To Rescue a Rogue (25 page)

“What?”
Mara repeated. “The man's an idiot! He believes he's in love with me. He believes I'm in love with him.”

“Not surprising when you gallivant in the night with him.”

“A mistake. I admit it. I've told him clearly—”

“You've been meeting him?”

Mara's rare anger burst into flame. She shoved him. “Don't make this my fault. It would have been nothing if you'd not turned into a killer.” At the look on his face, she said, “No. No, Dare, I didn't mean that….”

But he'd already turned and was striding toward the house.

She ran after. “Don't. Don't walk away from me like this.” She grabbed for his arm. “Stop!”

He whirled, wrenching free. “Leave me alone.”

The cold force of his words froze her and she could only watch as he disappeared into the house.

She realized she was crying when a scullery maid came out with a bucket of slops and stopped to stare. Mara pulled herself together as best she could and turned into the house and up to her bedroom, where she sat, shivering and hugging herself.

When someone knocked on the door, she didn't know how much time had passed. She went to open it, unsure whether she wanted it to be Dare or not.

It was Jancy, looking worried. “Are you all right?”

Mara tried for her normal manner. “Yes, of course. Why?”

Jancy came in and shut the door. “Because Dare told Simon he can't marry you and then refused to say anything else.

“What?” Mara rose, but the room whirled around her and she had to grab on to a chair for support. “I have to speak to him!”

“Not yet,” Jancy said, putting an arm around her. “Sit back down. I'm sure he didn't mean it.”

Mara let Jancy settle her on the sofa near the fire, wishing she were sure of that. He'd spoken so roughly, so coldly. Her misery was too deep for tears.

“What happened?” Jancy asked. “We heard about a fight in the mews lane and Dare almost killing someone.”

“It was horrible. Berkstead attacked Dare.”

“Why?”

“Because the man's mad. We were kissing…. Dare tried to reason with him…. Do you know he uses a kind of fighting to combat the opium?”

“No, what do you mean?”

Mara explained what she'd seen, though not the whole of her night time adventures. “He's so strong and fast. I thought he'd kill Berkstead, so I walloped him with a stick. And he turned on me.”

For the first time, Mara realized that her hands stung, that she had some scrapes from when the stick had flown from her grip.

Jancy looked at the marks. “Did he hurt you in any other way?”

“No, of course not.” But then Mara said, “Almost…”

“Are you afraid of him?”

“Of course not. I'm a little afraid of what he can do. And of his anger. I don't remember him ever getting angry with anyone. Before.”

“You probably never saw him when he was attacked.”

“No one would have had reason to attack him back then.”

“So why did Berkstead attack him today?”

Mara blushed. “Probably because we were kissing.” She sighed and told Jancy about the theater and the silk, and the content of the message in Chinese.

“Mara, you should have told Simon days ago!”

“I only just realized the truth of the silk, and I will never risk another duel.”

Jancy covered her mouth with her hand.

“See? I didn't tell Dare for the same reason, and because he has enough to worry about. I thought it would blow over. I never imagined that Berkstead would cling to this obsession when I steadfastly discouraged him. Now everything's ruined!”

“No, it isn't. It will sort out.”

Mara shook her head. “I ripped up at Dare and now he hates me.”

“Hates you? That's impossible.”

“I told him he'd turned into a killer.”

“Lord above, why?”

“Because I was so furious at him. For accusing me of sneaking out to meet Berkstead. And because he did. Turn into a killer. But I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't lost my temper.”

“I didn't know you had a temper,” Jancy said.

“I have the hair.” Mara sighed. “Hardly anything ever happens to make me angry, but yes, I have a temper, and now I've ruined everything.”

Jancy stood. “I'm going to order hot, sweet tea, and talk to Simon. Stay here and don't do anything else stupid.”

Mara decided that taking off her hat and pelisse wasn't stupid and did so. She washed her hand in cold water, dabbing at the scrapes. She wasn't afraid of Dare, not really, but she didn't like the trapped violence in him. It wasn't part of the real Dare.

And she was still furious that he'd leaped to such vile conclusions. She saw her plan of the layout of Castle Cruel and tore it up, tossing the bits on the fire.

Then she burst into tears. She was still sniffling when Jancy returned, accompanied by Simon, carrying the tea tray. Simon did not look pleased.

Jancy poured tea and Simon waited until Mara had drunk some before speaking. “Jancy's told me about this Berkstead. You doubtless went beyond the line to encourage him to such folly.”

Mara blushed and prayed he never knew how far beyond the line.

“I'll make it very clear to him that he'd better stay away from you.”

“You won't call him out,” Mara said.

Simon glanced at Jancy. “It would take a lot to get me to another duel. If he won't bend to pressure from me, I'll pile on Rogues until he buckles.”

Mara accepted another cup of tea. “What about Dare?”

Simon grimaced. “He's not available and I can hardly force my way into his bedroom.”

“I wish you could. I worry.”

“So do I, but he has Salter and Feng Ruyuan.”

“When you do see him,” Mara said, “tell him I will not be jilted.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “That you want to marry him?”

“You don't trust him, Simon?”

“Yes, but it won't be easy.”

“I don't want easy.” Mara sighed. “Yes, I do, for Dare, for both of us, and we will have that one day, but if I must struggle to get there, so be it. But I do hope we can leave London soon. I want to get him to Brideswell. When will this ball for Hal and Blanche be held?”

“It will take a week or so to extract the pipes and clean up the mess.”

“I was being silly,” Jancy said. “You said there's no gas flowing through those pipes anymore, so there's no need to rip them all out. We could move there today.”

“No!” Mara protested. Quickly, she found a reason. “There's Almack's tomorrow.”

“What has Almack's to do with it?” Simon demanded. “You can attend from Marlowe House as well as from here.”

“There are preparations. Jancy and I need to rest. A hairdresser is to come.” Then Mara found a reason that made sense. “We can't leave now. It will look as if we've fled Dare.”

He pushed a hand through his hair. “I suppose you're right. On Thursday, then. But we can send out invitations for next week, and begin preparations.”

“Less than a week for a ball?” Mara said.

“Musicians, food, wine. What else is needed?”

She rolled her eyes. “This is a London ball, Simon, not a hop with the neighbors.”

“Do you want to get Dare to Brideswell or not?”

Mara gathered herself. “Yes, yes, of course. It can be done.”

“It can?” Jancy asked weakly. “We'll have a poor attendance, however.”

“For the first ball at Marlowe House in years, with hints of a scandal attached? It will be a crush.”

Mara ignored Jancy's moan. “I'll do most of it, and the Rogues will help. The house is in perfect condition. You'll need more staff, but probably the Rogues can lend some. Better than bringing in strangers. For enough money the food and wine can be produced overnight. The same applies to decorations. Fresh flowers. Masses of them. For enough money, almost anything can be achieved overnight.”

Jancy gave a pained squeak.

“Cost is irrelevant in this case,” Simon said. “Sorry, Jancy, but it is.”

Jancy pulled a face, but said, “Yes, of course. I'll probably wince all the time, but I agree.”

“You don't need to see a single bill.” Mara put down her teacup. “We'll start planning immediately and order invitations engraved. That, too, will need special speed. Simon, you can leave this with us for now.” When he reached the door, however, she couldn't stop herself from adding, “If…when you see Dare, please tell him that I must speak to him.”

D
are, however, might as well not be living in the house at all. After lunch, Mara visited the schoolroom and found the children unhappy because he'd sent a message to say he wouldn't be able to visit them again that day.

Where had he gone?

A busy day was a mercy, but through it all—a visit to Marlowe House to confer with senior staff, to Fort-num and Mason, to the printers and vintners, then to a florist—Mara was never free of worry about Dare. She needed to see him so badly it was a deep ache.

That night she crept the house but caught no trace of him, and in the morning, she asked Ruth if he'd left.

“Not as far as I know, milady.”

“But are you sure?” Mara was suddenly certain that Dare had fled. She'd never imagined that people could sense the presence of others in this way, but she was convinced. “Go and ask.”

Ruth made a prune face but she went away and returned in a while with the news that yes, Lord Darius had spent the night elsewhere, but had recently returned. “Now can we decide what you'll wear today, milady?”

“I don't care.”

With a scowl, Ruth produced a plain blue dress that was years old. Mara had only brought it to London in case she should end up helping Ella in some menial task. She didn't complain, however. It suited her mood. If Dare was determined to avoid her, how could she mend their shattered situation? She didn't even bother with the corset she didn't need. In this gown, no one would know.

When she went to Jancy's parlor to ask Simon for help, he told her to leave Dare alone, even adding, “You've done enough damage.”

She burst into tears and he fled with the excuse that Marlowe House must be ready for them the next day. That made Mara cry even more. Jancy tried to comfort and reassure her, but then even she lost patience and deserted her. Mara didn't blame her. She'd hardly ever cried since being a child, but now, sprawled against the arm of the sofa, she couldn't stop.

“Mara?”

She looked up. Dare stood there, somber. No, anguished.

She gulped, sniffed, straightened, and tried for a smile. “Don't worry. I'm all right.” Tears kept leaking, however, and she brushed them away.

He sat on the sofa and took her in his arms. “No, you're not, and it's all my fault.”

She pushed back to look him in the eye. “If you say things like that, I'll cry again.”

“You're still crying now,” he pointed out, wiping tears with his thumbs. “My dearest Mara, what am I to do?”

“Say that again.”

“What am I to do?”

He was teasing, which stopped her tears like a plug.

“My dearest Mara,” he repeated, but he rested his forehead against hers. “Don't you see that I'm like a bad horse? You are fond of me and I of you, but I could still hurt you.”

She drew him closer, held him tight. “You are not, could never be, a bad anything. As for hurt, you hurt me by disappearing, by trying to end our betrothal. No pain could every equal that, Dare. Except your death.”

“I almost hit you.”

“But you didn't. And you thought I was another assailant.”

His eyes didn't waver. “I could have killed you. I've trained in these things. It helps me to fight the opium, but—”

She touched his lips. “I know. I sneaked into the musicians' gallery three nights ago. You're dangerous, but Feng Ruyuan could kill you in a moment.”

He laughed slightly. “True enough.”

She stroked his hair. “Do you mind? That I spied on you? I meant no harm. I simply care too much not to.”

“If we are to do this, I want you to know all about me.”

She cradled his face, cherishing his cheeks with her thumbs. “I know all I need to know.”

She pressed her lips to his, but then he took over, kissing her slowly, then deeply, then as hotly as he'd kissed her in the lane. They were alone now, private now, and she had no reservations. When his hand brushed her breast, she captured it and pressed it there.

She saw his reaction when he realized she wasn't wearing a corset. She felt her nipple harden against his palm.

“Jancy's not going to come back,” she whispered. “Show me more of this. Please. If you love me, please…”

With a sigh and a groan, he began to rub his hand gently over her breast, sending ripples of pleasure through her. She pressed her hips closer. “That's wonderful.”

He pushed her sleeves off her shoulders, freeing her breasts to cool air, then to his hot mouth.

Mara melted against the sofa, liquid, languid, and yet fiercely burning, hands clutching at him, stroking him, loving him. She slid hands inside his jacket, kneading his flesh, and met his hungry mouth in another famished kiss.

When he moved over her, she felt the hard ridge of him and arched against it, driven mad by his clever mouth, by his weight, his scent, his heat. She spread her legs, urging him between her thighs. “I need you. I need you now, Dare. Now.”

But he drew back. “Mara, this is wrong.”

She grabbed his shirt. When had his jacket and waistcoat gone? When had she untied his cravat and tossed it on the carpet?

“We're as good as married. Don't stop now. I can't bear it if you stop now!”

He gathered her into his arms—“hush, hush”—and slid his hand up under her skirt and between her thighs. She opened wider, and when he pressed there, she laughed into his shoulder for the sweetness of it.

In moments she was lost, feverishly swimming in ecstasy, clutching, nibbling, kissing. He caught her cries in a kiss, as the sharpest pleasure she'd ever known shot through her again and again and again.

She might have passed out. Certainly when she became aware of hot sweat and thudding heart, time seemed to have passed. She opened her eyes to look up at him.

Various words came to mind but all seemed inadequate, so she spoke to him with kisses and with touch, trying to tell him that way how much she loved him and what pleasure she'd felt.

She longed for more, to belong to him more deeply still, but she saw he couldn't allow himself that yet. She could wait until her wedding night. For now, she would cherished him in every other way she could, pressing close, stroking his hair, murmuring her love, sensing his pleasure in these simple things.

Eventually, he stirred. “I don't know how Jancy is keeping the world at bay, but we should relieve her of duty.” He pulled up her bodice and straightened it.

“Oh, good Lord!” Mara was suddenly plunged back into the real world. She fussed at herself, then at him. “I ripped your shirt!” But then she was distracted by his beautiful, muscular chest, kissing it, licking it, tasting his sweat….

A shudder ran through him, but he pushed her away. “You enchant me. Literally. I shouldn't have done this. We shouldn't have done this.”

“Yes, we should, and if you're powerless before my magica, we'll do it again. Soon.” She reached for him, half in jest. Laughing, he escaped to stand, to fasten his torn shirt and look for his other clothes.

Mara stood to restore her own clothing, but mostly she watched Dare, loving the intimacy of the moment. He put on his waistcoat and found his cravat, then peered into the small mirror on one wall as he did skillful things to it.

“Why don't men just knot a cloth around their necks as they used to?” she asked.

“I don't know why we wear such things at all.” He finished, pulled on his jacket, and turned to her. “Do I pass muster?”

She went to fiddle with his clothing, mostly because she wanted to. Then she turned for inspection. “What about me?”

“Remarkably in order. And,” he added, stroking her bodice, “there is nothing at all lacking about your breasts.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks, but it was a flush of pleasure. “You don't mind? That they're small?”

“My dear idiot.” He offered an arm. “If we're to retain a scrap of sanity, we must leave this room.”

Mara took it, but she asked, “Are you all right now? You know you could never hurt me?”

“On the contrary,” he said, “I'm sure I will. But as little as possible. That I vow.”

Mara had hoped all the shadows were gone, but she tried not to show disappointment as they stepped out into the corridor. There was no sign of Jancy. No sign of anyone, in fact.

“The world has come to an end?” he asked.

“It's certainly changed, but this house is often like this. It's why I've been tempted to wander in the night.”

“Wander as you will, my love, but by the time we return home tonight, you'll be too tired.”

“Almack's,” she said, astonished that she could have forgotten. She smiled up at him. “Tonight, we dance.”

If not for Almack's, Mara might have dreamed the day away, but she wanted everything to be perfect for her first appearance at a significant London event. She also had to keep an eye on Jancy, who was suffering an extreme attack of nerves. Jancy could never quite rid herself of the fear that she'd meet someone from her home area of Carlisle who could reveal her lowly origins.

Mara kept Jancy company during her first experience of a fashionable London coiffeur. Her thick red-gold hair was arranged into a complex confection that included an amber, pearl, and diamond tiara to match the other jewelry Jancy would wear.

Mara had to leave then to have her own hair arranged, but her curls required less work and they were soon in order and scattered with pink rosebuds and tiny brilliants. Her gown of white gossamer silk over pale pink satin was a favorite and she knew it suited her.

She rejoined Jancy to help with the final touches, and to genuinely admire the gown made from the green sprigged with gold. Jancy looked wonderful and could see it for herself in the mirror. She smiled at Mara. “I think I'm ready.”

When they went down, Simon came forward, his eyes bright with appreciation. Mara looked to Dare, whose eyes, she thought, were much the same.

“What shade is that?” he asked.

“Maiden's blush. Truly. They give colors the most ridiculous names. Do you know the old French court used to have a color called
caca de dauphin
.”

When Dare and Simon laughed, Jancy demanded, “What does that mean?”

“Excrement of the baby prince,” Mara told her.

“You made that up.”

“I did not. It's a greenish yellow. There was
langue de reine
as well. Tongue of the queen. A deep pink.”

Dare kissed her hand. “And,” he murmured so only she could hear, “
cuisse de nymphe émue
.”

Mara blushed, for the translation was “thighs of an aroused nymph.” “
Langue de coquin
,” she chided.

“How can I help but have the tongue of a Rogue?” He draped her white velvet cloak around her shoulders—and stole a kiss at the nape of her neck.

“Stop it,” she said, not meaning it at all. “I am determined to be the perfect young lady tonight.”

“Then perhaps the bodice is a little low?”

Mara followed his look down to where rosebuds nestled between her breasts. The neckline only just covered her nipples. “It's the fashion. And the bounty is the deceptive work of an excellent corset. As you know?” she added, with a look.

“You were going to be a perfect young lady,” he reminded her.

She laughed as they went out to the carriage, but suddenly realized that he must already be hours past his last dose. Her look must have been eloquent, for he said, “I took my dose later than usual. I can survive.”

“I'm glad we can speak about it.”

“I wish there were no necessity.”

She sought the right response to that, but they were at the carriage door and Simon was urging them inside.

 

Almack's was everything Mara had hoped, being packed with the noisy, glittering elite, but as they threaded their way into the crowded rooms, she was more concerned with her charges—Jancy and Dare.

Jancy was clinging to Simon too much, but at least he was at ease. He'd probably never attended an Almack's assembly before, but he and she shared an ease with new people and new situations. It was a bold confidence that could sometimes lead them too far. Simon had almost died in Canada, and she had almost ruined herself that night with Berkstead.

She resolved to be very careful tonight.

Dare didn't need her care. He was being greeted by friends left and right, and if anyone was concerned about opium, they were hiding it. Lady Downshire, one of the patronesses, paused to ask after his health and fondly admonish him to behave. “I don't forget the feathers,” she said.

When she'd moved on, Mara asked, “Feathers?”

He smiled. “I have to have some secrets.”