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

hesitated.
“It was nice of him to come. I miss him. I always feel less shy when he’s
around.” She nodded toward the spot where Benedict stood in the water, pole in
hand as he explained something to her brother. “He’s good with Teddy. I think
maybe he’s good with a lot of people. He helps us be less awkward.”
    Sarah stared at her sister, startled by her insight.
Annaliese’s face brightened, her grip on Sarah’s arm tightened. “I know, Sarah.
You should marry Benedict. If you’re going to marry, why not him? We all like
him and he’s been part of the family for ages, or at least he used to be.” Her
enthusiasm faded a little. “Then he just stopped coming around, but he’s back
now.”
    Sarah watched Benedict with Teddy and her stomach did a queer
flip. He was good with people. How did she tell her sister, though, that he
didn’t keep his promises? How did she tell her sister the truth behind the house
party? She couldn’t pick Benedict because he didn’t have enough money. He had an
old property in West Sussex and a dream. Did he still have that property? Did he
still have that dream? He laughed at something Teddy said, the sound of it
drifting to her over the gurgle of the river. This time it was her heart that
clenched. It did that before it broke, she knew from experience. But she knew
from instinct it wouldn’t heal this time. Perhaps it never had.
    Sarah looked downstream to Brisbourne. His head was bare, the
sun shining off his blond hair, his body lean and graceful as he reeled in a
trout, the men around him cheering and joking. She wished—oh, how she
wished—that she might love him, might feel for him a fraction of the intensity
she felt for Benedict DeBreed. But she felt nothing.
    “It’s not fair, Sarah,” Annaliese said softly. “It’s not fair
to Brisbourne. He’s a good man, he deserves to be more than your consolation
prize. It’s not fair to you, either. Why would you throw away happiness?”
    “It’s not that simple,” Sarah began but Benedict caught her eye
before she could look away. He handed Teddy the fishing pole and started toward
her.
    “It can be,” Annaliese whispered, slipping quietly from her
side.
    Benedict was wet, his hair damp, but it only added to his
appeal. “Teddy’s getting big, and Annaliese is going to be a beauty in London
next year.” It was as good of a conversation starter as any, but Sarah sensed he
hadn’t strode through the river to tell her that. Something else lurked behind
those green eyes.
    He dropped his voice and guided her farther downriver toward
semiprivacy. “Sarah, we have to talk.”
    “No, we don’t.” Sarah stalled the urgency in his voice. Perhaps
she could talk herself into Brisbourne if she thought of Benedict less, although
she was having little success on that front. “We both know what last night was
and what it wasn’t.”
    Benedict gripped her arm and shook his head, his seriousness
frightening. “It’s not that. Camry wrote. Devonshire knows.”

Chapter Eleven
    The news hit her like a blow. Sarah could feel the color drain from her face. She didn’t need to be told what Devonshire knew. If Camry had written, she could imagine it all too well. “I’m all done up, then.” Panic welled at hearing herself speak the words out loud. It tore up the column of her throat, and she felt as if she might scream. “No one will have me now.” What was she going to do? What was the family going to do? How would she get them through this until Ren could succeed? He’d only been gone a month. He’d need far more time than this to turn the sugar plantation around.
    Benedict’s grip on her arm was firm, the only anchor in the sea of her whirling, panicking thoughts. “Don’t put the cart before the horse, Sarah. You’re overthinking things.” His voice was a stern command, the tone of reason. “Devonshire doesn’t intend to announce it. He intends to use it as leverage to ensure you accept his proposal.” It