Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake
Page 58

“I…I did not think I needed one.”
“Of all the damn fool things!” He exploded. “You could have been killed!”
“It’s just a flesh wound!” she cried.
“What the hell would you know about flesh wounds? What if I had thrust at full force?”
“You were not supposed to be here!” The words escaped before she could stay them. Their gazes locked, blue against brown, and Ralston shook his head at her, as though he could not quite believe what he was seeing.
“I? I was not supposed to be here?” His voice shook. “The last I checked, this is my sporting club! A men’s sporting club! Where men fence! The last I checked, you were a woman! And women did not fence!”
“Those are all fair points,” she hedged.
“What the hell are you doing here? Where the hell are your wits?”
Callie sniffed primly, as though she weren’t flat on her bottom dressed in men’s clothing in the midst of a situation that, if she guessed correctly, would be her ruin. “I would prefer you not use such language with me.”
“You would prefer? Well, I would prefer you stayed the hell out of my fencing club! And, while we’re at it, out of my taverns and my bedchamber! But it seems that neither of us is going to get what we want!” He paused, amazed. “For God’s sake, woman, are you trying to get yourself ruined?”
Tears sprang to Callie’s eyes at the words, turning them into mahogany pools. “No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She looked away, suddenly desperate to be anywhere other than here, next to him, about to cry.
At her tears, he cursed roundly beneath his breath. He hadn’t meant to upset her. Well, he had meant to scare her into stopping her damn foolishness, but he hadn’t meant to make her cry. He softened his tone. “What, then?” When she didn’t answer, he pressed on, cajoling, “Callie.”
She looked at him again, shaking her head. Taking a deep breath, she said, “You don’t understand.”
His blue gaze locked with hers as he relaxed next to her, seating himself at her side so that they were facing each other, his knee supporting her wounded arm. “Explain it to me.” The words were firm.
“It’s really quite fine, you know,” Callie said, her tone belittling the importance of her words. “It’s just that…even in this moment, while I’m faced with certain ruin, and your anger, and my own fear, and not a small amount of pain from my wound—not that you didn’t do a lovely job binding it, my lord.” He nodded his acknowledgment of her praise. “Even with all that,” she plunged on, “I am having one of the best days of my life.”
She could see the confusion in his eyes as she tried to explain. “You see, today I am living.”
“Living?”
“Yes. I’ve spent twenty-eight years doing what everyone around me expected me to do…being what everyone around me has expected me to be. And it’s horrid to be someone else’s vision of yourself.” She paused, then, “You were right. I am a coward.”
His eyes softened at her impassioned statement. “I was an ass. I shouldn’t have said it.”
“You’re not an…” She stopped, unable to say the word aloud.
“I’m not certain I agree. Go on.”
“I’m not a wife, or a mother, or a pillar of the ton,” She waved her unharmed arm as though the life she was describing was just beyond the room. “I’m invisible. So, why not stop being such a craven wallflower and start trying all the things that I’ve always dreamed of doing? Why not go to taverns and drink scotch and fence? I confess, those things have been much more interesting than all the loathsome teas and balls and needlepoint with which I have traditionally occupied my time.” She met his gaze again. “Does this make sense?”
He nodded seriously. “It does. You’re trying to find Callie.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes! Somewhere along the way, I lost Callie. Perhaps I never had her. But today, here, I found her.”
He smiled wryly. “Callie is a fencer?”
She matched his smile with one of her own. “Callie is many things, my lord. I also found her in the tavern.”
“Ah,” he said, knowingly. “So Callie is a rake.”
She blushed. “I don’t think so.”
Silence fell between them as he watched the wash of pink across her cheeks. He lifted her wounded arm in his hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand. She breathed deeply at the feel of his lips on her skin, so warm and soft, and her eyes flew to his, intently focused on her. He held her gaze, and she felt a shock of liquid heat as his tongue circled one of her knuckles.
He registered her surprise, smiling against her and turning her hand palm up, then setting his tongue and lips to work on the soft, sensitive spot at its center. Her breath quickened, and she closed her eyes to the sensation, unable to watch the erotic movement of his mouth across her skin.
He lifted his lips from her hand and, when she opened her eyes again, it was to find him watching her, a wicked smile on his lips. Reaching out, he traced one finger along the line of her jaw, sending a shiver through her. When he spoke, his voice was thick and liquid, and it sent a shock of heat down her spine. “I shouldn’t give up on that part of her just yet, Empress.”
She caught her breath at the endearment, which brought with it a hazy memory from long ago. He chased the vision away with the vivid present as he clasped her chin, bringing her face closer to his. “You forget, I’ve met the woman several times…In carriages…”