She ignored the offer and they began to walk up the stairs side by side.

“No, Your Grace, you didn’t.” Her voice was soft and her tone hard to read.

He explored her face as they entered the house. No, she didn’t seem offended. Something else had brought their small connection to a halt. It was utterly frustrating. Only days or perhaps a week separated him from his marriage to this woman, if her single-minded father got his way. Yet Rafe had no idea of anything she thought, felt or otherwise, beyond her strange negotiation terms.

He wanted to press her further for the truth, but before he could, Serafina’s father appeared in the parlor door. McPhee’s face was red and sweaty and he had obviously been working himself into a froth.

“Where have you been?” he barked.

Rafe sighed. So much for his time alone with Serafina. Now he had to deal with McPhee. He nudged passed his future father-in-law into the parlor.

“I’m sorry, did you forget our plans to ride in the park already?”

“You were gone half an hour!” her father all but shrieked.

Rafe blinked at the man’s sudden outburst. “That is hardly enough time to ride there and back, let alone have any kind of meaningful conversation. Dear God, man, you do test me.”

“We need to discuss—”

Rafe waved him off. “There is nothing to discuss,” he interrupted. “As you have stated so many times that it makes me want to scream, the contract is clear. I might argue it, but it would take months, waste money and further ruin the reputations of all involved. Not only that, but Miss McPhee and I have come to terms.”

McPhee spun on his daughter. “Terms, Serafina?”

She straightened her shoulders and gave her father a look that could have withered flowers on the vine. “Don’t worry yourself, Papa. My terms have nothing to do with what you are
due
.”

He glared at her before he turned to Rafe. “You will marry on Saturday.”

“In three days?” Rafe said as he lifted his brows. The man must be desperate to press for such a swift resolution of the matter.

“That is when the original wedding was to take place and I have every confidence that you will be able to obtain a special license before then if you exert your new influence,” McPhee said, a cruel tilt to his lips.

Rafe looked past the man to Serafina. “Will that be difficult for you, to marry me on the same day you were meant to marry Cyril?”

Serafina’s expression softened, just as it had in the park when Rafe mentioned his attachment to his brother. But alongside that softer emotion, he also felt her surprise that he would ask her leave. Was it possible no one had ever obtained her consent, even in regards to the most important moments of her life? He could not imagine treating his sister or mother in such a fashion.

“I am agreeable,” she said softly.

“Then so it will be,” Rafe said, but found himself not ready to say goodbye quite yet to his future bride. Instead, he said, “Good day, McPhee. Serafina, please escort me out.”

She tilted her head in surprise, but didn’t argue. She motioned to the door. “Lead the way, Your Grace.”

Serafina tried not to fidget as she and Rafe stood in the foyer together. It would not do to reveal her nervousness. Yes, she could admit it, if only to herself: Rafe Flynn made her nervous. But it wasn’t in the awful way Cyril had before he died. This was something…
different
. Something she couldn’t name or place, but it wasn’t entirely disagreeable.

“Serafina?” Rafe’s voice was soft and pulled her from her reverie as they waited for his phaeton to be returned to the drive.

“Yes?” she asked.

He stepped closer and suddenly his hand reached out, cupping her chin and tilting her face up to look him in the eyes. As it had in the carriage, her heart began to pound, her knees began to shake and not entirely unpleasant quivers started low in her belly.

“It will be better,” he said softly. “Better than this.”

Serafina bit her lip. What a promise to make. How she wished she could believe him. A part of her wanted to do just that, but she knew better. Until she was alone with Rafe, truly alone, she knew she wouldn’t see his real character. Despite their negotiations, despite his apparent good nature, he could be utterly cruel when the chamber door closed. And he could easily renege on any bargain they made if only because it pleased him. That was the way of the world.

When she said nothing, his lips pursed. “Come to supper at my mother’s home here in London tomorrow, alone,” he said. “You can meet my family and see we are not ogres, despite the reputation you continue to bring up.”

“My father will never agree to that,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’ll involve himself in it.”

Rafe smiled a half-smile and Serafina felt a strange desire to lean in closer. She resisted it with great effort.

“I’ll make certain your father will allow it,” Rafe said. “I may not have all the power that I desire in this situation, thanks to the contracts my cousin signed. But I assure you, I still have a great deal more than your father does. Will you come?”

She hesitated. The thought of going to meet Rafe’s family made her stomach hurt. How much more would they hate her than even Cyril’s mother had? After all, they
had
to believe she had trapped their son into marriage, that she was as grasping as her father was.

But this was yet another thing she could not avoid.

She nodded slowly. “If you can arrange it, I will be there. Goodbye, Your Grace.”

Now it was he who leaned in, his face coming dangerously close to hers. She could feel the whisper of his breath against her cheek.

“Rafe,” he corrected.

She blinked. She always thought of him by his Christian name, but to say it…

“Rafe,” she repeated, her voice breaking.

His smile broadened. To her surprise, he leaned down and claimed her mouth for the second time. Where the first kiss had been feather-light and gentle, this time his lips were harder against hers, filled with a promise that both frightened and intrigued her.

But he didn’t force his affections for long. He drew back after just a few seconds of contact.

“It seems I have a wedding to plan for. Until tomorrow.”

He released her and turned on his heel to stroll down the walkway to his phaeton. She stared after him, tracking his every move.

She was so focused on him, in fact, that she didn’t hear her father’s approach at her elbow until he spoke.

“Well done, Serafina,” he said, and she jumped before she turned to face him. He looked mightily pleased. “He seems smitten.”

She shook her head as they watched Rafe nudge the horses into movement and ride off down the drive. “I assure you, Papa, it isn’t that way.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what way it is, as long as he weds you.”

He turned and left her standing in the doorway, staring at the spot where Rafe had last been, despite the fact that he was long gone now.

Her mind turned endlessly now that she was alone to consider their encounter. She had been desperate not to marry Cyril. The very idea of it had left her on the edge of desperate acts. But though Rafe was at this point far less cruel, in a way she feared marrying him even more.

But as had been the motif of her life, she had no choice in the matter.