Rapturous Rakes Bundle (22 page)

She was so angry that all she wanted was to get out

of the carriage and be free to walk home and forget

everything that had happened. She was furious and

humiliated and distraught, and to escape from Lucas

was the only thing that mattered now.

‘Do you know how to use that thing?’ Lucas asked,

his eyes on the barrel. ‘Hold it steady or you will never

hit your target. Which you will not anyway, since the

pistol is not loaded.’

Rebecca hesitated for a split second and in that mo-

ment Lucas caught her wrist in a vicelike grip and she

cried aloud. The pistol fell to the floor, skittered away

and went off with a loud report, burying a bullet in

the cushions of the seat. Lucas pulled her beneath him,

sheltering her body with his as the interior of the coach

filled with smoke and pieces of velvet and stuffing

rained down on them.

Rebecca sneezed. ‘It was loaded,’ she said.

‘Of course it was,’ Lucas said. ‘What use is an

empty pistol?’

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Rebecca felt another pang of misery. ‘I wonder how

long it will be,’ she said bitterly, ‘before I learn not

to trust a word you say.’

She tried to sit up, but Lucas held her still, ruth-

lessly trapped beneath him.

‘I should be obliged if you would allow me up,’ she

said.

‘I will only let you up if you promise not to pull

any more tricks like that one,’ he said. ‘You could

have killed both of us. What did you think you were

doing?’

‘I wanted to go home,’ Rebecca said. Her lip trem-

bled and she bit it viciously, turning her head aside so

that Lucas could not see the tears in her eyes.

She felt him brush the tumbled hair away from her

face very gently and shuddered at his touch. It under-

mined every single barrier she was determined to erect

against him.

‘Stop fighting me, Rebecca,’ he said.

Rebecca looked at him. ‘I did not believe you would

abduct me.’

Lucas gave her a faint smile. ‘I gave you fair warn-

ing.’

Rebecca turned her face away. She had underesti-

mated him. She would have to be a great deal more

careful in the future. How had she made such a serious

error of judgement with Lucas Kestrel? The self-

loathing threatened to swamp her. No one had ever

hurt her so much.

She struggled to sit up and this time he allowed her.

She turned a shoulder to him and stared out of the

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window of the carriage, determined not to show any

weakness.

‘I cannot simply leave my workshop,’ she said.

‘This whole matter is preposterous!’

Lucas sounded unconcerned. ‘I will have someone

keep an eye on the place for you,’ he said.

‘But my commissions—’

‘You told me that you had no work at present.’

Rebecca cursed herself. How many more unguarded

remarks had she made to him that he had stored away

and would use against her when the time was fit?

‘That is true,’ she said bitterly. ‘I do have a half-

finished set of glasses that you ordered, but as you

never actually wanted them—’

‘That is not correct.’ For the first time, Lucas

sounded angry. ‘I should be delighted to have some

of your work.’

‘As a souvenir, perhaps,’ Rebecca said.

Once again, Lucas did not rise to the provocation,

and after a moment Rebecca sighed. ‘I cannot afford

to close my business,’ she said.

‘We will pay you for each day you are away from

your work,’ Lucas said. ‘Ten guineas a day.’

Ten
guineas
a
day.
It was a fortune to Rebecca. She

set her jaw. ‘I will not accept it. I will not work for

you for money, my lord.’

She remembered him touching her hand when he

offered words of comfort over her uncle’s death. She

remembered him taking her in his arms and the blissful

pleasure of his kiss. She remembered thinking that if

one was obliged to take a lover, there would be no

one preferable to Lord Lucas Kestrel, and discovering

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that those wanton thoughts had indeed been perfectly

true. The shame and anger swept through her again at

the way he had betrayed her and she had betrayed

herself.

‘In fact, I do not want to help you at all,’ she said,

driven by bitterness.

She felt Lucas shift slightly. ‘Rebecca,’ he said,

with weary patience, ‘I appreciate what you must think

of me—’

‘I doubt it!’ Rebecca snapped.

‘But I must ask you to put aside personal animosity

for a moment to consider the greater good.’ Lucas con-

tinued. ‘The Midwinter spies are putting thousands of

lives at risk with their treasonable work. They have

already killed a man and are quite ruthless enough to

kill again if they see the necessity.’ He took a deep

breath. ‘They have to be stopped and you are the only

one who can help us get to them.’

Rebecca was silent.

‘Please,’ Lucas said again. ‘If you would not help

us because I ask it of you, Rebecca, then do it for your

country.’

Rebecca turned away. If only he knew her compli-

cated pedigree then he would think twice about putting

such an argument to her. She wondered what Lucas

would say if she told him the truth:
My
lord,
my
ancestors
travelled
to
the
New
World
before
they
returned
to
settle
here
in
England.
There
is
very
little
English
blood
in
me.

Yet she had lived in England all her life and was

fiercely attached to this country, and she knew she

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Mistress

owed it her loyalty. So she had no real choice. If only

it was not Midwinter...

She sighed. ‘Very well. I do not think I have a

choice.’

Lucas gave her a searching look as though he was

not entirely sure he trusted her, then she saw him re-

lax.

‘Thank you,’ he said. He took her hand and kissed

it. ‘You are a very good person, Rebecca.’

Startled, Rebecca whipped her hand away. It tingled

from the touch of his lips. ‘I am doing this for loyalty

and not for liking,’ she warned. ‘I trust you will keep

your distance in future, my lord.’

Lucas grinned at her as though he sensed her weak-

ness. ‘I regret that I cannot oblige you, Rebecca. If

you are to help us, then I am sworn to protect you.

These are dangerous men—and women—and I must

keep you safe.’

They stared at one another.

‘Does it have to be you?’ Rebecca said wearily.

‘Why not another?’

Lucas’s smile deepened. ‘It has to be me because I

want it to be.’

‘And I do not want it,’ Rebecca argued. ‘I detest

you, Lord Lucas. You have behaved as no gentleman

would. To be obliged to spend more time in your com-

pany merely adds insult to the injury of your behav-

iour.’

Lucas shrugged. ‘I regret that you see matters in that

way. You should know that I still mean to marry you.’

Rebecca raised her chin haughtily. ‘I do not believe

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that we need to discuss this, my lord. It is all academ-

ic now.’

‘You mistake, Rebecca,’ Lucas said softly, and

though he did not touch her his tone felt like a brush

against her skin. ‘I intend to persuade you to accept

me.’

Rebecca drew in a short breath. ‘You are clearly

deluded, my lord. You have as little chance of per-

suading me as I have of swimming the English Chan-

nel.’

‘You have consented to spend some time in my

company,’ Lucas pointed out. ‘I intend to use it well.’

Rebecca was shaking her head in disbelief. ‘It is

impossible, my lord. I shall not change my mind.’

‘We shall see.’ Lucas smiled slightly. ‘I do not ex-

pect you to make it easy for me, Rebecca.’

His implacable confidence shook Rebecca to the

core. ‘But why?’ she wailed. ‘Just because of what

happened?’

Lucas was shaking his head. ‘Not just because of

that. I want you, Rebecca. I find I want you very badly.

And the only way I may have you with honour is

through marriage. So...’

Rebecca swallowed hard. She could not trust him.

How could she, after the way in which he had de-

ceived her? And yet there was a part of her that longed

for him, longed for his touch and the comfort of his

arms. It had felt absolutely right to give herself to

Lucas and that fundamental rightness had not changed,

overlaid as it was by disillusion and disappointment.

If she fought his will, she would be fighting a part of

herself as well, and she was not sure that she was

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strong enough to do so. She looked at Lucas’s un-

yielding face and shivered slightly. He had said no

words of love to her; even in the heat of the night

when he had uttered words of sweet tenderness he had

not spoken of love. Must she compromise on that too?

She could not believe that she had entertained the idea

for even a minute. She was angry at her own weak-

ness.

She raised her chin. ‘I still do not accept your pro-

posal,’ she said.

Lucas smiled. ‘I did not for one moment expect that

you would,’ he said, ‘but I have every intention of

making you change your mind.’

‘You have no notion how stubborn I can be,’ Re-

becca said.

‘I have some idea,’ Lucas contradicted, ‘and I can

be very determined.’

‘I am aware,’ Rebecca said. She smiled bitterly.

‘We shall see, my lord. You have limited time and a

difficult task.’

Lucas took her chin in his hand and turned her face

to his. Her skin heated beneath his touch. ‘And you

are fighting on two fronts,’ he said softly, ‘against me

but against yourself as well. So you are weakened be-

fore you start.’

Rebecca jerked her head away, but not before she

had felt the tell-tale quiver of desire through her whole

body. ‘Damn you!’ she said bitterly.

‘For telling the truth?’

‘For being insufferably conceited!’ Rebecca said.

And
for
making
me
want
you,
she added to herself, for despite her furious resistance and the ache in her

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heart, there was no denying that she still loved Lucas

Kestrel and she was afraid that she always would.

When they reached the house in Grosvenor Street,

Lucas took no chances on Rebecca refusing to coop-

erate and practically carried her out of the coach with

one arm tight about her waist. He bundled her through

the front door as though she were an awkwardly

shaped parcel and finally let go of her when they were

standing in the entrance hall.

Smoothing down her cloak, Rebecca glared at him.

‘If this is your persuasion, my lord, I have to tell you

that you waste your time!’

She fell silent as the butler glided out to greet them,

determined, despite the misery inside, that she should

not show how shaken she was.

‘Good morning, Byrne,’ Lucas said, as though it

were a common occurrence for him to be manhandling

a young woman through the front door of the house,

‘has the Duke returned yet?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ the butler said expressionlessly. ‘He

is waiting for you in the small salon, with Lord and

Lady Newlyn.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucas said. He turned to Rebecca.

‘May I ask you to wait in the drawing room, Miss

Raleigh? We will not be above a moment.’

‘Very well,’ Rebecca said. She waited pointedly

whilst Byrne opened the drawing-room door and Lu-

cas ushered her inside.

He looked at her. ‘Pray do not climb out of the

window and run away or I shall have to go to the

trouble of bringing you back.’

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Rebecca gave him a disdainful look. ‘You would