The Wooing of Miss Masters

  "Lazy little bitch," Audra muttered. "If you had any spirit at all, you would have bitten that woman."

  But then if Audra had had any, so would she, or at least she would have sent Mrs. Saunders back to London. Audra stared balefully at the peaceful-looking pug. That foolish dog was still wearing the ribbon Cecily had put there. Why did all her sister's girlish dreams seem tied up in that silly little bow?

  "Oh, the devil!" Audra said, feeling frustrated beyond endurance.

  "Were you summoning me?" Raeburn's deep voice startled her. As before, she had not realized that he had come into the parlor. Did that man ever make a normal entrance into a room?

  Audra straightened abruptly, the poker still in her hand. She might not be able to say all she wanted to Aunt Saunders, but that did not apply to Raeburn. Never mind her aunt's orders. She would send Raeburn away herself with a flea in his ear and take great satisfaction in doing so.

  Mustering all her pent up wrath, she prepared to begin, but he wasn't even looking at her. He glanced around the empty parlor, saying, "What? I am to be deprived of becoming better acquainted with Aunt Saunders? And I was even prepared to fetch my cloak to ward off the chill."

  His gaze came to rest upon Audra, the poker grasped in her fingers. "On the other hand, it promises to be a trifle warm in here."

  Her temper sizzling as much as the flames, Audra slammed the poker back into its position on the grate. "Your Grace—" she began wrathfully.

  "I know it is improper, but I would prefer it if you would call me Simon."

  "There are many things I would like to call you at this moment, but that is not one of them."

  When Raeburn laughed, she clenched her teeth and strove to begin again, but he interrupted once more, demanding, "What's that thing on your head?"

  "Your Grace, I—" She broke off, raising one hand self-consciously to her temple. "What thing?"

  "That lacy nonsense covering your hair."

  "It's a cap."

  "I hate it."

  "Could we ever discuss something besides the way I arrange my hair—"

  "Whatever you please," he said affably.

  "Such as why you are behaving like such a confounded blackguard this evening."

  "At least I, Miss Masters, am running true to my character. I wish I could say the same for you. If I had heard you mew "Yes, Aunt Saunders" one more time, I think I would have been ill from something besides that dinner you served up to me."

  "I thought you said it was perfect." Audra gave an angry laugh. "Listening to you this evening, apparently everything I do is perfect."

  "Alas, no. But I'll be hanged if I ever let anyone else say so, especially not that old, gray crow." He frowned. "What the deuce has gotten into you, Audra? I never expected to see you truckle to anyone."

  Audra was not so angry that she failed to note his disconcerting but somehow delightful use of her name. "I wasn't truckling, merely being respectful. Though it is none of your concern, I have need of my aunt's good opinion. She has a house in town, to say nothing of all manner of connections with the ton."

  "What the devil does that matter?"

  "It matters a great deal if one goes to London for the Season."

  Though Raeburn's eyes were snapping with annoyance, his voice sounded more subdued as he asked, "You are going away? You plan to accompany that woman back to the city?"

  "Not me. Cecily."

  Was it her imagination or did Raeburn seem relieved?

  "Poor child," he said.

  "She desires it above all things," Audra said. “And neither you nor anyone else is going to deprive her of this chance. So I am warning you—"

  "Hold! Softly, my girl." Raeburn's tone was gently chiding. "I would never try to stop Cecily from going."

  "You nearly did, the way you came waltzing in here, bringing back those dratted shoes. All your jests, the way you have been tormenting my aunt. You have given her the impression that I run an improper household. That I must be a bad influence on my sister."

  To Audra's horror, her voice broke. She was both appalled and astonished to discover herself near to tears. Raeburn muttered an oath, but she caught enough of it to realize he was damning himself, not her.

  He took her hand, roughly imprisoning it between his own massive ones. "I am sorry, Audra. I will admit I was annoyed at the way you left me in the lurch last night, and I resolved to have my revenge. I fear I carried my teasing too far."

  "I suppose there was no real harm done," Audra reluctantly tugged her hand free. She turned away to take a hasty swipe at her eyes. "Even without you, I would have run afoul of Aunt Saunders sooner or later. I always do. I never seem to do anything right, but for Cecily, I was trying so hard to impress her this time, to show her I had made quite a respectable home here at the lodge."

  "And so you have. The place is charming. I have always been fond of it. It was once my older brother's retreat, you know." Having made this confession, Raeburn lapsed into silence.

  When Audra dared look at him, she saw those harsh features stilled into lines more vulnerable, and in his eyes, a look of rare sweet melancholy.

  "Was that the same brother who . . . who died in the hunting accident?" Audra asked hesitantly.

  Raeburn nodded. "Robert often used this lodge. Like me, he felt the need to escape from the burdens of being the duke for awhile. Of course, the place was more austere then. I can't even remember if Robert had draperies."

  "You must dislike all the changes I have made."

  "No, you gave it just the touches it needed. I was wrong to let it remain so neglected and gloomy after Robert's death." Raeburn gave her a half-sheepish look. "You will think me quite mad, but whenever I passed by on horseback, I always had the impression the cottage was frowning. You seem to have made it smile again. I thank you for that. I believe Robert would have liked very much to have you living here."

  Fully aware of the enormity of this compliment, Audra was too overcome to speak.

  Raeburn appeared to give himself a brisk shake. "But enough of these foolish reminiscences. I appear to have distracted you from what you meant to say to me."

  "Which you know only too well how to do," Audra retorted with a tiny smile. "I am under strict orders from my aunt to send you on your way, not to let you return until you promise to behave better."

  "I should not like to have to stay away that long. It seems a pity I should have to leave so soon. The evening is quite young yet, with the others gone," Raeburn murmured, regarding her through half lowered lids, "That leaves the two of us quite alone. I thought that we might . . ."

  When he hesitated, Audra's pulse skipped a beat. Her hand fluttered nervously to her collar.

  "Play a little chess. Your uncle says you are quite good at the game."

  Audra did not know whether she felt more disappointed or relieved by this unexpected suggestion. But it reminded her of another grievance. "Yes, I gather you had quite a long talk with my uncle. I should think the pair of you might have better things to do than gossip about me."

  "That was not my intent at all. I was merely seeking spiritual advice." As he uttered this plumper, Raeburn concealed his face from her by bending over her chessboard. "Do you prefer the black or white pieces, my dear?"

  Although she was sorely tempted, Audra said firmly, "Neither. You know it is quite impossible for you to remain here when there is no one else present."

  "Why? I promise I won't attempt to ravish you, not after seeing the way you can wield that poker."

  "Of course I am not afraid that you would attempt anything so mutton-headed as that," Audra said scornfully. "But I have explained to you why I must behave with the strictest propriety."

  "Your aunt must be sound asleep by now. How would she know? Your grim-faced housekeeper does not seem the sort to indulge in a bit of backstairs gossip."

  "No, she isn't. I don't think she likes Aunt Saunders above half." To her dismay, Audra watched Raeburn pull up a stool, settling behind the board.
She made one last desperate effort to excuse herself. "I never play chess with any other gentlemen besides Uncle Matt."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because most men sulk when they lose, and if I have to let you win, what's the point in playing?"

  "Why, you arrogant wench. Sit down at once," Raeburn barked.

  Audra hesitated a moment more, but inclination won out. She drew up the opposite stool, saying, "Very well. But only one game, then you positively must go. Fortunately this shouldn't take that long."

  When Audra reached for a pawn to make her first move, his hand closed over hers, arresting the gesture.

  "Wait a minute." His eyes were dark with suspicion. "After what you said, even if I win, how will I know that you did not throw the game on purpose?"

  Audra smiled sweetly. "I fear you never will, sir."

  "That won't do. There must be some wager, something that will make it so disagreeable for you to lose, I will be certain that you have to play your best."

  "Name any amount you like, Your Grace, short of ten thousand pounds."

  "I wasn't thinking of money." The gleam that came into his eyes made her wary. "If I win, you have to give me a kiss."

  "What!" Audra drew back so sharply she nearly upset the whole chessboard. "How ridiculous. I won't agree to any such thing."

  "Of course, if you lack that much confidence in your skill . . ."

  He was goading her. Any prudent and proper lady would have risen indignantly and pointed him toward the door. Finding herself sadly lacking in either of those virtues, Audra remained where she was.

  Raising her chin in defiance, she demanded, "And just what do I get when I win?"

  "Whatever you like."

  Audra thought a minute, but it did not take her long to come up with an answer. "I want the freedom to pillage your library anytime I like."

  Raeburn's lips twitched, but he extended his hand solemnly to her across the table.

  "Done," he said.

  He didn't even smile as they shook on it, but something lurked in his eyes that made Audra feel curiously like a lamb being led to the fleecing.

  She settled back to make her first move. But her confidence felt restored as she observed Raeburn's manner of play. He took his turns quickly, shifting his pieces with appalling carelessness. Resolving not to be lulled into a feeling of false security, Audra played with more than her usual care.

  While she debated at length between inching forward a knight or her bishop, Raeburn's voice broke in unexpectedly upon her thoughts.

  "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

  "Mmmm?" she replied.

  "Why did you leave so suddenly last night?"

  The question was asked in the softest of accents, but she was still considerably startled. Looking up, she stammered, "Didn't I ever explain? Cecily was taken ill."

  "So ill that you couldn't even pause to say goodbye to me?"

  "I am sorry. I know it was frightfully rude. You must have been quite angry."

  "Not angry so much as disappointed. Supper, without you, proved a most tedious affair."

  It pleased her, perhaps far too much, to hear him say so.

  "My leaving was very likely all for the best," she said. She regretted she had not returned some more noncommittal answer, for Raeburn immediately took her up on it.

  "Why would you say a thing like that?" he asked.

  "People get the most absurd notions." No longer able to meet his gaze, Audra fiddled with the carved ivory knight, hoping he didn't notice the way her fingers trembled. "They might begin to think foolish things like that it was me you were fixing your interest upon. Utterly ridiculous, I know."

  She waited for him to agree that indeed, it was absurd. She was further flustered when he didn't.

  "I see," was all he said gravely. "And you would find such gossip disturbing?"

  "No." She was too quick to disclaim. "Usually gossip doesn't bother me in the least. Unless . . . well, I don't like to be accused of flinging myself at men, being thought like my mother."

  "My dear, foolish Audra. No one who knows you could ever think that."

  His voice became suddenly so warm, it was like a caress, brushing along her skin.

  "Do you mind not talking anymore?" she faltered. "You are distracting me from the game."

  He lapsed into an obliging silence, but that was somehow worse. His eyes never left her face. Dark, mesmerizing, they seemed to trace every curve, the line of her cheekbones, her jaw, coming to linger upon her lips. The parlor began to seem unaccountably warm. Audra could feel her brow go damp with perspiration, her heart thudding so hard she could scarce think.

  She didn't realize how much her concentration had been broken, how much His Grace's own playing had improved until he said quietly, "Check."

  Too late did Audra see the peril to her queen. Raeburn had maneuvered her into a position almost impossible to escape. If she could give herself time to clear her head, to think, she might yet find a way to win. But Audra no longer seemed capable of doing so. She could focus on nothing but how near Raeburn was, only the small table between them, the army of felled pawns and knights a fragile line of defense.

  On impulse, Audra reached out, making one last desperate move—the wrong one.

  "Checkmate." In a flash, her queen was gone.

  Her eyes flew up to meet his. The heat in the room became nigh unbearable. Audra pushed away from the table and stalked to the window, pressing her hands to her cheeks in an effort to cool them. Her heart pounded as she heard the scrape of another stool, Raeburn's footstep behind her. She sensed how close he stood, even without turning around.

  "I don't like to dun a lady, Miss Masters," he said. "But there is the small matter of a wager to be settled."

  "It doesn't count. It wasn't fair," she blurted out. "You did things."

  "Are you accusing me of cheating?"

  "You deliberately broke my concentration. You . . . you kept looking at me."

  He placed his hands upon her shoulders and brought her around to face him. "What a great deal of fuss you are making. I fear that is why I never play with ladies anymore. They take losing so hard." His teasing smile coaxed no response from her.

  "It's not the losing," she said. "It's that ridiculous wager."

  "Is one kiss such a high price then?" He lowered his hands, releasing her. "Very well, though I would have thought you to have more honor than to renege on a bet."

  He started to turn away from her. Although Audra gave vent to an exasperated sigh, she caught him by the sleeve, stopping him.

  "Blast you, I never said I was reneging. The whole thing is so extraordinarily foolish, but . . . but take your kiss if you want it. It's not going to be anything so wonderful. I haven't had much practice."

  "Well, don't poker up that way. It's not going to hurt, I promise you."

  Yet as he stepped closer, Audra could not seem to help tensing her hands into fists in front of her, holding her shoulders as stiff as the backboard of a wagon. Raeburn paused, frowning.

  "Do you mind if I take off that lace thing? I can't bring myself to kiss a woman who is trying so hard to look like my maiden aunt."

  Before she could even gasp out her protest, he tugged off the lace cap. Her curls at once tumbled free, despite her best effort to smooth them.

  "There is a reason I wear that thing, you know," she said. "My hair is heavy, and the cap helps keep it pinned up."

  "Yes, forever hidden away." Raeburn plucked ruthlessly at the remaining hairpins until all the strands cascaded about her shoulders in wild disarray.

  He brushed it back, his fingers snagging on the silken strands. "Did you know," he said, "That by candlelight, your hair shines with traces of a most remarkable burnished red?"

  "You mean like dead leaves," she said hoarsely.

  "No, I mean like flames," he murmured. Burrowing beneath her hair, his hand covered the nape of her neck. Gently, but inexorably, he pulled her forward.

  As his face
drew near, Audra closed her eyes, bracing herself. But his lips merely brushed across hers in a feather-light whisper. The contact was so light, so fleeting, it tantalized her. Involuntarily, she uttered a soft protest when he drew back.

  Her eyes fluttered open. That was a mistake for she found herself staring directly into his. She could almost feel herself slipping into the silence of his eyes. Her knees threatened to buckle, and it was a most fortunate thing that Raeburn was strong enough to hold her up.

  She became aware that he was holding her, his arms banding tight about her, crushing her close. His mouth descended upon hers again, this time hard enough to make her aware of his heat, ruthless enough to set the whole room to spinning. Long, lingering moments later, he pulled back. Neither of them daring to draw breath, they stared at each other.

  The sensations that coursed through her were wondrous enough, but seeing her own turbulent emotions mirrored back in his eyes was like a miracle, almost more than she could bear. Still caught within the circle of his arms, she could not have moved if she had wanted to.

  "That felt more like two kisses," she whispered. "I only owed you one."

  "Sorry," he said huskily. "I'll return one at once."

  This time she didn't wait for him to bend to her, but raised up slightly on her toes, her lips pliant and eager. She wound her arms about him, twining her fingers in his hair. Raeburn's lips moved over hers with such passion it was as if he meant to devour her. Far from being frightened, she embraced him in a manner equally as fierce.

  Never had she kissed any man with such wild abandon. What was she doing? The thought, vague as it was, drove a sliver of sanity into her mind. And with the return of sanity came a kind of blind panic. She broke off the kiss, panting, mounting a desperate struggle to be free.

  Although his face was flushed with desire, Raeburn permitted her to wrench away, his eyes hazy with confusion.

  "Audra?" he said, reaching out to her. Even the way he said her name was enough to prove her undoing.

  She backed away. "No. Please." Her cheeks burned with doubt and embarrassment. What the devil had gotten into her to be casting herself at Raeburn that way?