A Daring Passion. Rosemary Rogers

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СКАЧАТЬ of a rare pearl and her dark eyes faintly slanted and surrounded by a lush thicket of lashes that lent an air of smoldering mystery. Her nose was a tiny, straight line that contrasted with the full bow of her mouth. And just beside that lovely mouth was a tiny black mole that seemed deliberately placed to provoke a man’s attention.

      At the moment her sweet face was still flushed from sleep and her heavy amber curls were pulled into a simple braid that hung nearly to her waist. With her slender body modestly covered by her threadbare robe she should have appeared a dowdy child. Instead she was as radiant and fresh as an angel.

      Josiah gave a rueful shake of his head. When Raine had been but twelve years of age it had nearly broken his heart to fulfill his late wife’s desire to have her daughter schooled at the same convent that she had attended as a child. To have Raine so far from him seemed an unbearable sacrifice.

      But he couldn’t deny a small, sensible part of him had been relieved to whisk her from the neighborhood.

      Even then she had shown the promise of great beauty, and Josiah had been deeply aware that all too soon the lecherous gazes of the various noblemen would be turning in her direction. They would consider such a delectable morsel within such easy reach an irresistible temptation, and would have spared no expense or effort to lure her into their bed.

      No, it had been for the best that she had been locked away from the world’s dangers.

      Of course, now that she had returned he could not deny that the old troubles had merely shifted to new troubles.

      She might have acquired the sort of mature sophistication that would allow her to resist being seduced, but she possessed no connections, no dowry to tempt a nobleman into considering her in a more permanent role. And just as bothersome, her newfound elegance ensured that she no longer mixed easily with the local farmers and merchants.

      She had no ready place among the community, and no mother or sisters to provide her companionship.

      Heaving a rueful sigh, Josiah held out his hand.

      “Well, well. I suppose it was too much to be hoped such commotion would not arouse you, pet. You might as well come in.”

      Her finely arched brows drew together as she moved toward his chair.

      “You have been injured.”

      “That seems to be the universal agreement,” he said, turning his head to regard the silent servant. “Foster, pour me a brandy and then tend to my horse.”

      “Thank the Lord,” the man muttered as he readily moved to pull a bottle of brandy and a glass from the nearby cabinet. Leaving them on the table, he turned for the door.

      “Foster,” Josiah called softly.

      “Aye?”

      “Make sure there is no evidence from this night’s work. Our stable is bound to receive more than its share of interest over the next few days.”

      Foster gave a slow nod. “The magistrate won’t find so much as a mouse dropping when I am through.”

      “Magistrate?” Raine demanded as Foster slipped through the door and closed it behind him.

      “It’s a long and rather tedious story, I fear.”

      His daughter gave a lift of her brows. “Actually I suspect that it will be quite fascinating.”

      Josiah grimaced. “Fascinating, perhaps, but at the moment I prefer that you fetch a needle and thread and sew your poor father back together again.” His hands tightened on the arms of his chair as he battled a wave of pain. “Unless you intend to stand there and watch me bleed to death?”

      She gazed at him for a long moment, not missing the sweat that lightly coated his strained features before she gave a slow nod of her head.

      “Very well, Father.”

      He breathed a sigh of relief as she readily left the room and returned a short time later with her needle and thread in hand. Unlike Foster she had never been a squeamish sort. Indeed, Raine had always possessed more pluck and backbone than any of the lads in the neighborhood. There was not a tree she wouldn’t climb, a roof she wouldn’t leap from, a lake she wouldn’t attempt to swim across.

      She also possessed the sort of sharp intelligence that was bound to lead to awkward questions.

      The thought had barely passed through his mind when she poured a large shot of brandy directly into the wound and gave a small sound of shock.

      “Dear Lord, this is…this is a bullet wound.”

      Josiah grunted as the brandy seared his wound. “And what would you know of bullet wounds, pet?”

      Moving to stand behind his shoulder, Raine carefully began her surgery.

      “Father, I want to know what happened.”

      “You have always been too curious for your own good. A gentleman’s private doings are not always a fit tale for female ears.”

      She gave a small snort. “Since when have you been so particular in regards to my female sensibilities, sir? My entire childhood was spent surrounded by drunken sailors who entertained me with stories that would make a hardened cad blush. And even you taught me more of how to ride and shoot than how to perfect my maidenly skills.”

      Well, he could hardly argue that. It was true enough that his acquaintances were a rough lot and that too often they treated Raine as if she were a precocious street urchin rather than a well-bred female.

      And he had been far more at ease pretending she was a son. After all, what did a sailor know of raising daughters? They were strange and mysterious creatures that no mere male could ever hope to comprehend.

      “Ah, but you are no longer a child, pet,” he murmured, not without some regret. “Something that even a poor father can no longer deny. You have grown into a beautiful lady. One who should be gracing an elegant ballroom, not rubbing elbows with common seamen in a crumbling cottage.”

      Her smooth stitching never faltered, but Josiah could sense his daughter’s sudden stiffening, as if he had unwittingly struck a nerve.

      “A lovely notion, I suppose. Unfortunately my invitations to those elegant ballrooms seem to always go astray, so until one does arrive I shall remain precisely as I am, a forgotten Cinderella.”

      “Cinderella?”

      “A character from a French fairy tale about a silly girl who longs for pretty gowns and a handsome prince.”

      Josiah hissed a breath between his clenched teeth as the needle slid through his tender skin.

      “What is so silly about wanting such things?”

      There was a moment of silence before Josiah heard his daughter heave a faint sigh.

      “Because they are an impossible dream, and I have enough sense not to waste my time pining for what can never be.”

      This time Josiah felt as if the needle had been aimed directly at his heart. He turned his head to regard Raine with a troubled frown.

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