Ravished by the Rake (Danger and Desire 1)

By any objective standards Dita looked ghastly—pale, bruised, serious, her hair hanging in tangled, sticky clumps—but her dignity and her anger shone through. He would have been happier, he realised, if she had been weeping. That did not make him feel any better about himself either.

‘Oh, considerably. It was very nice the first time, but this was better,’ she said. ‘I haven’t any grounds for comparison, you understand, but the sobriety would have helped. And, of course, no doubt your technique has improved with age and experience.’

‘You little cat.’

‘Meow,’ she said bitterly as she got to her feet with none of her usual grace. For a moment he glimpsed the ungainly child as she adjusted the grey blanket.

He hardened his heart. Dita, who valued love and emotion in marriage, had rejected him. Foolish, headstrong, romantic idiot of a woman. Did she think he wanted to be leg-shackled to a passionate, troublesome, headstrong female? A narrow escape, he told himself, feeling sick. But it wasn’t. She had thrown his honour back in his face.

‘Ready?’ He made his voice as brisk as he could with his throat rasped raw by salt water and emotion. ‘We will discuss this later.’ She shot him a mutinous look. ‘Now the sun is up I can at least tell which direction we’re facing. Last night I couldn’t make head nor tail of the stars—I have been away from northern Europe too long, I suppose.’

‘Or possibly you were a trifle weary for some reason,’ Dita suggested with some of the old spirit back in her voice as she came out of the hut to join him.

‘Could be that,’ he conceded. Now was no time to pursue this shattering argument; he needed to get her safe. ‘Now, that’s a good-sized island over there and that’s east, so, if I recall the map correctly, it must be St Mary’s, which is the biggest. Which makes this one Tresco, and if I’m right it has a fishing village at the northern end.’ He glanced down at her, but her face was averted. ‘It won’t take me long; you should rest here.’

‘I am coming,’ Dita said with an edge to her voice that warned him that she was close to the end of her tether.

‘All right,’ he said and began to walk. It was hard now he was actually moving. Everything seemed to hurt, he was desperately thirsty and shaken to the core over what Dita had told him. But she kept up with the slow pace he set, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other, and he wondered whether any of the other women on the ship would have shown the same stoical courage. Averil Heydon, perhaps, but none of the other young women had the sheer guts. Probably they wouldn’t need them; thanks to Averil and Dita, they had gone off in the first boats.

‘I should have insisted you went off in an earlier boat,’ he said, following his thoughts.

‘How? By picking me up and throwing me into it?’ she asked in a valiant imitation of her best provocative voice. ‘You must learn you cannot order me about, Alistair.’

‘So you say,’ he snapped. It was bite back or take her in his arms and kiss her until her voice lost that little quaver that cut straight through his anger and shame and frustration. And he knew where that would lead. ‘Damn it, Dita, you must marry me.’

Her silence was almost more loaded with anger than a retort would have been. Then after a few more steps she said, ‘I doubt I will ever marry. If a man asks me to marry him, despite the scandal, and I love him, then I will marry him. Otherwise, I will just have to stay a spinster. I am not going to marry you in order to ease your guilty conscience, Alistair.’

They plodded on for a few more painful steps along the turf above the high-water mark. The sea was grey and choppy after the storm and he kept his body between it and her as much as he could. ‘So you propose a test if someone proposes—does he love you enough to marry you despite Doyle?’

‘I suppose so. I had not given it much thought; I just know that is what I would do.’

Would he have passed her test? he had wondered. If, before this shattering revelation, he found he loved Dita Brooke and wanted to marry her, would the thought of one lover in her past make a difference? He thought of his one love, his past love. She’d had another lover, and that had broken his heart. But then, look who the man was—

Love was a fantasy and a trap. Dita must agree to marry him whether she liked it or not.

‘I hear voices!’ Dita looked up, alert. ‘Over there, past those rocks.’

They stumbled forwards, his arm around her shoulders, and, as they reached the low tumbled headland three men in blue came over it. Sailors. ‘They’ve set the navy to search,’ he said as the men broke into a run. ‘It is all right now, Dita, you’re safe.’

‘I was always safe with you,’ she said, her voice thready, then, as he held her, she went limp and fainted dead away.

Chapter Fourteen

‘… Several ships at anchor in St Mary’s Pool, so the Governor ordered off crews to all the islands to check along the shorelines.’ The confident West Country voice soothed Dita with the longed-for cadences of home.

‘How many survivors?’ Alistair’s voice rumbled against her ear. He must be holding her, she realised, coming out of the hazy dream-state she had been in. Hiding, she reproved herself. Coward. But she did not move. He was warm now, and it was not blanket she was snuggled against, but good woollen cloth. I love you, I hate you, I need you … Why couldn’t you have told me you loved me and made it all right?

‘Can’t say for sure, my lord. All the longboats that went off before yours got in to harbour—some to St Mary’s, some to Old Grimsby on Tresco. But an elderly man on one of those had a heart seizure and a lady perished of the cold, so I hear. There are injuries as well—I don’t know how serious. The crew all got off safe after your boat was swamped.’

‘There was a passenger left with the crew—any news of him?’

‘No, my lord, I’m sorry, I don’t know. But they’ll be picking people up all along the beaches, I’ll be bound. You’ll hear the news when we get you back to the Governor’s house. Not long now, this is a good strong crew.’

The strange rocking motion made sense now, and the breeze on her face: she was in a boat. Dita opened her eyes and moved and Alistair’s hand pressed her cheek tighter against his chest. ‘Don’t be afraid. We’re nearly there.’

‘I’m all right.’ She shifted again and he relaxed his arms so that she could sit up straight on his knees. She wanted to move away from him, but there was nowhere to go. They were in a navy jolly boat with smartly dressed sailors at the oars, making good progress towards a rugged little jetty dead ahead. Opposite her a lieutenant with red hair and a crop of freckles looked at her with concern on his plain face. ‘I am sorry to have been so feeble,’ she apologised. ‘I think it was relief.’

‘It will be that, my lady,’ he said. ‘Lieutenant Marlow, ma’am. You probably don’t recall, but we took you to Mrs Welling’s cottage and she found you some clothes—not that they’ll be what you are used to. You’ll be wanting a nice hot cup of tea, I expect.’