Who Wants a Brawling Baron (Romancing the Rake 6)

But she didn’t have time to ask. A cry ripped through the air, making Charlie freeze. Ophelia had dropped to the ground, holding her ankle.

Charlie didn’t think, she started running, racing to Ophelia’s side. Chase was already looking at her foot by the time Charlie and Raithe reached her.

“I stepped on something,” Ophelia said, assessing the blood dripping down her heel.

“Go get on your boots,” Raithe rumbled out, dropping to the ground and shrugging off his coat. He ripped pieces from his shirt. “I’ll bandage up the foot and then you can get her back to the house for better care.”

“Good plan.” Chase leaned over and reassured Ophelia with a quick, hard kiss. “I’ll be right back.” Then he raced off.

Charlie held Ophelia’s hand as Raithe tore strips from his shirt and wrapped them about her injured appendage.

“It doesn’t look too bad.”

Raithe gave Ophelia a gentle smile that stole Charlie’s breath. He looked like a completely different man when he smiled like that. It hadn’t been for her, of course. But if it had…

“Ready?” Chase asked as he returned, scooping Ophelia into his arms. “Thank you for your help, Balstead. I’m going to trust you to quickly return my cousin to the house.”

Raithe gave a short jerk to his chin. “We’ll just put on our shoes and come right back.”

Chase didn’t answer as he turned and began sprinting back toward the path with Ophelia in his arms.

Charlie watched them go, just a touch of envy coloring her brow. She’d craved excitement, distraction all this time. But what if, instead, she allowed herself to fall in love with one of her suitors? Not only would she fill that void, but she’d also have a new family all her own. A different kind of excitement. A lasting kind.

She looked over at the man standing next to her in the sand. She could fall for him…his dark good looks and shoulders appeared as though they might hold up the entire world, especially her.

Raithe felt her eyes like a physical touch and he clenched his fist to keep from dragging her against his body. He’d been fighting that urge since this bloody walk started. “No good ever comes from taking off your shoes.”

“Really? Do you do everything in shoes?” she asked, grinning over at him.

He stilled. If she asked him if he fucked in shoes, he might have to drop her to the sand and kiss her senseless. “Such as?”

“Do you take a bath in them?” she grinned, giving his arm a bit of a push.

He looked over at her. “Do you deal with every difficult situation with jokes and bad behavior?”

He watched her smile fall. “Beast,” she accused, and then she lifted her skirts and began stomping her way back to the little hideaway.

He could see her slender ankles as she moved, her hips swaying as she went. He’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t kiss her again. It was dangerous. But as he followed, he knew that he would. That he needed another taste of her sweet fire.

Perhaps it was because he now understood they were alike in more ways than he’d guessed. Or maybe it was because he forgot that constant ache he’d carried around since Jennifer’s death. But he wanted another drink from her sweet nectar.

He followed her, easily catching up to her at the entrance. She disappeared inside and he followed, watching as she huffed and tossed herself on the blanket. Then she brushed off her foot and grabbed a stocking, pointing her toe as she started to slide the silky fabric onto her foot.

“I’ll help,” he said as he dropped into the sand on his knees just in front of her.

“I don’t need your help.” She tossed him a dismissive glance as she pulled the clothing higher, over her slender ankle, and up that shapely calf. He swallowed, his mouth drying at the sight.

He reached out a hand, wrapping his fingers just under her knee. She gasped. Slowly, he pulled her toward him, planting his other hand in the sand so that he might lean out and take her lips with his. “Charlie,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Well. You did,” she said and he heard the raw note of her voice.

He frowned, trying to decide how to proceed. His chest squeezed. He didn’t want to hurt her. Maybe he’d been emotionally closed for too long and could no longer read a woman’s reactions. “How will I continue your education if you’re not talking or looking at me?”

“I don’t care about that any longer.” She held up a hand to stop h

im from pulling her any closer. “I don’t misbehave and I resent your accusation that I do. Well, last night was a bit of an exception. I’m just feeling…”

“Lost,” he answered. Her hand softened even as it came in contact with his chest and he kept pulling her closer, sliding her through the sand.