Page 12 of Dare to Risk it All

Walk away, you wretched excuse for a man.

“Raphe,” she said, her voice as much of a whisper as the breeze rustling the leaves at their feet.

Too late now.

Chapter 4

Miss Knight,

I am being bullied on all sides by merciless females. Very well. I surrender, if only to get a moment's peace!

―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight).

2nd December 1840, Rowsley Hall, Derbyshire.

Raphe put one hand to Miss Cadogan’s waist, the other to her face, caressing her soft cheek with his thumb and tilting her head to just the right angle.

“You should run,” he murmured, for it was only sporting to give her a last chance.

“I never run,” she replied, though her voice trembled, but then her eyelids fluttered shut and the invitation seemed to be the thing he had been waiting for his entire life. He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers. It was nothing, barely a kiss at all, not for a man who had given and received kisses in such quantity. That was the problem, though. It had been quantity over quality, for there had never been a kiss like this before.

The moment his lips touched hers, sensation ripped through him, scouring every previous kiss. It was like a tidal wave, sweeping away all that had gone before like so much debris, cleaning his soul of the errors of the past and leaving it scrubbed raw and unprotected. Before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled her closer into his arms and his mouth was seeking more. What little wit remained was just enough to remember she was innocent, that he could not plunder this gift, for it was of value. This woman, this moment, it was forever, not something to be stolen, then thrown away and forgotten. So, he teased and seduced with delicate brushes of his lips, sipping and nipping at her mouth and playing with the considerable skill he had attained, encouraging her tentative responses. Not that she was tentative for long.

Her hands slid up over his chest, curling about his neck and holding on, a possessive grip upon him that made triumph sing through his veins like warm brandy. He tugged at the ribbons on her bonnet, casting it aside without caring where it fell. His hands caressed her back, the narrow span of her waist and the lush curve of her hip as she came alive in his arms. Needing more, he slid his tongue across her lips, seeking entry, and experienced another surge of victorious happiness as she opened to him. The pleasure of it was indescribable, his wicked nature stealing her innocence by slow degrees and revelling in her submission. He taught her the way of it, the slick, sinuous dance of tongues and—though she clearly did not know what to do—she was a quick study, catching on at once. The kiss grew hotter, deeper, and his mind cast about for a place they could go, somewhere secluded.

His mouth left hers to taste the sweet spot beneath her ear that he had wanted to explore earlier. He breathed her in, just as he had imagined, and grew giddy with the scent of her as his hand slid up her waist, up her ribcage to her breast. He cupped and squeezed, the voluptuous handful sending a bolt of pure lust to his groin. He moaned and nipped at her neck.

“R-Raphe,” Miss Cadogan said, sounding dazed.

“God, you’re delicious. You smell divine, like honey and vanilla, so tempting, so sweet. I could eat you.”

“R-Raphe—I….”

He captured her mouth again, and she sighed, melting into him for a moment before pulling away.

“Raphe,” she managed as he sought her mouth again. She turned away this time, pushing at his chest. “My God! You are dangerous!” she exclaimed.

Raphe froze.

“Good heavens,” she said, breathing hard as she looked up at him. “That… That was quite astonishing. Truly, I’ve never, I never dreamed… Oh my.” She collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder, clinging to him as if her knees were not sufficient to hold her upright. Perhaps they weren’t. Now he came to think of it, his own were feeling uncertain, too. Belatedly, Raphe snatched his hand from her breast as though it had burned him.

What had he done? Oh, holy mother of God. What had he done?

Raphe uttered a curse and tried to step back, to put distance between them, but she was still holding on tight. With difficulty, he attempted to steady his breathing, to calm his thundering heart, but his body was alive, thrumming with lust. Only his revulsion at how badly he had behaved held him in check for he wanted her still, beyond reason, despite knowing what he’d done was reprehensible.

“Miss Cadogan,” he said, sounding oddly hollow, or like the words came from a long way away. Not at all like his own voice. “I can only apologise. I am so dreadfully….”

She looked up at him, her pretty nose scrunching up in an adorable fashion that made him want to kiss it. He squashed the urge beneath the considerable weight of self-loathing pressing down upon him.

“Apologise?” she echoed. “What on earth for?”

“What for?” he repeated faintly. “What for?”

“That’s what I said.”

He stared at her. “Miss Cadogan. We met only last night, and I wonder it can have escaped your notice, but I nearly took your maidenhead upon a public path.”

She tutted at him. “Sometimes a night is all it takes. Dare fell in love with my sister in a matter of minutes. Not that I’m suggesting you love me,” she added hurriedly. “But you’re being silly. I asked you to stop, and you stopped. It’s not like you took advantage, and it isn’t the least bit public. We’re on the Rowsley Estate.”