Petals in the Storm

"WHAT WOULD YOU BE LIKE IN PRIVATE?"

"There won't be any 'private,' " she said crisply. "This is strictly a business arrangement."

"If you think this is only business, you're a fool, and that I can't believe," he said dryly. "Like it or not, you're going to have to deal with the fact that there is this between us." He stepped forward and smoothly drew her into his arms.

Turbulent feelings surged through her when their lips met—an instinctive desire to run for her life, a deeper instinct to melt into his arms.

And in the back of her mind, a cool, rational voice said that Rafe was right; if they were going to convince people they were lovers, they must seem comfortable with each other. That wouldn't be possible if she jumped like a frightened rabbit every time he touched her.

It was all the excuse she needed to kiss him back. She slid her arms around his neck and pressed close. In spite of the years that had passed, the warmth and strength of his hard body were hauntingly familiar. But then she had been an innocent. Now they were both adults experienced in the ways of passion, and desire crackled like heat lightning.

Dear Reader,

Six years ago, I innocently set out to write my fourth Regency romance, and was startled to come out of my writer's haze at the end to find that the story had the length, complex characters, adventurous plot, and emotional intensity of a historical romance. However, a contract is a contract, so I cut fifty pages and my tolerant editor published Rafe and Maggie's story as a
very
long Regency called
The Controversial Countess
. Though the book did well, ever since then I have hoped that someday it could be redone as a true historical romance.

That "someday" came when I conceived the idea for my Fallen Angels series about a group of Regency rakes. They were exactly the sorts of dashing fellows who would be friends of Rafael Whitbourne, so I happily rewrote and expanded his story into
Petals in the Storm
, the second book of the Fallen Angels series that started with
Thunder and Roses
.

Like all of my books, it's a tale of passionate people, high adventure, and the healing power of love. When a man who prides himself on cool control meets the one woman who can effortlessly shatter his defenses—when a strong woman who has lived on the edge of danger and despair meets the man she has never stopped loving— sparks will fly, and lives will change.

It was a joy to revisit Rafe and Maggie and give free rein to their intense, sensual relationship. It was also great fun to integrate the story into the Fallen Angels framework. Lucien's book,
Dancing on the Wind
, will be next, followed by Michael's. After that? Well, Rafe and Maggie's story generated a spin-off featuring one of my all-time favorite heroes, and that will also be rewritten as a historical romance. And I think that Michael has another friend from his army days....

Happy reading! I hope you enjoy my stories as much as I enjoy writing them.

Mary Jo Putney

Petals in the

Storm

by

Mary Jo Putney

A TOPAZ BOOK

TOPAZ

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Books USA Inc.,

New York
,
New York
10014
,
U.S.A.

Penguin Books Ltd,

London
W8 5TZ
,
England

Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood,

Victoria
,
Australia

Penguin Books Canada Ltd,

Toronto
,
Ontario
,
Canada
M4V 3B

Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd,

Auckland
10,
New Zealand

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth,
Middlesex
,
England

First published by Topaz, an imprint of Dutton Signet, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc. Previously published in a substantially different form by Signet, under the title
The Controversial Countess
.

First Printing, December,1993 10 987654321

Copyright © Mary Jo Putney,1989

All rights reserved

Topaz Man photo © Charles WilliamBush

Topaz is a trademark of Dutton Signet, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc.

Printed in the
United States of America

To Nic, who may well be

the only professor of economics in
America

who reads and enjoys my books

Of the numerous books consulted for the background of this story, the author wishes particularly to acknowledge
Wellington: Pillar of State
, by Elizabeth Longford,
The Foreign Policy of Castlereagh, 1812-1815
, by Sir Charles Webster, and
The Reminiscences and Recollections of Captain Gronow
(Viking Press edition, 1964).

"What the devil is going on here?"

It was the battle cry of an angry husband; Rafe would have recognized it anywhere. He sighed. Apparently there was going to be an untidy emotional scene of the sort he most loathed. Releasing the delightful lady in his arms, he turned to face the man who had just stormed into the drawing room.

The newcomer was about Rafe's height and of similar age, somewhere in his mid-thirties. Though he probably would have looked pleasant under other circumstances, at the moment he seemed ready to commit murder.

Lady Jocelyn Kendal cried, "David!" and stepped forward with pleasure, then stopped dead at the expression on her husband's face. Tension throbbed between hem like a drum.

The silence was broken when the newcomer said in low, furious voice, "It's obvious that my arrival is both unexpected and unwelcome. I assume this is the Duke of Candover? Or are you spreading your favors more widely?"

As Lady Jocelyn rocked with the impact of the words, Rafe said coolly, "I'm Candover. I'm afraid that you have the advantage of me, sir." Visibly wrestling with the urge to throw his wife's guest out, the other man snapped, "I am Presteyne, husband of this lady here, though not for long." His hard gaze returned to Lady Jocelyn. "My apologies for interrupting your amusements. I'll collect my belongings and never trouble you again."

Then Presteyne left with a wall-rattling slam of the door. Rafe was glad to see the back of him; though an expert in all forms of gentlemanly sport, brawling with a furious husband of military bearing was not high on Rafe's list of pleasures.

Unfortunately the scene was not yet over, for Lady Jocelyn folded onto a satin chair and began to weep. Rafe regarded her with exasperation. He preferred to conduct his affairs lightly, with mutual pleasure and no recriminations, and would never have touched Lady Jocelyn if she hadn't told him that her marriage was in name only. Clearly the lady had lied. He remarked, "Your husband doesn't seem to share your belief that the marriage is one of convenience."

She lifted her head and regarded Rafe blankly, as if she had forgotten that he was there.

Irritated, he asked, "What kind of game are you playing? Your husband doesn't seem the sort of man to be manipulated with jealousy. He may leave you, or he may wring your neck, but he won't play that kind of lover's game."

"I wasn't playing a game," she said unevenly. "I was trying to discover what was in my heart. Only now do I know how I feel about David, when it is too late."

Rafe's irritation faded in the face of her youth and vulnerability. He had once been equally young and confused, and the sight of her misery was a vivid reminder of how disastrous love could be. "I'm beginning to suspect that under your highly polished surface beats a romantic heart," he said dryly. "If that's true, go after your husband and throw your charming self at his feet with abject apologies. You should be able to bring him around, at least this once. A man will forgive the woman he loves a great deal. Just don't let him find you in anyone else's arms. I doubt he would forgive you a second time."

Her eyes widened. Then, in a voice on the edge of hysterical laughter, she said, "Your sang-froid is legendary, but even so, the reports do you less than justice. If the devil himself walked in, I think you would ask him if he played whist."

"Never play whist with the devil, my dear. He cheats." Rafe lifted her icy hand and gave it a light farewell kiss. "Should your husband resist your blandishments, feel free to let me know if you want a pleasant, uncomplicated affair." He released her hand. "You'll never get more than that from me, you know. Many years ago I gave my heart away to someone who dropped and broke it, so I have none left."

It was a good exit line, yet as he looked into the girl's lovely face, he found himself saying, "You remind me of a woman I once knew, but not enough. Never enough."

Then he turned and walked away, out of the house and down the steps into the civilized confines of

The part of him that laughed at his own vanities found mocking amusement in how well "The Duke" had carried off the scene. The Duke was Rafe's private lame for the public image he had spent a dozen years rafting and polishing. As The Duke, he was the perfect, imperturbable English gentleman, and no one played the role better than Rafe.

Everyone needed a hobby.

Yet as he turned the corner into

He pulled the curricle up in front of his