Scoundrel (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 4) (14 page)

“Don’t curse at me.”

Chase glared at Faith across her bedchamber. “I intend to do more than curse before this conversation is over.”

“There’s no need to shout either,” she said. “My hearing is excellent and you’re only ten feet away.”

“You deserve to be shouted at. You’re lucky I don’t take a switch to you!”

“A switch! Of all the rude, domineering, obnoxious—”

He was too furious to listen to her complaints. He marched over, grabbed her and shook her, effectively cutting off how she would have finished her sentence.

They were back at the villa, the girls in their old room and tucked in for the night. Sister Rowena had gone to her room too. At least he thought she was in her room. During the debacle, he’d received the distinct impression that there was mischief brewing between her and Ralston. But Rowena shouldn’t be flirting with Ralston, and Ralston shouldn’t be encouraging her.

As far as Chase was aware, Rowena was returning to the convent, and Ralston oughtn’t give her a reason to consider any other path.

“Be silent for once,” he told Faith.

“Me? You’re the one who’s yelling.”

“That’s because you deserve to be yelled at.”

“I was minding my own business until you barged in and raised a ruckus.”

“Yes, and I’m not done.”

“Pipe down or you’ll wake the girls. They’re extremely upset. I’m surprised they were able to calm enough to fall asleep.”

“Whose fault is that precisely? Tell me that, would you?”

The question stopped her in her tracks. They both knew who was responsible, and he took no pleasure in pointing out the truth.

She gazed up at him, her blue eyes poignant and forlorn. “It’s my fault, and I’m sorry for being such a gullible fool.”

She wrenched away and went to the French windows to stare out at the dark sky. He came up behind her, and while he ordered himself to keep his distance, he couldn’t. He stepped in so his front was touching her back.

“You swore you’d stay at the villa,” he said. “You promised.”

“I know.”

“You lied to me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She turned to him and absurdly claimed, “I don’t want to discuss it.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad, Faith, because I plan to hash it out to the bitter end.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“You think I’m not? You could have been killed today. You could have gotten
me
killed. Is that bothering your pious little conscience at all?”

“Yes, I’m very bothered.”

“You couldn’t prove it by me. You refused to heed me so you brought about this whole dilemma.”

“Yes, and I’ve admitted it so why continue to harangue?”

“I warned you it was dangerous to traipse off on your own. Did you imagine I was joking?”

“I realized there could be trouble.”

“Trouble! You haven’t a clue as to the calamities that can strike in this despicable land.”

“I have some idea. Don’t forget I was on a plague ship watching while dead bodies were thrown overboard.”

“Yes, and then you were quarantined, robbed, and left to your own devices. That’s the sort of criminal who roams this part of the world. It’s the sort who’d abandon two nuns and three young girls in a foreign country with no resources.”

“I had to find some assistance,” she mulishly contended.

“You couldn’t have trusted me?”

She scoffed. “Trust you?”

“Yes, trust me. Did I, or did I not, apprise you that Ralston and I would work on a solution.”

“Yes, but any delay meant we had to remain here.”

“Where you were safely sheltered and living under my protection!”

He was yelling again, and he couldn’t understand why he was in such a dither.

He coasted through life, generally happy, never distraught. He never cared overly much about any issue, so there was never a topic to enrage him. For some reason though, she had goaded him to insanity. Why had he let her?

“I was under your…protection?” She uttered the word
protection
as if it was an epithet.

“Yes. Was it so horrid? You had food to eat and servants to tend you. You had water to drink and soft beds to sleep in. I’ve been in Africa a lot longer than you, and I can tell you that none of those boons should be discounted.”

“Mr. Hubbard, you are loafing in another man’s house, a man who could come back any second to take possession.”

“What has that to do with anything? He hasn’t come back so he’s completely irrelevant to our current situation.”

“You have availed yourself of all that is his.”

“Yes, and I intend to keep availing myself until someone arrives and orders me to stop. You staggered in here with nothing, not so much as a change of clothes or a penny in your purse, and when you were suddenly safe and comfortable, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“You strut about half-naked. You consort with…pleasure slaves!”

“So? I am not your husband or your brother or your father. What business is it of yours how I comport myself?”

“Millicent and I saw you in a carnal dalliance!”

“First of all,
you
shouldn’t have been looking, and second of all, there was no harm done. Why work yourself into a lather over it?”

“We can’t stay! With how you carry on, as if there are no rules or moral codes, it’s impossible!”

She was shouting now too, and he was delighted to have finally prodded her into a reaction.

“You witnessed behavior you didn’t like—that didn’t hurt you, I might add—so you’d rather take your chances with strangers than with me? Is that your position? For if it is, I must inform you that it is the most patently ridiculous thing a woman has ever said to me—and women have said some outrageously ridiculous things.”

She glared, her temper on a slow boil, so he couldn’t decide if she was about to slap him or scream at him. Ultimately she mumbled, “You don’t understand, and I’m weary of explaining myself.”

She shoved him away and walked out onto the verandah to stare up at the stars. He dawdled in her bedchamber, desperate to march over and continue their quarrel, which vexed him enormously.

There was no point to bickering, but though he’d never admit it in a thousand years, he was waiting for her to express a bit of gratitude for how he’d rescued her. He never stuck his neck out so the fact that he’d risked life and limb for her was shocking. Was it too much to expect a little appreciation for his efforts on her behalf?

He should have spun and proceeded to his own bedchamber but—almost as if a magnet was dragging him forward—he stepped through the door and went over to her.

“Go away,” she said as he sidled up.

“We’re not finished talking.”

“Yes, we are. You simply want to bellow and blame, and I’m too fatigued to listen.”

He leaned nearer and frowned. “Are you crying?”

“No,” she lied. “I’m…tired. I told you I am. Don’t pester me about it.”

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m sad, you oaf. Why would you suppose?”

“Why are you sad?”

“Because I have so few choices. Because men view me as weak. Because I have no idea what to do now. Because I was scared to death today and thought I’d imperiled the girls.”

“You did imperil them!”

“I know! You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

She looked so miserable, and he couldn’t abide her anguish. Typically he wasn’t the sort of fellow to be moved by feminine tears. In his dubious three decades of living, he’d driven many females to elevated states of despair, and he never tarried to make amends or ease wounded feelings. At the first sign of upset, he was out the door.

So it was a novel sensation to find himself eager to comfort her. He drew her into his arms and, for just a moment she resisted the embrace, but she seemed to realize she was too wretched to reject being consoled. Yet she wasn’t about to let the encounter descend into maudlin territory. Before too many minutes had passed, she pulled away.

“Thank you for your assistance,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you…kill those brigands?”

“No. I didn’t dare. Not in this strange land where we’re foreigners. There isn’t much legal authority, but I wouldn’t want any of it to fall on us.”

“Might they…come after us? Might they try to kidnap the girls again?”

“No. Don’t worry about them.”

He hadn’t murdered the bastards, but he’d roughed them up and had received a much better conclusion than vengeance.

He’d demanded money as damages, claiming the girls were his daughters, Faith his wife, and Rowena his sister. The stupid idiots had called him a liar, so they’d earned themselves a sound thrashing, then they’d paid what he’d insisted they pay.

With the older man being a slaver, his purse had been full of gold coins, and Chase had seized all of it. He now had a stash big enough to deliver him to England. He could take Ralston, Faith, Rowena, and the girls too, the question being: Should he?

He probably had to. After their misadventure, he couldn’t send them off on their own. If they left again, Ralston would go with them, and Chase couldn’t imagine staying behind if Ralston departed. So…if Chase planned to purchase passage for them, he would have to purchase it for himself too.

It was the sole solution, and they had to flee Africa as swiftly as possible. He’d told Faith the men wouldn’t come after the girls, but he couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t. And if they arrived with a hoard of criminals, Chase only had Ralston to guard his back.

The problem was that he’d enjoyed his idyll too much and couldn’t bear to have it end. The notion of heading to London, with its gray skies, rainy weather, and interminable fiscal trouble, was too grueling to contemplate.

“Are you sure we’re safe?” she asked.

“I’m very sure,” he lied.

She studied his eyes, searching for the truth, but the night was too dark for her to find it.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You already thanked me.”

“Well, let me do it again. When you walked into that courtyard, I’ve never been happier in my life.”

“See? Even a dissolute knave like me can behave appropriately once in awhile.” He expected he’d coax a smile out of her, but he didn’t. “Tell me why you left this morning. Tell me the real reason.”

“I can’t stay here with you.”

“Why can’t you?”

“You mean besides the issues I’ve mentioned about your character?”

“Yes, besides that.”

“You know why. Don’t pretend.”

Her gaze was stormy and tormented, and he didn’t have to speculate over why she was distressed.

He wasn’t a dunce. He was vastly experienced with amour, and they shared a hot, searing attraction. He was cad enough to act on it, but no doubt she was scared silly over the tumult they stirred.

He thought she should participate in a dalliance. Why shouldn’t she? It didn’t appear that she ever had, and if he managed to drag her to her convent in Scotland, she’d never have a chance in the future. Why not sin a bit while she could?

“Let me ask you a question,” he said. “And be honest.”

“I’m always honest,” she replied, which caused him to bubble with laughter.

“Yes, my little liar, you’re a paragon of veracity, aren’t you?”

“I try to be.”

“In my view, you don’t try very hard. You’re only candid when it suits your purposes.”

“Maybe.”

“So…tell me. Do you really want to be a nun?”

There was a hesitation, then she said, “Of course I do.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes. Why would you raise such a ridiculous topic?”

“I’ve kissed you, remember?”

There! The forbidden subject was out in the open.

“Yes, I remember,” she said.

“In my humble opinion, a woman who kisses a man as you kissed me isn’t confident in her choice. She might be wondering if she made the wrong decision.”

“When I kissed you, it was a moment of temporary insanity.”

“Was it?”

“I was overcome by the moonlight and the sultry desert air. I behaved immodestly and I shouldn’t have.”

“Is that your story?”

“Yes, and I’m sticking to it.”

“There’s just one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“If it was temporary insanity, if it was a fleeting moral lapse, why are you so desperate to get away from me?”

“I’m not desperate.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Let’s see if we can discover the truth, shall we?”

“That is the truth.”

“Well,
Sister
Faithful, we’ve already established that you’re a liar, and I don’t believe you.”

* * * *

As Mr. Hubbard slipped an arm around her waist, Faith knew she was in trouble.

Since he’d kissed her the first time, she’d been dying for him to do it again. Especially after the day’s hideous events, she yearned to be closer to him in every way.

She felt bonded to him as she’d never been to another person. He’d saved her life. Literally. He’d come for her despite her rash conduct, despite his having no duty to her. He’d been gallant and heroic and very, very brave, and she’d have to have a heart of stone to be unmoved.

He captured her lips in a torrid embrace, and she did nothing to deflect or prevent it. She kissed him back with all the affection, gratitude, and fondness she could muster.

He bit and nibbled, demanded and coaxed. All the while, his hands were roaming over her body. She followed his lead, determined not to be shy, not to miss a single minute of the amazing experience.

Once she was in Scotland and locked behind the thick walls of the convent, she would never be kissed again. This was her only chance, and she was delighted to have him be the one.

She didn’t know how long they continued, but it was long enough for the moon to glide across the sky. Gradually he slowed and drew away. He was smiling, his expression cocky and vain.

“You just
think
you want to return to the convent,” he told her.

“You’re right. I do think that.”

“You won’t though. I’m certain of it.”

“Why is that?”

“It would be such a waste.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“Yes, and I’m always correct so I’m positive—in the end—I’ll be correct about this too.” To her stunned surprise, he said, “Would you call me Chase?”