Craving the Rake's Touch (Rakes of the Caribbean) by Bronwyn Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

my news
hadn’t come from the source.” He winked at Benedict. “I doubt anyone else will
hear of it for a day or two. She could still pull it off unless I decide to
spill the news.”
    Ah, Benedict understood now. Devonshire wanted to negotiate.
He’d never liked Devonshire much. The man had all the natural enticements to be
considered a matrimonial catch. But beneath all that, Devonshire was mean and
manipulative and extraordinarily disloyal. He was not a man to be trusted. Of
all the men present, Devonshire was the man he’d least want for Sarah. The very
thought of her chained to such a man turned his skin cold. Devonshire’s next
words fairly made his skin crawl.
    “Ensure that Sarah picks me and I’ll squash the scandal. She
was considering me as a forerunner in this merry chase until dinner last night,
or should I say until you showed up and sequestered yourself away with her.”
    Devonshire gave him a speculative stare. “Why do you suppose
that is? Does she favor another or did you say something that might have
redirected her attentions? She can’t seriously be considering Badgley’s boy.
He’ll have to have his father consummate the marriage, did you tell her
that?”
    Benedict summoned a preternatural amount of patience.
Devonshire needed to be taught a lesson about respect and decorum when it came
to Sarah Dryden. “I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong man. I cannot guarantee I
hold any sway with her. I’m simply here out of a favor to her brother.”
    Devonshire gave an easy shrug. “I understand. I misjudged the
situation. Perhaps I should put the situation directly to her then. Lady Sarah
strikes me as an imminently practical woman. Thank you for your time, DeBreed.
Enjoy the fishing today.”
    Devonshire turned on his heel and strode inside. Benedict
gripped the brick half wall of the veranda, seething. Sarah had to be warned.
Every fiber of him wanted to run to her and tell her of Devonshire’s trap. But
that was the worst thing he could do. Devonshire would be watching, waiting for
exactly that. And who knew what Devonshire’s response might be? Benedict could
imagine him denying it when Sarah confronted him. He could imagine Devonshire
suggesting to her that he, Benedict, had made it up for some nefarious purpose
to perhaps dissuade her from his suit.
    Benedict turned to go inside, his hands fists at his side.
Those hands were metaphorically tied at the moment. How did he save Sarah?
    The busyness of the house party saved him from any foolishly
motivated chivalry. Even if he’d wanted to rush to her side, the party was
getting underway for the fishing expedition and Sarah was in the thick of it,
guiding people to carriages and directing servants with hampers and fishing
poles, tents and blankets, to wagons. Her sister, Annaliese, was with her.
Younger and shyer, Annaliese was glued to Sarah’s side. The best Benedict could
do was bide his time, wait for a discreet opening and in the meanwhile devote
himself to keeping Teddy out of Devonshire’s clutches. Who knew what poisonous
rumors Devonshire would fill Teddy’s head with given the chance.
    * * *
    Every chance she had, Sarah’s gaze wandered in
Benedict’s direction. It didn’t matter where he went, her eyes seemed to know.
And they seemed to want to undress him. She found herself mentally removing his
jacket, stripping off his shirt, tracing the contours of his chest in her mind.
Contours she now knew were there. It was a private torture to play such a wicked
game knowing she had to let him go. She tried to focus on the others, on
Brisbourne, who suddenly seemed so much less engaging than she’d thought him at
dinner, and on Badgley’s shy son, but to no avail.
    “Do you want to talk to Benedict?” Annaliese asked quietly at
her elbow as they walked along the river’s edge.
    “Why would you think that?” Sarah said a bit too sharply,
surprised by the comment.
    “You’ve been watching him all morning.” Annaliese