Taming Rafe Read Online Free Page A

pretty rose garden.
    “Good God,” he muttered, leading Aristotle gingerly through the maze of destruction spilling out onto the overgrown lawn. In Belgium he’d helped bring down fortifications, and Forton Hall looked just like a place hit by cannon and a keg or two of blasting powder.
    He dropped the gelding’s reins, and with a handmotion ordered Aristotle to stay put. Broken glass crunched beneath his boots as he made his way up through the tattered vines covering the shallow front steps. Only one of the double doors remained on its bronzed hinges, while someone had hammered the other door into position with a pair of awkwardly placed cross supports. The door scraped across the floor and gave an earsplitting squeak as he pushed it cautiously open. He stepped inside, and a small flock of sparrows chirruped at him and flew through a jagged hole that had once been the beginning of the west wing.
    The stairs winding up to the east wing’s second story were intact, though he was unwilling to vouch for their sturdiness with half the building gone. At least the walls and most of the roof of the other wing remained.
    Apparently Nigel Harrington hadn’t been the biggest idiot playing faro that night. No one in his right mind would ever purchase such a spectacular wreck. And taxes on the land and the broken windows and whatever pitiful crops remained would still be due.
    Swearing at Harrington, himself, and everyone else who hadn’t won that last hand of faro, Rafe kicked the remains of a chair into a corner. The best he could hope for was that Harrington had left behind enough valuables to pay off any debts already owing, so he could declare the place abandoned and walk away. Five hundred pounds had seemed a wealth of ready cash when he only needed it for the time it took to sell the estate. Now it was all he had.
    “Won’t Father be amused,” he muttered, entering the dining room. A mishmash of clutter covered the table and the chairs, and lay stacked in every corner. Angrily he shoved the table aside andpushed on the door that would lead to the first floor sitting rooms. It wasn’t locked, but something held it closed from the other side. He put his shoulder against the door and shoved harder. It didn’t budge.
    “Wonderful. Bloody, bloody wonderful. I’ve won a blasted rat’s nest,” he snarled, backing a few steps and running at the door. “Ouch! Blast.” Rafe rubbed at his shoulder and glared at the barrier for a long moment.
    “Don’t you want this?” a muffled voice said.
    The sound came through the half-open door leading back into the hallway. Not only did he not have a saleable estate, now he had thieves scavenging what little remained of it.
    “Not for long,” he murmured, and slipped out into the hallway.
    Whoever they were, they weren’t attempting stealth. Undoubtedly they thought the owner had abandoned the estate. A grim smile curved his lips. They were about to find out differently. Someone deserved a beating for this disaster.
     
    Felicity Harrington set down the armful of gowns she’d salvaged from the collapsed remains of her bedchamber. It had rained again yesterday, and everything was damp. Thankfully, hanging them in the kitchen around the stove seemed to be drying them out and keeping them from getting musty. Before much longer, though, both her and May’s things would be hopelessly mildewed.
    “What should we do about Nigel’s things?” May asked, as she set shoes down to dry around the stove.
    “They come last,” Felicity stated, putting a finger through a hole in her favorite morning dress. “If ever.”
    May chuckled. “He won’t be very happy when he sees all his clothes turned green.”
    Felicity smiled. “Green and fuzzy.”
    “Green and fuzzy and smelly .”
    The door slammed open. With a gasp, Felicity whipped around just as something tall, hard, and heavy hit her, throwing them both to the floor. She shrieked.
    “Damnation!” the brick wall on top of her