Who Wants a Brawling Baron: Romancing the Rake Page 8

  “What do you want?”

  He shook his head. “I hate how we left things between us. Despite what you think, I care for you and I want the best—”

  A loud knock filled the room. Chase yelled from the hall, “Charlie. Is everything all right?”

  “Fine,” she called back, turning toward the door. “I’ve just got a headache. That’s all.”

  “Open the door,” Chase said, even louder. “I need to see you.”

  She spun back around to Raithe. “You’d better go,” she whispered.

  He gave a stiff nod but as he turned, Lord Craven entered the bedroom from the same balcony Raithe had just come through. “I beg to differ. Lord Balstead isn’t going anywhere.”

  Raithe closed his eyes for just a split second. This was perfect.

  It wasn’t his most courageous move in his life, but being caught here, they’d force the match. Somehow, being forced to marry Charlie was different from making the choice. He didn’t decide to move on from Jenni. Fate would take care of the decision for him. His shoulders slumped as he let out a long breath of air. “Open the door, Charlie. Let His Grace in.”

  Craven cleared his throat. “At least you’re being a man about it.”

  “You expected less?” He turned back to look at Craven. He’d never been fond of the man in their meetings in London, but here, he found he admired him at least. Like might be a bit strong, but Craven was direct, a man’s man willing to fight for what was his.

  Craven dropped his chin, staring at Raithe. “Not after seeing you box.”

  The Duke of Rathmore entered the room, followed by Lord Crestwood. Rathmore stepped in front of Charlie. “What are you doing in my cousin’s room?”

  Raithe knew he was about to take a beating. He wasn’t scared, just prepared. “Well, most recently, I was apologizing.”

  “For?” Craven asked behind him.

  He cleared his throat but Charlie skirted around Rathmore. “For hurting my feelings. I declared my affection and Lord Balstead informed me he wasn’t the sort for me.”

  Something inside Raithe melted. Even now she defended him, trying to protect him. The little minx. He scrubbed the back of his neck. He was in love with her. She was beautiful and innocent but brave and strong too.

  “By coming into your room?” Rathmore’s lip curled. “You’re not actually going to make a case that he is a gentleman?”

  Color flared in Charlie’s cheeks as she raised a finger into Rathmore’s face. “Don’t you even, Chase. I know there was a picnic where you and Ophelia snuck out and went down to the beach.” Then her finger swept across the other men. “What would happen if I asked your ladies how well you upheld your gentlemanly duties? Did you wait until you were engaged to steal a kiss?”

  To his complete amazement, he watched the other men’s heads drop. Was she shaming them into backing down? “It’s all right, Charlie. You don’t have to defend me.”

  “That’s right,” Craven answered. “It’s different because Balstead isn’t a man who can be redeemed. And you’ve painted yourself into a corner by having to wed him. He’ll never be a good hus—”

  “Enough.” Charlie slashed her hand through the air. “You don’t know that.”

  “You don’t know,” Rathmore answered. “Even among rakes, Balstead is…” The other man looked at Raithe. His insides tightened because he deserved every word.

  “I have been as bad as they come, but that does not mean I am beyond redemption.” He drew up his shoulders. “I’d like to offer for Charlie. I’ll make my offer to you, Rathmore, in Hartwell’s place.”

  “No.” The word didn’t come from Rathmore but from Charlie herself. High and feminine the single word cut through the air. “I refuse the offer.”

  “You don’t have a choice, Charlie,” Rathmore grated out. “You were alone with this man. It’s that or ruin.”

  “Which one of you is going to tell society about my indiscretion?”

  No, no, no. He silently pleaded. Just let it happen, Charlie. It’s better this way. But she didn’t seem to hear him, even in the silence as not one man responded to her question.

  “Which one of you is going to see me ruined? I’ll choose spinsterhood before I allow you to force me into this. I’m not afraid anymore.” Then she looked at him, crossing the short distance between them. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

  He squeezed her fingers. “I am trying to be as brave as you.”

  She gave a curt nod. “I know. I appreciate that.”

  “Charlie,” Rathmore called from behind her. “It’s time for you to go.”

  “What?” She let go of his hand and spun back around. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my room, and furthermore, we’re discussing my future.”

  “Crestwood,” Rathmore said, “See my cousin out, please.”

  “No.” Charlie crossed her arms, then she looked back at him. “Don’t let them do this.”

  He reached for her then, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her in a hug, grazing a kiss on the top of her head. Despite her best efforts the men had decided and he wasn’t going to stop them. “They’re right, love. You should go. We’ll get it all sorted.”

  She jerked back, accusation in her narrowed glare. “We won’t. I’ll not marry you. Not like this.”

  “This is the way, love,” he said, trying to reach for her again, but she stepped back.

  “Not for me, it isn’t.” Then she reached up her hand and gave his chest a tiny push. “You have to stop running from your feelings too.” Then she spun about and stormed out of the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlie stomped through the house, marching toward the music room where the rest of the family assembled. But at the last moment, she veered off and made her way to the foyer. She couldn’t be social now. Which was odd for her.

  But rather than pretend to laugh and be gay, she opened the front door and headed out of the house, toward the path to the beach. This time, she wasn’t looking for a distraction. She didn’t need to be entertained. This time, she was going to sit in a dark, quiet place, all alone, listen to the water and…remember.

  Remember the way her mother had rocked her as a child, and how she missed that touch so deeply it hurt. She could still hear the soft lilt of her mother’s voice as she sang Charlie a soft lullaby. Of course, her mother would have never consented to her daughter being called Charlie. She’d have insisted on Charlotte no matter how brash or bold her daughter could be.

  She’d remember how her father had taken her on his horse and trotted her around the yard as they both laughed and bounced together.

  Pictures of family dinners where her parents allowed her to talk incessantly of her day, her lessons, her wish to be a boy and go trotting off on an adventure. Like a pirate or a highwayman.

  Charlie stopped along the path as she remembered the loneliness that had nearly engulfed her when she’d learned that their ship had gone down while crossing the channel and she remembered how her brother had been too struck by his own grief and likely the burden of taking on the title to console her. She’d been so very alone.

  And now, she felt that keen sense of not belonging again.

  But she wouldn’t fill that hurt with meaningless parties and half-baked attempts at adventure. She’d face that fear, cry, and try to find a way forward. In some ways, she’d been exactly like Raithe. Afraid to move on.

  But Charlie was ready for the future now. She just wished she was moving forward with Raithe. And not some forced sham marriage. Because what she wanted was a family filled with love, and tenderness, and laughter. Like hers had been. And she’d never get that if Chase made Raithe consent. He had to choose her in order for them to have the sort of life she dreamed of. Anything less would be its own sort of heartbreak.

  Reaching the beach, she started for the little hideaway they’d been in yesterday. She’d be safe there, tucked away from the wind and the tide. Her own little place to figure out the right path forward.
Was it with Raithe? Her heart cried out yes even as she winced. He was hurt too, and that was a lot of grief to bring into a new relationship. What was the best way to proceed? Did she try to convince Raithe love had grown between them?

  Or perhaps she’d refuse to take part in the wedding? Would she run away? No. She was tired of running. She’d simply refuse to say her vows, make a public display of being silent until… a strange noise caught her ears.

  It sounded like scraping or dragging.

  “Where’s that cave?” a man grunted as more noise filtered her way.

  “Just over there, I think.” Another called back.

  Charlie froze. This time, she had not been in search of an adventure but one seemed to have found her. There was a labyrinth of caves, they could be referring to any one of them. She could try and scramble up the hill or she could hide.

  Spinning about, she slipped into the little hideaway. Surely, she’d be safe there.

  Raithe took a third hit to his gut, tensing his muscles to try and reduce the impact of the blow. He’d not hit back, no matter how much he itched to break Rathmore’s rather perfect nose. “Are you satisfied yet?”

  “No,” Rathmore gritted back, cocking his fist for another hit. “Charlie is a complete innocent. Or she was until you defiled her.”

  Raithe thought back to that afternoon when she’d lain on his bed, legs apart. He had defiled her, but it had been of mutual desire. “And I’ve assured you that I will correct the matter.”

  Rathmore hit him again. “I don’t want her to marry you. That’s the problem. You’re not nearly good enough for her and—”

  Raithe grimaced. Well, that was the truth.

  “Gentlemen,” Mr. Moorish called from the door. “May I assist in some way?”

  Craven and Crestwood each held his arms, not that he planned to go anywhere. “No, sir. We’re fine. They’re just releasing some pent-up irritation with me.”

  He felt Craven relax. “Balstead has agreed to wed Charlie.”

  Mr. Moorish stepped further into the room. “Did he agree because you’re hitting him?”

  Crestwood let out a short, harsh laugh. “No, Mr. Moorish. But he did agree because he’s been less than honorable.”

  Mr. Moorish tapped his foot on the plush carpet. “Then I insist you cease.”

  “He deserves it,” Rathmore bit out.

  “Your Grace,” Mr. Moorish’s voice rose with a sharpness that surprised Raithe. It must have surprised the other men too because their hands dropped. “I am not the fool you think me to be.” He stepped to Raithe’s side as Crestwood cleared out of his way. “I am aware of the shenanigans that have gone on in my house. I was young and in love and you’ve all done the honorable thing so I have allowed it to pass.” His finger rose in the air. “Would you prefer that I treated each of you this way?”

  Silence met his words.

  He turned toward Raithe. “You intend to marry her?”

  “Yes,” Raithe answered.

  “You have an affection for her?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. There was no point denying it any longer. “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Moorish lowered his voice. “You will be true to her?”

  He couldn’t imagine ever touching another woman after Charlie. “Of course.”

  He gave a single nod. “Then you’d best go tell her so. She left crying and I think those words might provide her with a great deal of comfort.”

  He winced. “Crying?” He straightened, hating the idea that she hurt. That he’d hurt her. “Where?”

  “Toward the beach. Go.” Then he lifted his finger again and pointed to the other men. “And since they are engaged, we’ll leave them to it. You have your own brides to attend and your own actions to make amends for.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “There will be no more fighting in my house. It is a behavior I don’t tolerate in my sailors and I will not allow amongst my sons-in-law. You take your squabbles elsewhere. Am I clear?”

  The men nodded, Rathmore looking at the floor as Craven shrugged a shoulder. “Apologies, Mr. Moorish.”

  “Call me Tom.” Then he pointed at Raithe. “Now go. Before Charlie finds any more trouble. That girl has a penchant for it, to be certain.”

  He nodded as he left the three men with their father-in-law. He smiled as he thought of the tongue-lashing that was still to come. It was good to know even a duke could be put in his place.

  He made his way out of the house, skidding down the path. He could only hope that Charlie had headed for the hideaway. It was the perfect private spot for the conversation they needed to have.

  But as trotted along the path to the beach, it wasn’t Charlie he found. Instead, he saw three men pushing crates across the beach. Backlit by moonlight, they hauled them up into one of the upper caves.

  His heart hammered with fear. If they were here, then where was the woman he loved?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charlie huddled against the stone, curled into a ball, her head dropped into her arms. She saw them climbing above her. She hadn’t even realized there was a cave there but she knew one thing, this area stayed dry. Which she should have thought of when she’d considered hiding spots.

  If they wanted dry loot, this was the spot to be.

  Were they pirates? Looters? Thieves? She told herself to, for once in her life, keep her head down and for goodness sake, stay quiet. Covering her ears, she tried not to hear them either, but their conversation filtered through her hands to her ears.

  “This shipment is a beauty. Lots of Frenchie wine.”

  “Think Captain would notice if we have one?” another replied.

  “Ye ken he would,” a third answered. “But I might take a slug anyway fer some o’ that wine. That Moorish fellow has some fine goods.”

  “That we did a fine job of stealing.” They all cackled.

  Charlie tried to keep quiet, but a little gasp escaped her lips.

  They didn’t seem to hear, and she burrowed her face deeper into her skirts.

  These men were stealing from Mr. Moorish and storing the goods on his own property. If she made it out of this, she’d see the goods returned and these men caught.

  But first she just needed to make it out of here. The moon disappeared behind a cloud, casting complete darkness about her. She could see one of their lanterns swinging as they moved away.

  Slowly, she unfurled her body, rising into a crouch. Should she make a break for it or wait them out?

  “Charlie,” a deep voice whispered in her ear, even as a hand covered her mouth.

  Raithe. She looked back, snaking an arm about his neck. Right now, she didn’t care if they were at odds, she’d never been happier to see anyone in her entire life. He’d come for her. “Oh, Raithe. I wasn’t looking for trouble. Honestly.”

  “I know. But it does seem to find you. You’ll keep me on my toes, that’s for certain.” The casual mention of him keeping her safe in the future filled her with that sort of warm, gushy feeling. She tightened her hold around his neck. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.” Then he pulled her up, wrapping his arm about her waist, and skirting along the rocks to the entrance.

  Raithe stopped, looking both ways.

  Charlie peeked out and noted their lanterns were bobbing toward the ocean. Raithe tugged her hand and they started for the path.

  Charlie ran next to Raithe as fast as her legs, wrapped in skirts, would allow but twice she nearly fell. After the second time, Raithe scooped her into his arms.

  “Hey,” a voice called from below. “Who goes there?”

  “Catch them,” another yelled out.

  “Raithe,” Charlie curled her fingers into his neck. “Put me down. You’ll be faster if I run too.”

  He didn’t say a word just grunted as he picked up speed up the rocky path. That’s when the crack of a pistol filled the air. Charlie shrank into Raithe as another gun fired and then a third.

  On the last shot the bullet seemed to
whizz just past her head and she heard Raithe grunt again.

  They were nearly at the top of the path now and the moment they crested the bluff, Raithe yelled out a loud, booming, “Help!”

  As if in answer, the front door burst open as men poured from the house.

  Dashlane, Craven, Crestwood, Rathmore, Mr. Moorish, and several servants raced toward them all carrying pistols.

  “Hostiles on the beach,” Raithe yelled as the men moved closer. “They’re storing stolen goods.”

  Mr. Moorish stopped. “Stolen goods, you say?”

  “Your wine,” Charlie added. “I heard them talking.”

  Mr. Moorish gave a nod. “Both of you inside. Our mission is to capture, gentlemen.”

  “I’m coming too,” Raithe set her down even as Ophelia, Cordelia, and Bianca approached the group.

  Mr. Moorish gave him a quick glance. “Protect the women if it comes to that and get your arm bandaged. You’re bleeding, son. You need to check the wound.”

  Raithe looked down at the arm. “It’s just a scratch.”

  But Charlie caught her breath. “Scratch? You’ve been shot!”

  Raithe looked at the arm again. It was only a graze. The blood running down his arm might make holding a pistol tricky, though. “We’re wasting time.” Still, he wasn’t staying behind, not when the rest of the men were in danger.

  Mr. Moorish gave him a glancing look before he nodded. Then he looked to his daughters. “Girls, you know where to hide until we return.”

  Ophelia grabbed Charlie’s arm as she began pulling her toward the house. “Be careful,” she said as they moved away.

  Careful was not exactly the word Raithe wanted to use. They’d shot at and nearly hit Charlie. The bullet had been a mere inch from her face.

  Something deep inside him had shifted. He understood with stark reality that he’d nearly lost her.

  What if he’d never had the chance to hold her again? Tell her that she’d thawed the ice about his heart? What if he couldn’t marry her and spend days worshipping every inch of her?