The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(73)

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Rafe caught the coin and rose up on his elbow. Who was at the door? At this hour? It had to be after eleven. He consulted his timepiece. Yes, after eleven.

“Come in,” he called, expecting to see Grim or Salty asking about some last-minute arrangements.

The door swung open and Grey was standing there, tight breeches, flowing white shirt, and adorable cap.

Rafe nearly rubbed his eyes. Was it an illusion? “Daphne, what are you doing here?”

She walked into the room and kicked shut the door with her booted foot. Her eyes never left his face. “I wanted to see you, Rafe.”

Rafe leaped to his feet. “Does your brother know you’re here?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. I came because I—”

He put up a hand to stop her. She didn’t need to say it. “You needn’t have come. Don’t worry. I sent word to the Home Office. They’re seeing to the paperwork for our annulment.”

Daphne raised her chin. “I don’t want an annulment. I want to consummate our marriage. Tonight.”





CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR




Rafe’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull. “You want to … pardon?” He cocked his head to the side. Surely he’d heard her incorrectly.

Daphne’s small hand went to her throat and she began tugging at the cravat at her neck. “You heard me.”

Rafe swallowed. Hard. Speaking of hard, everything in his body was going hard. Rock-hard. Including his cock. He stepped back and pushed against the wall behind him as if that could put more space between them. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted an annulment.”

Daphne finished unraveling the cravat. She pulled it from around her neck with one sharp movement and tossed it in the corner. “At the moment all I want is to spend the night with you.” Her voice was husky, hot. Her eyes were pools of liquid steel.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair. “How did you get here?”

“I have my ways. Does it matter?”

“Does Swifdon know you’re here?”

“No.” The one word shattered like a vase onto the floor.

Rafe couldn’t drag his gaze away from her. She was mesmerizing him. He searched his brain for a coherent thought. “I thought you wanted a title. I thought—”

Daphne pulled off her cap, and shook out her long, blond hair. It fell in waves over her shoulders. Rafe gulped.

“You thought wrong. I want you,” she said.

“Daphne, I—” His fingers raked through his hair again. Think. Think.

Daphne stalked toward him, her mouth quirked into a half-smile. “What’s the matter, Captain Cavendish? Am I making you nervous? I never thought I’d live to see the day.” Then she tugged at the buttons at her collar.

Rafe nearly leaped up the wall. “No. No. No. I can’t. Julian will rip out my intestines. He’ll finish what the French started. He’ll…”

But Rafe’s words trailed off as she pulled her shirt over her head. It followed the cravat into the corner. Rafe drew in a deep breath.

Her chest was wrapped in linen and she still wore her breeches. She shucked off her boots, one by one, and then began slowly unwinding the fabric from around her breasts.

“Don’t do this,” Rafe whispered. Close your eyes, you fool. But he couldn’t, not with the sight in front of him, the linen slowly peeling away from her creamy skin.

“Too late,” she said just as the linen fell away. She tossed the fabric into the pile with the rest and moved toward him. She stood merely a pace away from him.

Next, she began unhooking the fall of her breeches.

“You’re going to get me killed,” Rafe breathed. “Murdered.”

She nipped at her pink lips with her white teeth. “I don’t want to kill you. I want to make love to you. We don’t have to tell Julian anything.”

Rafe moved then. No more acting like a quivering boy. He took one decisive step forward and grabbed her hands. Her breasts nearly skimmed his chest. He clenched his jaw. “Don’t do this, Daphne.”

Her eyes were pools of mist gazing into his. “Why not?” She let her mouth hang open and he was fixated on her tongue that darted out to wet her lips.

Good question. He poked out his cheek with his tongue and tried to think about anything other than his rock-hard member. “Because I can’t resist you.”

“Good.” She pulled her hands away sharply and her breeches fell to her ankles. He swallowed again, knowing if he just looked down he would see her completely naked. Unholy torture.

“Rafe, you’re the only man I’ve ever wanted. Take me to bed.”

Oh God, she was naked. Completely nude. He forced himself to clench his eyes shut. Sweat beads popped along his brow. He had to be the reasonable one. Apparently, Daphne had lost all reason along with her clothing. “I’m leaving for France in the morning,” he pleaded.

He felt her nearness, her warmth. Her hands were on his shoulders—she must have been on tiptoes—just before her soft voice whispered in his ear. “I’m not asking you to stay.”

He licked his lips. She smelled so good. Like apples and roses and—

“Daphne, I … I want to, Lord knows I want to, but—”