Page List


Font:  

Arabella sat in the middle of her bed, her arms clasped around her drawn-up knees, watching Rayna pace back and forth in front of her. “Rayna,” she said finally, “it is after midnight. I wish you would cease acting like a caged tiger and tell me what happened. Come,” she continued, patting the bed, “sit down and warm yourself, and talk to me.” Surely, she thought, Adam could not be the cause of this.

Rayna looked a waif swathed from neck to toe in a white lawn nightgown, her auburn hair loose to her waist. She wrapped a blanket around her and sat on the edge of the bed.

Aha, Arabella thought, realizing the likely truth of the matter. “It is that wretched comte, is it not?”

“Yes,” Rayna said, not looking up. “I was such a fool, Bella. I went for a breath of air on the balcony with him. I didn’t want to, truly, but before I knew it I was in the garden. So stupid of me. Someone closed the balcony door and he became disgusting. Well, I kicked him between the legs, just as Thomas told me to do if ever a gentleman went beyond what was proper.”

Arabella’s eyes widened. “Oh, Rayna, how I would have liked to witness that. Sent him to his knees?”

Rayna shuddered at the memory. “I am not certain, Bella. I was running too fast to notice. But I think I did hurt him.”

“Well, he deserved it. And here I thought you needed protecting from that wretch.” Arabella leaned forward and shook Rayna’s limp hand in congratulation. “I am proud of you, Rayna. He will likely keep his distance from now on.”

“The marchese wasn’t proud of me,” Rayna said.

“What do you mean?” So Adam did fit somewhere in this mess after all.

“After I escaped the comte, I found a small antechamber. The marchese came in.” Rayna’s fingers fretted with a pleat in her nightgown. “He had the audacity to yell at me for being with the comte, as if it had been I who wanted to seduce that beastly man.”

“Did you not explain to him what had happened?”

“Yes. Indeed, he had seen most of it. He went on and on about my being a fool. And then he kissed me.”

“I see,” Arabella said.

“I slapped him,” Rayna said.

Oh dear, Arabella said under her breath. Aloud she said, “Very proper of you, love. My, two gentlemen after you in one evening. You must give me advice, Rayna, on how to interest men. I haven’t had one nibble since our arrival here.”

“You are just trying to make me feel better, Bella. And you know it is not true. I think the marchese was merely toying with me. It is you he is interested in. I have seen how he laughs with you.”

Oh dear, Arabella thought. How could Rayna be so blind? She said, “He does laugh with me, Rayna, but it is only friendship of a sort that we share.”

“His beard scratched me when he kissed me.” Rayna suddenly jumped off the bed and began her pacing again. “I hated it when the comte kissed me, but when the marchese did, I felt the most marvelous feelings. It was he who pulled away from me, as if I were a loose hussy.”

“Nonsense, Rayna,” Arabella said. “He undoubtedly felt guilty for taking advantage of you. He pulled away because he did not want to compromise you.”

Rayna whirled around toward Arabella. “Do you think so, Bella? Do you think he cares for me, a little?”

“I think that he must. There is another infernal court function on Thursday. Likely the marchese will be there. You must talk to him, Rayna. He is probably just as concerned as you are.”

“Perhaps you are right, but he seems so certain of himself, so—” She waved her hand expressively.

“So arrogant?”

“Not really that. He seems a man who gets what he wants. I would not want to be his enemy.”

Neither would I, Arabella thought. “You told me he was kind, Rayna.”

“That is true. And he is gentle with me, and teases me. But still, I saw his anger tonight. I do not believe I could love a violent man.”

“The marchese violent? Come, Rayna, that’s absurd. He was angry because he was afraid for you, not at you.”

“Nonetheless,” Rayna said, “he is not at all like Papa.”

“No,” Arabella agreed, “he is not. I think he is used to being in control,” she continued with a sister’s loving objectivity, “and perhaps he can be ruthless. But I do not believe he would ever be cruel to someone he loved.”

“I do not care for ruthless men,” Rayna said.


Tags: Catherine Coulter Devil Historical