Meddle in a Marquess’s Affairs: How to Reform a Rake Read online

  She stood and crossed the room, heading for the door. Only as she was about to step through, did she notice that Lily and Max stood just in the hall on the other side of the threshold. “Camille,” Lily placed her hand at the base of her throat. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting him a blanket. He’s cold.” Camille made to push past them but Lily stepped in her way. “You don’t have to take care of him, you know. One of the staff can-—”

  “I’d rather do it myself,” Camille answered, moving around her sister. She didn’t mean to be rude but being cold would make him more likely to catch an infection.

  “Camille,” Lily called again, following behind her sister. “You don’t have to do this. We could hire a nurse, if you’re more comfortable with a professional, but you’ve got your own affairs to attend.”

  Sadness filled her chest. “I do not and we both know it.” Camille winced. She was devoid of future prospects and not likely to have any in the near future.

  “Still.” Lily touched her sister’s back. “It might be better left to a professional.”

  “I agree.” Camille turned her head back to look at her sister as she entered her own room. “A nurse could consult me in his care. Made sure I’ve thought of everything.”

  Lily tilted her head to the side, letting out a small huff. “You know that’s not what I meant.” Camille crossed the room and grabbed a blanket from the bed. Turning back she realized Max had followed them.

  “Your sister is right. We can hire nurses for the day and the night.” Max’s chin bobbed up and down to emphasize his words. It was the most emphatic she had ever seen him. How odd.

  “Excellent. Begin the process of finding help. I’ll take care of him in the meantime.” Then she started back toward his room.

  “You’re aware that you’re doing it again,” Lily said.

  Camille stopped in her tracks. “What?”

  “Getting involved where you don’t have to.” Lily’s lips pulled taut and her brows drew together. “I know you want to help but you don’t need to—”

  Camille waved her hand to stop her sister’s words. “I know you’re right. I’m meddling…again. I can’t seem to help myself.”

  Her brother-in-law gave her a small smile. “Without your meddle-er help Lily and I might never have gotten married. It’s a good thing most of the time.” His smile turned down, his mouth pinching. “But Rex, he’s my friend and all, but you shouldn’t get involved with him, Camille. He’s not the sort to trifle with. Even among lords and rakes he is dangerous.”

  Camille raised her eyebrows as she looked back at Max. “He’s wounded and unresponsive. How much trouble could he possibly cause me?”

  One of Max’s shoulders raised up and down. “I don’t know. He’s Rex. He’ll find a way.”

  She clucked her tongue. “Is that what this is all about? You two are lurking in doorways and following me around because you think the man who got shot while trying to defend my honor will cause me trouble?”

  Lily stepped closer. “He’s a rake, Camille. And you’re unwed and—”

  “Already ruined.” Camille started walking again, her heart poundings in her ears. Why did those words still hurt so much? “I wish to see to his care. I owe him that much after what he did for me and—”

  “Stop,” Max commanded deep and low as he waved her away. “He doesn’t even know who you are. He was defending Lily.”

  Camille did stop walking then. Not know who she was? When he’d looked into her eyes she was certain that he knew exactly who she was, that he had seen into her very soul. Was that why she wanted to care for him? Because she felt some sort of connection with him? “That doesn’t matter at all.”

  She was a fallen woman and he was an eligible marquess. Camille held no hopes of romance. But Rex had gotten shot by the man who managed to hurt those she cared for and so she’d help him however she could.

  She skirted around Max and headed back to the room. Covering Rex with the blanket, she tucked it around his body. She heard Max and Lily come into the room behind her but she didn’t look up.

  “Camille, I must insist you return to your room. It’s for everyone’s best interest that you do. Immediately,” Max rumbled behind her.

  “I won’t,” she answered without looking at him. She kept her eyes on Rex’s face. “If you have to toss me out, I’ll understand but—”

  Lily stretched out her hand to touch her. “Don’t say such things.”

  “But I need to care for him.” She straightened and spun about to face them. “Michael has managed to hurt nearly everyone I care about. I invited him into our family and so I need to correct these wrongs.” She took a breath giving first Lily and then Max a long stare. “Please understand.”

  Max’s face scrunched up. “If he hurts you, I’ll blame myself. I brought him into this house.”

  Camille shook her head. “Don’t be silly. He won’t hurt me. Besides, I’m already broken.”

  “Broken?” A voice rasped from her right. Twisting her head, her green eyes met his dark and penetrating gaze. In the darkness of the room, they appeared almost black. “Who broke you? Shall I kill him for you?”

  * * *

  Rex looked up at the angel standing over his bed. Had he died? He shifted his shoulders slightly and pain radiated all down one side of his body. Surely he was alive, death didn’t hurt this much, did it?

  “Don’t move, you’ll pull out your stitches,” the angel clucked her tongue and leaned over him.

  A tendril of her hair floated down, brushing his cheek. It was soft and silky and as she moved over him, he caught the distinct scent of vanilla. Gentle hands tucked the covers tight about him.

  “Stitches?” he asked. The pain seemed to be relegated to his right side. Perhaps with his left hand, he could reach up and touch that hair. Maybe stroke her high cheekbone or run his fingers across her delicate jaw and then down the slim column of her neck.

  She let out a breath and it blew across his face, warm and inviting. “You were shot in the side.”

  Shot? Fuzzy memories of an alley and lone gunman floated about his mind but he couldn’t quite put what had happened together. “Always knew my end would be violent. It’s likely what I deserve.”

  “Deserve?” she asked. Her gaze met his and he noted the lovely shade of green, like new spring grass, that colored her eyes.

  He did reach his hand out from the covers then. The limb seemed to weigh twice as much as it usually did as he lifted it to her face and brushed his thumb along her plump curve of her lips. “I began as I’ll likely end: a ruffian on the street.”

  She shook her head, his thumb trailing along the silk of her skin. “I don’t know how you’ll end. But it won’t be now and it won’t be here. I’ll see to it.” Then she took his hand and placed it back under the covers, tucking him in once again.

  “Camille,” another woman gasped.

  Rex shifted his gaze to Max’s wife, Lily. Had she said Camille? The angel that cared for him was Camille? Camille Ducat? She was the very woman that the gypsy had foretold him about? A shiver ran down his spine.

  He shifted his gaze back to the heavenly blonde still tucking covers about him. Bloody hell, he was in trouble and the wound in his side was the least of it.

  Chapter Three

  In the end, Lily and Max relented. Camille sat at Rex’s side wondering what the man had done to make her sister and brother-in-law so afraid to leave her alone with him.

  With a shrug, she decided it didn’t matter. The important thing was that she was here. After she grabbed a bowl of cool water by the bedside, she dipped a cloth into it, and squeezed a few drops into his mouth and then a few more.

  He hadn’t woken again, which both disappointed and relieved Camille. On the one hand, once he could stay awake, he’d likely be on the mend. On the other, he disconcerted her when he started talking.

  There was the intensity of his gaze. Astounding considering he was bedridden. Then there w
as the way his touch had sent a riot of sensations careening through her body.

  She took a deep breath, determined to ignore those feelings. Her only goal was to see that he got better. Once he completely healed, she’d leave him be as Max had requested.

  One corner of her lips turned down. It was near midnight and the house was silent. Slowly sitting on the bed next to him, her hip pressed to his. Lifting her hand, she brushed his hair back from his face. Camille thought of her ex-fiancé. Michael had been a classically handsome man, his face the stuff of Greek statues.

  Camille smoothed her hand down Rex’s scalp, her fingers tracing the shape of his ear. When they reached the soft lobe, she trailed them along his jaw. Rex didn’t have those same looks. His were rough and craggy. His nose had a slight bend as though it had been broken and he bore a small scar on one cheek. But somehow, his held even more appeal than Michael’s ever had. Where Michael has always had a cheerfully bright smile, Rex was dark and intense in a way that hinted at emotion under the surface.

  She touched the thick muscles of his neck and then over the broad sweep of his shoulder. So strong. She gently squeezed the bulging muscles of his upper arm. A man like this…she stopped. She’d been about to think that a man like this could protect a woman but he didn’t belong to her. If Max was correct—and who would know this man better than a close friend—Rex was not a man who would ever belong to any woman. Camille would do best to keep that in mind.

  Still, it was a lovely dream. Asleep like this, she could caress him and envision a life that would likely never be hers. She’d given up marrying a man like the marquess when she’d engaged herself to a complete cad. Frustration squeezed her heart. A mistake she’d likely pay for throughout the rest of her life.

  She let out a little sigh at the thought.

  “Is something the matter?” Rex’s voice rumbled underneath her hand. She jerked her hand away, realizing she’d been running her palm along his massive chest.

  “Nothing.” She swallowed down the stiff lump that clogged her throat. “My apologies. I was thinking of something else and I—”

  “Put your hand back on my collar,” he demanded.

  “What?” Instead she pressed her fingers to her own chest. The warmth from her palm sifted through her clothes, like touching him had branded her. “I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have. I—”

  “Angel,” he whispered as he untangled his arm from the covers and then grasped her hip, pressing them closer together. For a man near death, his grip was firm and the pressure of them being pressed together made her ache between her legs. “The warmth of your hand makes me feel much improved. Put it back on my chest.”

  Slowly, carefully, she lowered the hand until just her fingertips touched the blankets over his skin. She could still feel his heat as she pressed down, flattening her palm on his chest. “I’m only doing this because you said it would make you feel better.” She leaned toward him. “I’m sorry you were hurt today. It’s my fault. If I’d chosen a better man to marry then—”

  His muscles tightened under her hand. “Don’t you worry, Angel. And don’t be sorry because this isn’t your fault. But Ralston… If I get out of this bed, he’ll rue the day he was born.” Then he gave a halfhearted chuckle. “Though I think Max said something similar this morning and he’s a determined bugger. Might beat me to it.”

  “Max told you about Michael, did he?” Camille stared out the window not actually seeing anything in the dark night. Shame and regret made her shoulders hunch.

  “He said enough for me to know that the man deserves a good, solid beating.”

  She nibbled on her lip as she spread her fingers out. They itched to push the blankets back and feel his skin. “Have you ever made a mistake so big that it rippled like waves touching everyone you loved?”

  * * *

  He twitched at the words and pain radiated through his side. Rex knew that she didn’t mean him when she referred to everyone she loved. She didn’t love him, but he pretended for just a moment that she did. That she counted him amongst her nearest and dearest people. That she worried about his life and that was why she held a vigil next to his bed.

  Rex was the only son of a lawyer, who had been the third son of a marquess. His grandfather had been a hard man, or so he’d been told, who’d ruled his family with an iron fist. Rex’s father had left, married his mother, and never returned. But his mother had died in childbirth and his father had departed this world when Rex was only five.

  He’d been deposited on the steps of an orphanage the very next day.

  He had a vague memory of one of his uncles coming to the place. He had no idea which brother it was but when he was naughty, the nuns would remind him that even his own uncle hadn’t wanted to keep him. That’s how awful he was.

  He knew that, like his entire family, Camille didn’t actually love him. No one ever did and with all likelihood, no one ever would. “Is Ralston the mistake that you speak of?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “What he did, what I chose to do about it, has torn my family apart.”

  He squeezed her hip tighter. Damn this woman felt good. Like she had been molded to fit his grip perfectly. “Lay your head down and keep me warm, Angel.”

  “I shouldn’t…I can’t.” She shook her head and another piece of her golden hair fell from her coif.

  He pulled her hip, leaning her down toward him. It hurt like hell, but it was completely worth it. “I’ve got a wound to the gut. I wouldn’t be able to harm a hair on that gorgeous head. And besides…” He already knew the argument most likely to work. “It will help me to feel better.”

  He heard her intake of breath. “Will it really help?”

  “Yes, it will.” Then he tugged again. This time she allowed her chest to press to his as her head settled in the hollow of his neck. He scrunched his brow attempting to decide if he’d continue to hold her perfect hip or roam his hand up the curve of her back. Maybe he had died. Touching her was heaven.

  “Now, about tearing your family apart,” he said as he caressed her back to settle her closer. His side twinged again but he ignored it. “That is Ralston’s fault. He has made an actual living out of swindling men and women. How could you have combatted that? You were likely another job to him.”

  She lifted her head to look up at him. “Do you know him?”

  He initially wanted to protest, he’d been enjoying her heat, the feel of her weight on him, but as those green eyes met his, with her lips so close, he held his complaint back. He might be able to stare at her like this forever.

  “No, I’d never met him before today. But I’ve heard the stories. I saw the debt collectors who were also chasing him. I hope they didn’t get to him.”

  “Why not?” She straightened away, a frown creating a crease between her eyes.

  He moved his hand between her shoulder blades, allowing the weight of his arm to cause her to settle back into him. “I already told you. I’m going to make him pay myself.”

  “For shooting you?”

  He gave a nod. But the gesture was a lie. He cared little for his own life. This wasn’t even the first time he’d taken a bullet. But that man had stolen an angel’s wings. Some how, some way, he’d get them back. “Something like that.”

  She lay her head down again, her weight making his breath push out of his lungs. “I wish I were a man, sometimes. Then I could go up to him and I could—”

  “What?” The tiniest grin pulled at the corner of his lips. She had a little devil in her too, which only added to her appeal.

  She tensed against him, her body tightening, and lifted her head once more. “You think I’m silly?”

  “Not at all. I just want to know what you would do.” He would say anything to keep her talking. She was so close and her scent of vanilla wrapped about him in the most delicious way.

  “I would,” she paused, her brows scrunching together. “I’d like to punch him right in the nose.”

  He chuckled. “That’s the
spirit.”

  She laughed too and then her face grew more serious, her eyes holding his. “What will you do if you get him before the debtors?”

  “First,” he wiggled his brows, “I’ll punch him in the nose for you.”

  Her eyes grew larger before a beautiful smile graced her lips. “Thank you,” she said and then, bloody hell, she leaned toward him, softly placing her lips on his. His lower half was radiating with waves of pain, so he shouldn’t have enjoyed the kiss. But the moment she kissed him, the entire world ceased to exist, even his pain melted away, leaving nothing but a raw hunger deep in his loins.

  Chapter Four

  Camille pulled away again, staring at the man she’d just kissed. What had she been thinking?

  She hadn’t, that was the answer. Rex was a known rake and she had been warned to stay away. Even bedridden and sporting a serious injury he had talked her into his bed and now she was kissing him.

  That was her problem. She didn’t see rakish behavior for what it was. She was too sympathetic, too quick to try and solve another’s problems. As she rushed in to rescue, the trap sprung.

  Hadn’t that been the case with Michael?

  To further prove the undoubted truth, here she was again. Kissing a rake all because he’d made a few pretty promises about knocking about the first rake who had fooled her.

  She started to sit up because his proximity made her mind a jumbled mess that refused to work properly, but his hand pressed her down again even as his lips captured hers. She drew in her breath, consequently breathing him in. He smelled of leather, and gunpowder, and something manly and rough that made her heartbeat quicken. As he slanted open her mouth, he touched his tongue to hers.

  Her fingers dug into his collarbone as she pressed closer, allowing him to fully plunder her mouth. That’s what he was. A devilish pirate intent upon stealing every last drop of her treasure. The funny thing was that she wanted to give it to him.