The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(83)
“Yes,” she said with her own smile, tossing her head. “I did.”
Rafe leveled his pistol on the men. His nostrils flared and his eyes took on a hard, icy sheen. “By order of the King of England, you are all under arrest for the Earl of Swifdon’s murder.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Salty and Grim assumed the task of escorting the prisoners back to the ship. They would take the Frenchmen, three of the horses, and march all night. Daphne insisted on seeing to Salty’s wound before they left. Fortunately, it wasn’t deep. She’d already wetted their handkerchiefs so that all three of the men could wipe the soot from their faces.
While Rafe and Grim tied the prisoners’ hands behind their backs, presumably in such a manner that they couldn’t escape, Daphne commandeered the brandy that Grim had stashed in a canteen. She went over to where Salty sat under a tree and splashed the alcohol over Salty’s wound.
Salty winced. “A damn shame, wasting brandy like that.”
“I need to make certain it’s clean,” she answered, covering it gently with her handkerchief.
She patted his other shoulder. “When we get back to England, we’ll have a doctor look at it but I expect it will be right as rain.”
“Thank you, Lady Daphne,” Salty replied quietly. “For everything.”
After their two friends marched off with the horses and prisoners in tow, Rafe turned to Daphne. “We’re going to the inn.”
“What inn?”
Rafe helped Daphne mount the remaining horse. “The one in town.”
“I didn’t know there was one in town.”
He swung up behind her and Daphne felt his hard, warm chest behind her back. She couldn’t help her shudder.
“There is.” Rafe maneuvered the horse to the left and they took off at a gallop. The rest of the journey was made in silence while Daphne desperately tried to guess at Rafe’s mood. He’d seemed pleased by her capturing the Frenchmen but was he angry now, tired, merely glad it was over?
Within half an hour, they arrived at a little lopsided, whitewashed inn that stood in the center of the small town. It had two ruddy windows that revealed a large fireplace and several laughing patrons.
Rafe dismounted and reached up and put his hands around Daphne’s waist. Again, she tried to ignore how good it felt.
“We’ll sleep here tonight,” he said. “And meet Salty and Grim back at the ship tomorrow.”
“I don’t need to stay at an inn. I can march, too. I’m quite capable—”
“I know what you’re capable of,” he interrupted. “Do you begrudge me a wedding night with my wife?”
Daphne couldn’t help her smile that went ear to ear. She clamped shut her mouth and happily trotted beside him into the inn, where Rafe requested one room from the innkeeper. A thrill shot through her.
She smiled up at him almost shyly. “One room?”
“We’re married, Daphne. It’s official now.”
She squeezed his hand and enjoyed the butterflies that flitted through her middle. “I know.”
They ate dinner in the inn’s main room but the meal was a blur to Daphne. All she could think about was what was going to happen after the meal. If Rafe wanted a wedding night, and admitted they were officially married, it meant that he loved her. It had to. Didn’t it?
When he finished eating, Rafe tossed his napkin to the tabletop, then he stood next to her and offered his arm. Daphne took it with a small smile and allowed her husband to escort her upstairs to their room.
The door to their room shut behind them and Rafe locked it. He tossed his pack onto a nearby chair, then he stepped forward and nearly collapsed on the bed. “I can’t believe it’s over. I can’t believe we finally got them.” He sat up and let his head drop into his hands.
Daphne pulled off her cap and tossed it next to the pack. She scrubbed her hands through her hair. She quietly made her way over to sit on the bed next to him and placed a hand on his back. “It must have been difficult for you to see them again. To relive it.”
Rafe blew out a breath. “I didn’t have much time to relive it. I was thinking about Donald. What he went through. I…”
Daphne nodded. She motioned to a table where the innkeeper had already placed a bottle of wine. “Would you like a drink?”
Rafe turned to her, his eyes round. He took her hands. “I don’t need a drink. All I need is you.” He slid off the bed and knelt on the floor. He turned to face her and pulled her hands to his lips and kissed them. “My father used to tell me that I was good for nothing. That I’d never amount to anything.”
Daphne vehemently shook her head. “No. Rafe.”
“I’ve spent my entire life trying to prove myself, be good enough, stand on my own, never ask for help,” Rafe continued. “It’s not until I met you that I realized that’s not always the best choice. You made me see that.” He squeezed her hands. “Daphne, I can never make up for the loss of your brother but I want to spend the rest of my life trying. Nothing about our courtship or our marriage has been customary. I never formally asked you to marry me. I want to fix that now.” He moved up to one knee. “I’m not a nobleman, and I’m not rich, but I love you with every bit of myself. You were right about me. I needed you today. And I’ll need you tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. I need you every day of my life because I can’t live without you. Will you marry me, Lady Daphne Swift? Again?”