by Aston, Alexa
To Tame a Rogue
Soldiers & Soulmates
Book 2
Alexa Aston
© Copyright 2020 by Alexa Aston
Text by Alexa Aston
Cover by Wicked Smart Designs
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
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Produced in the United States of America
First Edition February 2020
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
King’s Cousins Series
The Pawn
The Heir
The Bastard
Knights of Honor Series
Word of Honor
Marked by Honor
Code of Honor
Journey to Honor
Heart of Honor
Bold in Honor
Love and Honor
Gift of Honor
Path to Honor
Return to Honor
The St. Clairs Series
Devoted to the Duke
Midnight with the Marquess
Embracing the Earl
Defending the Duke
Suddenly a St. Clair
Soldiers & Soulmates Series
To Heal an Earl
To Tame a Rogue
*** Please visit Dragonblade’s website for a full list of books and authors. Sign up for Dragonblade’s blog for sneak peeks, interviews, and more: ***
www.dragonbladepublishing.com
Amazon
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
Prologue
London—June 1806
Gemma Barton paced restlessly up and down the length of the drawing room. Her aunt sat in a corner, knitting and dozing, oblivious to her niece’s mood. It was almost teatime.
Where was Rob?
She’d sent a note to him hours ago, imploring him to come to her. Perhaps she hadn’t conveyed her desperation enough because he hadn’t shown up yet. She paused and looked out the window, trying to calm herself. Rob wasn’t at her beck and call. She knew how busy he was since he reported for military duty soon. His father, the Earl of Covington, had purchased his younger son a commission upon his graduation from university a month ago. Rob would leave at week’s end for a brief training period and then join Wellesley’s staff as an aide.
Funny, but she’d never pictured her best friend as an army officer. She’d seen him more as a Cambridge don. He was adept at anything academic. He spoke four languages fluently and could get by in three more. Computing complicated mathematical formulas in his head proved easy for him, while Gemma needed paper to add anything in double figures. Rob spouted historical dates and could draw detailed maps of various countries in his sleep. Even though second sons were usually destined for a military career, she’d thought Lord Covington would make an exception and allow Rob to pursue a gentler kind of life, one more suited for his temperament.
Not with England at war, though. Rob confided to Gemma that although he loathed the idea of charging into battle, he was willing to do his part for king and country. She knew, though, that Lord Covington had more than nudged his son into accepting the commission. She only wished it was Richard, the earl’s older son, who left to fight. Richard was lazy and irresponsible and already at five and twenty in more debt than a young man his age should be. He had markers out all over town and gambled far too recklessly. Gemma thought Richard would make a terrible earl and that it should be Rob, the responsible one of the two brothers, who should inherit.
She thought it unfair that a man’s title and estate had to pass to his eldest son. Richard would most likely bankrupt the estate once he became Covington, while Rob would have been a caring landlord who watched over his tenants. Instead, her friend would be stuck in the army for God knew how many years as the fight with Bonaparte raged on.
A maid rolled in the teacart and Aunt Sylvia perked up.
“Oh, I do hope Cook made some of that spice cake again,” she said, greedily eyeing the items on the cart.
As the servant left, their butler stepped into the room and said, “The Honorable Robert Smythe.”
Relief washed through Gemma. “Do send him in at once.”
Moments later, Rob rounded the corner, a ready smile for her. He greeted her aunt first and then Gemma.
Knowing it would arouse her aunt’s suspicions if they took off with tea awaiting, Gemma asked, “Would you like some tea, Rob?”
“Certainly. Especially if it comes with a biscuit or slice of cake. Your cook makes the most marvelously moist cakes. She could definitely show ours a thing or two in the kitchen.”
Gemma poured tea for the three of them and they spent the next half-hour discussing Rob’s leaving at t
he end of the week.
“Training first, for a short while, and then I’ll report to the higher ups.”
He sounded optimistic but she knew how much he dreaded going, leaving behind his treasured books and friends.
“You will be a credit to your country, Mr. Smythe,” Aunt Sylvia proclaimed.
After requesting a second cup of tea from her, Gemma flashed Rob a sign that she needed to speak to him as she poured.
He sipped at it and then said, “I think what I’ll miss most is how green England is. Our parks. The gardens.” He paused and then said, “Would you have time to walk with me now in Hyde Park, Gem? I may not have another opportunity to do so.”
She looked to her aunt, who nodded in agreement and added, “Don’t forget you have the Parkington ball tonight.” Sylvia smiled slyly. “I believe it will be quite the night for you, my dear.”
Her words confirmed Gemma’s worst fears.
She and Rob left the room and she quickly went to her bedchamber. Pinning on her hat, she collected her reticule before joining her friend again in the foyer.
They started toward the park, which was only a few blocks from the Barton townhouse. Gemma tucked her hand through Rob’s arm.
“I came as soon as I could, Gem,” he apologized.
“I know you have many obligations before you leave,” she said. “But I am in need of your advice.”
He grinned. “Has someone asked for your hand? Do I need to give my approval of this husband-to-be?”
It was a logical question, considering Gemma was in her second Season and had just turned twenty. During her come-out, she’d made many friends and had several young men interested in her. None had struck her as someone she wished to spend the rest of her life with, though. Already two months into the current Season, she still hadn’t found anyone who interested her enough.
That’s where the problem began.
Her father, Sir William Barton, was rarely home. He worked at the War Office and spent most of his waking hours there thanks to the threat of Bonaparte. Her father had sat her down two weeks ago and explained that she needed to find a husband to take her off his hands. Sir William claimed he worried that Gemma’s standards were too high. She needed to broaden her outlook and find a husband this Season—or he’d do so for her.
The pressure to wed quickly had made her anxious. Then she’d stumbled across something she was never meant to see.
It changed everything.
She hadn’t meant to snoop. She’d merely gone to her father’s study to leave him a note since it was their chief form of communication with him gone at all hours and her at ton events. That was where she’d seen the letter from Lord Willows on his desk. It caught her attention as she placed her own note down because she caught sight of her name. She read it quickly, horrified that the old codger had offered for her. He was at least seventy-five and rich as Croesus.
But the thought of lying with him made her ill. His gnarled hands stroking her naked flesh. His dry, withered lips against hers. It was enough to cause Gemma to convert to Catholicism and enter a convent. Or shave her head and dress as a man so she could enlist as a soldier. Anything but marry Lord Willows.
“Yes, Rob. Lord Willows wishes to wed me—and I think Father has agreed to the match.”
“What?” He stopped dead in his tracks. “He’s got to be seventy if a day. Possibly eighty. Oh, no, Gemma. You cannot marry such a man.”
“Father recently told me I must wed by the end of this Season. He wants me gone from the house and another man’s responsibility.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t do it. I just can’t. Give me some advice. Tell me what to do.”
Actually, Gemma knew exactly what she wanted. For Rob to marry her.
They started walking again. He remained silent as they entered the park. The fashionable hour to be seen had begun and carriages and strolling couples were everywhere.
Rob led her to a bench and took a seat beside her.
“I would say you could marry me, Gem, but you know why you can’t.”
She knew exactly what he referred to.
“That’s the beauty of it, Rob. You can. We could marry by special license before you leave for the war.”
He frowned. “And what would that get you, Gem? My name alone. I don’t have a farthing beyond what Father bestows upon me. He’s already spent a small fortune purchasing my commission.”
She took his hand and gazed directly into his pale, blue eyes. “Don’t you see, Rob? If I have your name, I have my freedom. Father couldn’t tell me what to do anymore. I wouldn’t have to wed Willows.” She paused. “And when you return? We would be husband and wife—in name only, of course. You could . . . pursue whomever you wished.”
A shadow crossed his handsome face. “I couldn’t do that to you, Gem. What kind of life would that be for you?” He swallowed. “You know I could never be a true husband to you.”
She looked at him with affection. “But I would be wed to my best friend. I would be happy, Rob. I truly would.”
“What about children?”
“There are couples who don’t have children. Either by choice or the inability to do so. We would merely be one of them. It’s not as if you need an heir. You don’t possess a title.”
Gemma saw him wavering and knew in that moment he would rescue her.
“Where would you live?”
“I suppose with your father and Richard. After all, I would be a member of your family. Being a married woman, though, I would no longer need a maid trailing after me everywhere I went. I could accept the social invitations I choose. Enjoy time with my friends. I could read. Work my puzzles and play music. Garden. If I marry you, Rob, I gain my independence. If I don’t, Father will shove me off on Willows.”
“He’s wealthy, Gem,” her friend pointed out. “He’s only got a few years left. If you could stand being wed to him for a short while, you’d end up a very rich widow.”
She frowned at him. “When have I ever cared about money?”
“Never,” he admitted.
“Rob, do this for me. For us. You’ll have your liberty when you come home, as well. We can entertain and attend social outings together and then as most married couples do, simply go our own way when they end. Please. Will you do this for me? For us?”
He squeezed her hand. “All right. I only hope you don’t regret it. So, when do you want me to speak to Sir William?”
“My intuition tells me that Lord Willows will approach me tonight and ask for my hand. Because of that, I think we need to do something spectacular at the ball to prevent that from happening.”
He eyed her warily. “What do you mean?”
She grinned. “I think you’ll need to ruin me.”
“Ruin you?” he hissed and then looked around to see if any passersby had heard him. Glancing back to her, he said, “You’re mad.”
“Mad enough to do whatever it takes not to wed a man old enough to be my grandfather. Or great-grandfather.”
Rob shook his head, resigned. He’d done so before, many times, especially when he’d gone along with her wild schemes from the time they were children and lived on adjoining estates.
“I think we’ll need to be found in a very compromising position. So compromising that you’ll need to purchase a special license tomorrow morning. We can wed in the afternoon. Or the next day at the latest.”
He sighed. “What am I to do?”
Gemma told him.
*
Gemma and her aunt arrived at the Parkington ball later than she preferred but she didn’t want to risk the chance of Willows claiming dances and making his offer—so she’d dawdled getting ready. She knew for certain that the man would request her hand because Aunt Sylvia had let slip that her brother would stop by tonight’s ball. Sir William Barton never had time to attend balls. For him to come to this one meant only one thing—he would announce his daughter’s engagement.
She took the programme du bal handed to her by a
footman and skirted the room. A few gentlemen stopped her and signed their names to her dance card. She found Rob, already wearing his officer’s uniform and looking quite dashing in it, and had him sign it, as well.
“After the fourth dance, meet me in the library,” she told him.
Gemma went to a group of women which included Lady Bilton and her sister, whose name Gemma couldn’t recall. The women were two of the biggest gossips of the ton and she knew Lady Bilton had seen her and Rob in the park today.
“Good evening, Lady Bilton,” she said demurely and also greeted the others in the circle.
“Was that Robert Smythe I saw you with today?” the woman immediately asked, needing confirmation for what she’d no doubt already told the women present.
“Yes, my lady,” Gemma said sweetly. “Rob is the son of Lord Covington, whose country estate lies next to ours. Rob and I grew up together. He’s a very dear friend to me.”
“Hmm,” the viscountess said. “You seemed very familiar with him today. You sat quite close together. And you call him Rob?”
Her cheeks heated and Gemma knew that would add to the gossip. It was only natural, though, with her being the center of attention to so many.
“As I said, Lady Bilton, we’ve known each other since the cradle. Rob is leaving to take up his commission soon.” She paused and then breathily said, “I will miss him more than I can say.”
Drawing the woman aside slightly, Gemma added with bright eyes, “He’s signed my dance card twice for tonight—and asked me to meet him in the library after the fourth dance. Do you think . . . that’s a good thing?” she asked innocently.
The voracious gossip’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I see. Well, Mr. Smythe is a very handsome man.”
“Isn’t he?” she asked dreamily.
Rob actually was one of the most handsome men present tonight, which would add to this woman’s need to see what the two of them would be doing in the library.
The musicians began tuning their instruments and she said, “I must return to my aunt. My first dance partner will be looking for me. It was nice speaking with you, Lady Bilton.”
