From Lies Page 5

  Rafe shook his head, looking around to see if he couldn't spot his mother. Hopefully she wouldn't have heard such a rumor. It might derail his plans. "We haven't had a chance to write up a marriage contract."

  "Marriage contract?" His partner's brow furrowed. "Why would you want one of those?"

  Nerves began to tingle beneath his skin, instinct warning him from speaking, but he felt silence would somehow damn him. "It is because I am newly the head of our family, and I fear our mother would not approve, so a marriage contract would have more sway in the present environment than words between gentlemen."

  "Ah." His partner nodded his head. "I understand. If you are in need of assistance, please ask."

  "Are you a lawyer?" Rafe hadn't thought of that, though it might explain the apparent self-import the man placed on himself.

  His partner chuckled as he twirled Rafe into a complicated series of steps. "Something like that."

  Rafe didn't understand, but he needed to concentrate on his footwork and not what the man before him meant. He could decide on the meaning of the words later. Maybe when he was back home in bed and sleep eluded him. As the song ended, Rafe made to pull away, but his partner held him fast, giving him a cheeky grin as he led him into the next dance.

  "Now, I've been curious."

  Rafe lifted an eyebrow, waiting for more. "Yes?"

  "Why is it that someone as beautiful as you doesn't have men and women throwing themselves at your feet?"

  He was pulled in close as they swirled past a slow moving couple. After the steps slowed, his partner continued to stare, waiting for an answer. Only, Rafe didn't know what to say. He shrugged his shoulders.

  "Come on, there must be a reason. Do you snore?"

  Rafe chuckled. "I wouldn't know. No one has shared my room since I was a small boy."

  "Are you a night walker?" his partner teased.

  Rafe thought about it. He guessed he could be called such. "Sometimes."

  "Well," his partner huffed, "there must be something."

  With a shake of his head, Rafe turned the tables, taking over the lead of the dance as he took his partner through a series of steps that drew them apart and pulled them together.

  "It can't be your dancing. That's superb."

  "Maybe it's because I'm not a nice man," Rafe quipped, regretting it as soon as the words left his mouth.

  "How so?"

  No words would form, and he couldn't look the man before him in the eyes. They slowed, moving to the edge of the floor even though Rafe just wanted to go back to the center, to the playful banter from before.

  "How so?" The words were soft, a torture so exquisite as they promised to release Rafe from his years of burden.

  How could he resist?

  "I manipulate others. I lie. I hide myself so no one can see." He couldn't look up, could only move to the slow pace they'd set themselves. Rafe wanted to pull away, but he found himself lacking the strength to do so.

  "As you manipulated Lord Shaften and your sister? I believe that's more a kindness for both of them than a strike against your character."

  Bitter laughter bubbled past Rafe's lips before he could seal the sound away. "I've manipulated those around me since I was seven. I've lied in the process so no one can uncover what I've done." He looked up then, for some reason wanting this man, this fantasy turned reality, to believe him. "I built a business for myself before I was legally old enough, spinning lies so no one could find my true age. I manipulated those in my own house to believe me a frivolous idiot who abused someone precious so I could remain unscathed and so they would have an easier time moving through the day-to-day chores thrust upon them by a cruel twist of fate. I've maneuvered my sister toward a man so she will be out of the clutches of our mother. I have changed the strings of fate to protect myself. All I've done has been to protect me, because the people I hold dear are my weakness, and I can't have a weakness."

  He pulled back, finding the strength to release himself from the man who'd let him unburden himself, but he couldn't stay. He turned away from the man who'd somehow, with a few simple words, allowed Rafe a moment to admit who he was. A few steps were all he could take before he saw her.

  On the stairs, in a flowing gown that was several light shades of blue, stood Greta, a dark blue mask poised on her face. She looked beautiful, her lightly bronzed color complemented by the blue and the diamonds she wore. Rafe heard several people around him gasp at the sight of Greta, and when he turned, he saw his fantasy staring at her, enchanted by the image she presented. And who wouldn't be? A part of himself crumbled, and he wanted to laugh bitter tears as he realized where he'd met the man. It had been with Mr. Monel, when he'd brought the prince and marquess.

  He'd been dancing with the prince, and he hadn't known it. Rafe looked back at Greta. Yes, the prince would do right by her. He knew it.

  So why did he feel so bitter?

  Chapter Six

  It was a gorgeous day for a wedding, Rafe had to give it to Raquel. Once the marriage contract had been signed the day after the royal ball, his sister had celebrated. Congratulating him. He'd been so proud of his sister, of himself. And he'd gone home, given the deed to the house to Greta along with her father's money, and had the local guards evict his mother. It had hurt, listening to the words she'd thrown at him, but he'd stared at her, cold and indifferent, until she'd gone. Then he'd turned to Greta, asked that she give Raquel and himself time to remove their belongs, bowed, and left. Her fate was in her own hands now, as it should have been from the beginning.

  The house he'd hoped to buy was in his name by the end of that same day, and his sister's dowry settled in an account for after the marriage. He hadn't had enough money to do much else, though he'd had some in case an emergency cropped up, such as the need for a cart so he could haul his belongs to his new home, storing Raquel's on the lower floors until after her wedding. The cart had also been used to move Jaq and his family into Rafe's home. They'd had a long talk, Rafe, Jaq, and Jaq's mother, and Rafe had taken Jaq's mother aside to let her know what he had done in the past. She, Venda bless her, had held his hand and told him he was a good boy. It had healed a part of himself Rafe had long given up hope of ever fixing. Soon after, word of what he had done to his mother spread quickly, and no one knew what to do.

  Greta, bless her, did. She'd gone around making sure everyone knew what he'd done for her over the years, and soon enough, Duncan had stepped forward, having his daughter, who'd recently returned from abroad, translate his handwriting. Surprisingly enough, the stable master and gardener told everyone of how Rafe had treated the plants and animals, only going near them when he thought no one was around which was, apparently, a clear indication that he'd been playing a part to keep everyone safe.

  Rafe had felt ashamed at all the praise because he didn't deserve it. He'd harmed an innocent woman for most of her life, lied to everyone around him, and destroyed his mother. No, he didn't deserve their praise.

  Which was why he'd decided that after his sister was happily married, he'd leave. Take one of his ships and just sail. See more of the world, meet the people who've never met him, who wouldn't know how cruel he could be. Maybe, while out on the sea, he'd change himself. Find himself. He didn't think he could do that here. Not with everything he'd done and everything he hadn't done chewing at the edges of his mind. He knew the sea was only a temporary escape, that he couldn't run from himself, but he needed a little peace.

  He smiled as he saw Greta arrive. None of them had been sure if she'd want to appear, not after all that had happened and not after her time at the ball, where everyone said she spent the evening with the prince.

  She spotted him before he could duck away, offer assistance somewhere, and her bright smile hurt as she made her way through the small crowd to his side, flinging her arms around his neck and holding him close. "Rafe. Brother."

  He held her close, then gently pushed her away. A throat cleared, and Rafe glanced over her shoulder, trying
to figure out where the prince was.

  "Ah." Greta giggled, taking one of the man's hands. "Brother, I'd like you to meet Marquess Olto Denath."

  This… was not what he had expected. "Marquess? I thought…" The words wouldn't leave his throat. This wasn't the man he'd danced with. This was not the prince.

  She giggled again, light and airy, a sound he couldn't remember hearing after her father had passed. "You thought I was with the prince? It seems these two," she nudged the marquess, "are confused for each other by people who haven't been introduced to them before. I danced with the prince, but only one dance. Then I was swept off my feet by this rogue."

  Olto looked slightly abashed. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

  "The pleasure's mine." Rafe bowed, still a bit confused at the turn of events and why his heart felt lighter for the first time in far too long.

  "Oh, don't do that," Greta tsked, dragging him from his bow and wrapping her arms around him for a brief squeeze. "We're family."

  Confusion seemed to be his perpetual state now, until Greta wiggled her fingers in front of her face, then terror swamped through him.

  "But… you've only just met!" It was all too strange. The matter was not helped by a loud squeal behind him as his sister tried to sneak up on him.

  "Is that what I think it is?" Raquel asked as she shoved past Rafe and took Greta's hand in her own.

  Greta nodded her head, giggling as she beamed at them. "I didn't want to ruin your big day, but I couldn't keep it in."

  Raquel waved her hand as if to dismiss the words. "None of that. As you said, we are family." Then Raquel looked at her, her face serious. "We are family?"

  Tears welled in Greta's eyes, and Rafe was half-tempted to turn away, but this was his… family, no matter how unconventional it all was. "Yes," Greta whispered as she pulled Raquel close. "We're family."

  Someone needed to stop them before they got started, and Olto didn't look any more comfortable than Rafe. "All right, that's enough of that. Don't want the bride to be crying before she sees her groom."

  Raquel turned to him with a laugh, gently thumping her fist against his arm. "Trust you to ruin the moment."

  Rafe shrugged his shoulders and gave them both a sheepish grin. "I couldn't stand the thought of you both crying." He cast a sidelong glance at Olto. "And I don't think I was the only one."

  "Don't bring me into this." Olto held his hands up in surrender of a confrontation that would never occur, because at that moment, Raquel gasped, grabbed Greta and Olto by their hands, and dragged them away.

  "What the…" Rafe looked to where his sister's gaze had last been and felt his senses leave him.

  Strolling toward him in royal finery was the prince. The man with his dark hair fixed as close as it could be in the current fashion, well-fitting clothes that showed off all his lean muscle, and the light tan that was said to come from his mother's side, all made Rafe weak in his spine. And those dark as night eyes didn't help any of Rafe's nerves, not when their focus was solely on him and none of the court or common folk who tried to flock around him.

  Rafe's instinct to run was overcome by his instinct to see how this would go. He was planning on leaving, yet he deserved to know what his deceptions meant to the prince. Though why a single man's opinion, no matter the station he held, should matter, Rafe would not admit to himself. He would be leaving soon. He had decided.

  All those decisions flew from his mind as soon as the prince took his hand, pulled it up, and bent at the waist to leave a lingering kiss that scorched through Rafe, leaving him burnt out and raw. Everything felt magnified: his breath stretched his skin to an exquisitely torturous degree; his sight was sharper, taking in the curve of the prince's eyelashes as he looked up at him through their length; his breath shallower as he inhaled the air, swearing he could taste the prince's cologne. And he called himself every kind of fool for being so affected. He knew what it was sending his nerves tingling, knew why his sister had dashed away like a young schoolgirl playing matchmaker.

  He was falling for the prince, and he was letting himself.

  Rafe pulled his hand away and bowed low, shame staining his cheeks at the rumors he already knew were beginning to circulate. "It's an honor to have the prince attend my sister's wedding."

  "Please," the prince whispered, a long, calloused finger tucking under Rafe's chin, "call me by my name. And do not bow to me. Rise."

  Rafe looked up at the prince—at Trint—and rose, compelled to, if for no other reason than there was a slight pressure from that lone finger. Sadness filtered from that touch and the small downturn of Trint's lips. Rafe didn't want to be the cause of that look, didn't want to bring the man before him, the one who Rafe knew had been in his dream so many months ago and shadowed his waking world, any pain. He reached up, hesitant, and took that finger in his hand. Slowly, so slowly he thought the world might just leave him, he slipped his fingers in between Trint's own, intertwining them before so many people.

  That stray thought had Rafe jerking back, but Trint wouldn't let him go, and there was warmth in that gaze when Rafe dragged his own from their hands. An answering warmth filled Rafe, and he felt a small, hopeful smile stretch his face.

  "Captain."

  Rafe winced at the title. He'd told his men he wouldn't be the captain of any of the ships, merely a passenger. But some of the men wouldn't hear of it, claiming he'd saved them from lives turning toward desperate, to the point that several of them were a step away from committing crimes.

  He pulled back then, embarrassed and flustered, as he turned toward one of his captains. "Yes?" They knew where he was, but they were supposed to handle the day without him. It was his sister's wedding.

  "The wedding gift." His captain held out a wrapped box.

  Rafe could have smacked himself for not remembering it. He gingerly took the box, cradling it close as he smiled at the captain. "Thank you." He laughed. "I'd be skinned alive if this had been forgotten."

  The man smiled at him, winking in understanding. "I'll see you tomorrow, Captain, to go over the details of the trip bright and early."

  Rafe nodded, tension filling him as he waited for his captain to disappear from the garden then turned back to Trint. "Can't believe I forgot it," he said as he lifted the box, trying to break the silence that had descended.

  "What trip?" Trint stepped in close, crowding Rafe against a wall.

  "Uh…" He swallowed, looking at all the people who were pretending not to notice them. Even his sisters and Olto were peeking at them from across the garden. "Can we go somewhere more private?" Though he didn't know why they needed somewhere private. It was his business what he did, not Trint's.

  Greta appeared suddenly, taking the box from his hands with a wink and sauntering off to deposit the box with the other gifts. With no defense or stalling tactic, Rafe lead Trint out of the room and through the house he'd visited so many times before with Raquel. He took them up a floor to a guest bedroom. It was probably a vain hope that no one would follow them, but at least most of them would think twice before going to the second floor.

  Rafe held the door open for Trint and waited for him to pass before following, snakes squirming through his stomach. He didn't know what Trint would do, and that scared him—a lot more than he wanted to admit.

  "A trip?" Trint raised an eyebrow as he leaned against one of the bed posts, his stance stiff, arms crossed over his chest.

  "Probably more of a voyage than trip, but, yes, I believe they are similar enough." He leaned against the closed door, attempting to mimic Trint, but there was no chance of him affecting the same manner of cold indifference. It stung, but Rafe wouldn't let it get under his skin.

  "Why?"

  Rafe blinked. "Why what? Why am I going on a voyage?"

  Trint uncoiled from his casual stance, stalking across the small space to invade Rafe's area of comfort; it made Rafe want to open the door and run screaming. "Why are you leaving now?"

  A snort escaped befo
re he could suppress it. He looked away, ashamed. "Because of what I've done." He wouldn't fill the awkward silence with details, not when everyone had to know the twisting story about him. It didn't matter what Greta, or anyone else for that matter, said in his defense. He wasn't a nice person, and most seemed to realize that.

  "And what," Trint growled as his hands bracketed each side of Rafe's head, "have you done?"

  His breath stuttered in his chest as Trint's every exhale of air caressed his cheek. Rafe couldn't answer, and then Trint, oh so gently, cradled his jaw and turned his face so they were almost nose-to-nose.

  "Why does it matter?" he choked out. Pain and hope filling him so full he thought he'd burst from it, an explosion of emotions splattered across the fancy green rugs that covered the wood floors. What a mess his sister's wedding would be then.

  Trint tilted his head, leaning in close. "Because you intrigue me. Ever since you turned my business offer away I've been interested in learning about you, Rafe Cinderston."

  Anger roared through him. "Don't call me that." It came out harsher than he'd meant, but that name held nothing but pain for Rafe.

  Without missing a beat, Trint asked, "What would you have me call you? Beautiful?"

  Rafe snorted, trying to turn away as his eyes misted, but Trint wouldn't let him.

  "Precious?"

  "That's ridiculous," Rafe mumbled, trying not to be enchanted by those dark eyes that poured themselves into him, pushing warmth into every nook and cranny that had been long neglected.

  "Mine?"

  Rafe gasped, and Trint's lips met his own. A chaste kiss, but it did such wonderful, unfamiliar things to Rafe, twisting him up inside, and he melted, unable to bear the loneliness that had been his constant companion for so long.

  It lasted for a shallow heartbeat and a full day, then ended, as all good moments do.

  Rafe looked at Trint, really looked at him, and saw a man with loneliness of his own, calling out to Rafe's, and he wondered if they could have something, built up from loneliness? Would they sustain it?