To Tame a Dangerous Lord (Courtship Wars)

A hollow ache tightened Madeline’s chest. Rayne was an amazing lover, generous with his body but not his heart, and the way he had of holding back while giving to her carnally only underscored the vast canyon yawning between them.

Another wave of shocking longing swept over Madeline. She was desperately hungry for more than carnal pleasure with Rayne; she frightened herself with the strength of her want. Yet she couldn’t tell him of her love, for it might drive him even further away.

Feeling unaccountably wounded, Madeline moved unsteadily over to where her dressing gown lay pooled on the floor. Picking up the garment, she drew it on to shield her nakedness—and her vulnerability.

Then she forced herself to smile at Rayne, determined to pretend that his coldness hadn’t caused her such intense pain.

“Perhaps we should dine downstairs after all,” she said lightly. “We don’t want your servants to suspect we have been making inappropriate use of this table. I will dress and meet you in the dining room in half an hour, if that is agreeable?”

“Yes, that is agreeable.”

Vowing not to show her hurt at his cool indifference, Madeline turned away and headed toward her bedchamber.

Rayne watched her leave, torn between guilt and relief. It had taken all his willpower to resist M

adeline’s endearing attempts at seduction. Then she’d smiled that enchanting smile again and he was lost. When he’d made love to her, he felt her warmth, her wetness pulling him deeper and deeper. He wanted to impale her until he drowned in her.

Clenching his teeth, Rayne swiftly began to dress. He was losing the battle with himself, despite the memory of his past betrayal. He would have to gird his loins much more forcefully, so to speak.

He pulled on his pantaloons with a jerk, reminding himself of all the reasons he had to be wary of Madeline. She hadn’t drugged his wine as another female spy had once done, yet she had ratcheted up her seduction with an aggressiveness that even Camille had never dared use.

Throwing on his dressing gown, Rayne stalked from the sitting room. Madeline held him trapped in a web of raw need, but it was time to break free. Tonight he would begin laying his own trap for her in order to uncover her true intentions.

Chapter Sixteen

It is doubly painful, Maman, to see my cherished hopes endangered by my own brother.

Throughout dinner Madeline managed to pretend a nonchalance she didn’t feel. Rayne maintained the same cool detachment as earlier, with no intimacy or tenderness or humor or the provocative banter that had marked their relationship before their marriage.

When he announced his intention to spend the next few days in London, Madeline was not certain whether to be disappointed or relieved. At least during his absence she could take stock of her failing campaign and perhaps consult with Fanny and the Loring sisters to revise her strategy.

Surprisingly, Rayne mentioned where in his study his safe was located—hidden in the wall behind a George Stubbs painting of a Thoroughbred racehorse—and where he usually kept the key—in a jar in his bedchamber wardrobe. His good-night kiss was a bare brush of her lips, though, so Madeline retired to bed despondent.

Rayne was gone from Riverwood when she awoke the following morning. Depressed and bleary-eyed, she had to hurry to make her class at the academy on time. And when she arrived home shortly after noon, a letter was waiting for her.

Madeline’s heart leapt when she recognized the scrawled handwriting. Gerard had finally responded to her appeals for a reply.

After handing her pelisse and bonnet to Bramsley, she went upstairs to read the missive in the privacy of her own bedchamber.

The handwriting was particularly bad, Madeline saw upon breaking the wax seal, as if her brother had scribbled in some urgency.

Maman, we taught Gerard to write better than this was her distracted thought as she struggled to make out some of the initial words. Her heart sank with each succeeding revelation.

My dearest sister,

I must confess, you were correct in your allegation. Before eloping, I did indeed take the de Vasse necklace from Lord Ackerby, but only in order to return it to Lynette’s parents, who are the rightful owners. The vicomte and vicomtesse’s jewels were stolen shortly after they fled for their lives during their country’s ghastly Revolution. The necklace illicitly wound up in the possession of the previous Baron Ackerby, who passed it down to the current one. I have no intention of giving it back to this Ackerby.

The difficulty is that he visited the farm two days ago with three of his henchmen and tore the house apart, looking for the necklace. When they couldn’t find it, they had the dastardly gall to beat Mrs. Dobson to force her to give up my location. She refused, loyal soul that she is, but I think it is only a matter of time before Ackerby finds me.

Madeline gave a soft cry at the thought of their dear, sweet, elderly housekeeper being tyrannized by the baron’s ruffians. Clapping her hand over her mouth, she read on.

My beloved’s parents know we took refuge at her cousin Claude’s cottage in Maidstone. Lynette wrote to them last week to tell them she was safe and happy. But since she has received no word in reply, she fears they have disowned her for wedding me, just as we expected. I can only fear what they will reveal to Ackerby if he questions them.

Madeline shook her head in growing alarm, imagining the uproar at the de Vasse house if Ackerby had descended upon them with his henchmen. Lynette’s parents would have been extremely upset that their only daughter had absconded with an English farmer, gentleman or not. They might even be angry enough to disclose Gerard’s location to Ackerby.

I only heard just this morning from Mrs. Dobson, who wished to warn me. I don’t dare let Ackerby find us, so we have left Claude’s cottage and gone into hiding nearby.

Utterly dismayed, Madeline sank down in a chair. Gerard, you foolish boy, what have you done? Ackerby would not give up trying to regain his property, even by violent means.