Page 6 of Dare to Risk it All

Raphe sighed and returned a quelling look, which had no effect whatsoever. “You’ve always had such a pretty turn of phrase, Sy.”

“Well?” Sylvester prompted, apparently not diverted by this sally.

“For God’s sake,” Raphe said in an undertone. “Rothborn warned me off Miss Cadogan on pain of death. He’s the only friend this family has, and I swore I would not let him down again.”

Sylvester’s expression warmed a degree in sympathy. “Oh, well. I understand that, but there was no need to be so damned rude. The ladies think you’re a proper stick-in-the-mud now, which is not at all your reputation.”

“The less they know about my reputation, the better,” Raphe muttered.

“Unlikely, that. You’re the print shop’s darling. Especially since Bainbridge has started behaving himself. Come on, surely you can be polite and endure a conversation?”

Raphe dared another glance at Miss Cadogan and stiffened as he found the bold chit studying him in return. He looked away at once, cursing under his breath. To his further irritation, Sylvester noticed the exchange and chuckled.

“Ah,” he said, his tone far too knowing. “I see it is not that simple.”

Raphe glared at him. “Just do us all a favour and keep her away from me.”

Sylvester mimed tugging at his forelock. “Yes, my lord,” he replied gravely, and returned to the far more convivial conversation buzzing about the young ladies.

Raphe endured dinner. He simmered with irritation, wishing Miss Cadogan to the devil with increasing enthusiasm. If only she were not here, or at least were not so very intriguing, then everything would be lovely. He was more touched than he wanted to acknowledge to discover his brothers wished to spend Christmas with him, especially after he’d neglected them for so long. Dare was convivial company and his in laws were the kind of people with whom Raphe most enjoyed conversing. Amusing and irreverent, they did not give a fig for propriety and wished only to live life to the full. Mrs Bonnie Cadogan had a wicked sense of humour that he much appreciated and, if only her eldest unmarried daughter were elsewhere, it would have been a perfect evening. She was not elsewhere, however; she was here, seated to his left on the opposite side of the table. He could feel her gaze upon him and realised now that he had mis-stepped. By treating her with such indifference, he had only piqued her interest. Dammit. Perhaps he should try again.

On feeling the weight of her stare, Raphe looked up, met her eyes and returned a frosty glare. Instead of blushing and looking away like any normal girl, she merely continued her perusal of him, as if he was an interesting specimen of some variety she’d not seen before. Unsettled, Raphe returned his attention to his plate.

Wretched girl.

Forcing himself to concentrate on the marvellous meal before him, he ate in silence for a while as an increasingly lively conversation shuttled up and down the table. There was a great deal of laughter, but Raphe found himself unable to catch the thread of whatever was being discussed. Instead, he dared another glance at Miss Cadogan—just as she looked up at him.

Hell!

That was it. He must ignore her from now on.

Raphe accepted another serving of roast beef and forced himself to concentrate on it. He would not look up again.

He looked up. She was looking at him.

Oh, this was getting ridiculous. Just stop looking at her, you half-wit!

Yet, as the interminable evening carried on, she drew his gaze back to her repeatedly, as if she contained some magnetic force towards which he was drawn against his will. Over and over again, their gazes collided, giving him a sensation like an electrical shock to the heart each time.

Right, that was the last time, he swore as they brought in the dessert course. Raphe’s gaze landed on a rich treacle tart, which was his favourite. He hoped this, at least, could keep his attention for five minutes. It might have, too, if not for the decadent moan of pleasure that reached him from the wicked girl’s place at the table. The sound of her unalloyed enjoyment shivered over his skin with such devastating effect she might as well have put her hands on him.

Despite having promised himself otherwise, Raphe looked up, just as Greer did the same. Damnation, it was as if some bloody puppet master was pulling their strings. He did not know what it was she saw in his gaze this time, but finally the dreadful girl blushed and looked away.

Raphe let out an uneven breath and returned his attention to his food, but not before he caught the speculative interest in her mother’s expression.

Greer made her way back to the parlour with the rest of the guests in something of a daze. She had been beyond intrigued to meet the wicked Lord de Ligne. Until recent months, barely a day had gone by without his name appearing in connection with some scandal or disturbance. The stories had become so wild she had worried for him, even though she did not know him at all. His exploits had lost the amusing, kicking-up-a-lark feeling of which she had very much approved. Instead, she’d sensed desperation as his behaviour spiralled out of control, and she’d wondered what drove him to such excess. His reputation had become so dreadful she had been half-expecting horns and a tail. The truth was less extraordinary, but just as compelling.

She had believed she had prepared herself to meet him and had looked forward to anything from lascivious looks and inappropriate comments to amused disdain from such a notorious rake. She had not expected animosity. Not being what most people would consider a properly behaved young lady, Greer found this behaviour both challenging and intriguing. Why did he stare at her so, as though she had offended and vexed him beyond reason? She had not yet spoken a word to him beyond their murmured introduction, so why on earth should he have taken her in dislike? Perhaps she was not exactly good ton, but he was hardly in a position to throw stones. Besides, his usual company comprised like-minded degenerates and light skirts, so he was not picky as a rule. This had been on her mind throughout the meal, and her curiosity only increased as she discovered his inability to keep his gaze from her. Not that she fared any better. Each time she had promised herself she would not look up at him again, but before she knew it, the two of them were glaring at each other like a couple of combative cats. And then… then… that last look from him had given her the distinct impression he was mentally stripping her naked and perusing what was available to him. Realising far too late—as ever—that she was behaving badly, Greer had felt the blush sting her cheeks as she’d looked away.

Thoroughly unnerved, it was all she could do to settle herself down in the parlour and try to make conversation. She could feel him prowling around the edges of the room, a dangerous presence lingering in the shadows that made her edgy and nervous.

“Will you come, then, Greer?”

Greer jolted, realising she had completely missed the thread of the conversation.

“Er—” she said stupidly as her sister rolled her eyes.

“You’ve not listened to a word I’ve said, have you?”