Taming Rafe by Suzanne Enoch

precise stop beside her. A tall, dark-haired gentleman of impeccable dress smiled at her as he hopped down from the carriage.
    “Felicity, I’m so sorry to have missed our meeting,” Lord Deerhurst said a little breathlessly, doffing his beaver hat and taking her hand.
    She smiled back at him. “The only thing we discussed was an atlas.”
    He brushed her knuckles with his lips and then released her fingers. “Then I shan’t chastise myself for being so late.”
    “ You’re Squire Talford?”
    Felicity jumped again as Rafe’s deep voice came from right behind her. Reflexively she turned to look up at him—and was completely unpreparedfor the rushing tingle of electricity that ran down her arms. Rafe had pulled his shirt back on, but it hung loose and untucked down to his thighs. Damp blond hair clung to his forehead and his neck. He was simply…beautiful. She’d seen handsome men before—Lord Deerhurst, for one—but none had ever caused her to tremble merely by their nearness. Swiftly she clasped her hands together before she could do something as absurd as flinging herself upon him.
    “No, I’m not Talford. I am James Burlough, the Earl of Deerhurst.” The earl’s pleasant smile capsized into not-quite-polite puzzlement. “And who might you be, sir?”
    Felicity blinked and looked at her neighbor. “Oh. Forgive me. My lord, this is Rafael Bancroft. An…” She looked at Rafe again, sidetracked as she wondered if his lips would taste salty with sweat. “Ah, an old, ah…family friend.”
    The earl frowned, though he offered his hand to her stable guest. “That’s odd. I’ve never heard Felicity or Nigel speak of you.”
    Rafe delayed a moment before he stripped off one of his heavy work gloves to return the handshake. “Never heard of you, either.”
    The earl hadn’t removed his driving glove, and somehow—even though she couldn’t quite determine why—that seemed significant. And it spoke in Rafe’s favor as a gentleman, if not as a nobleman. “Well,” she began, “we haven’t—”
    May opened the kitchen door. “Rafe, it’s too heavy!” she called.
    Her stable guest nodded curtly at the earl. “Deerhurst.” His sea-green eyes turned to Felicity as he pulled off the other glove and tossed the pair of them into the back of Greetham’s wagon. “Lis.” Then he strolled away and walked into the kitchenjust like—well, just like he owned the place.
    The use of her nickname startled her, and a soft blush crept up her cheeks. When she turned back to Deerhurst he was looking at her, his own expression distinctly disapproving.
    “Who is this…Bancroft?” he asked, wiping his gloved hand against his trouser leg.
    “I told you who he is,” Felicity answered. Dash it, defending her decision to take Rafe in was becoming a damned nuisance. She wished everyone would just mind their own business—at least until the roof was repaired. “An old friend of Nigel’s.”
    “He isn’t staying here, is he?”
    “Was there something you wanted, James?”
    His face reddening, he sputtered for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Of course I would never question your good sense, but you know I worry about your being here all alone.”
    Declining to inform him that May had turned out to be quite an efficient bodyguard, Felicity put a hand on his arm. “I know, and I appreciate your concern. But it’s really not necessary, my lord. Truly.”
    “Even so, I would feel so much better if you would—that is, if you and May would stay at Deerhurst until Nigel’s return.”
    Everyone seemed to want her to abandon Forton, as though having Nigel present made any real difference whatsoever. “That isn’t necessary, either.”
    “At least let me help pay for some of the repairs to dear old Forton Hall.”
    Her eyes narrowed at the second mention of charity that day. “Very kind of you to offer, but again, unnecessary, James. As you can see,” and she gestured at Dennis Greetham high up on the roof,