The Rogue's Folly

by Donna Lea Simpson

  “Not everything, milady,” the young man replied to her statement, shocked at her suggestion that he would be so lax as to give away everything about a mistress he held in awe because of her superior knowledge of horses. “Jest where she lived and such, and that she were home in Kent and that you was jest finished visitin’ there, an’ were on yer way to Surrey to Brockwith Manor.”

  Dodo closed her eyes and swayed back. She would warn Bill Connors about his groom’s loose mouth, not to get the young man in trouble but just because he must know that there was someone so interested in them. It was likely idle gossip but still, the coachman must be told.

  As they drove out of the carriage yard under the arches that spanned the entrance, she spied the stranger again—drat, but she had forgotten to ask John Groom if he had at least got the man’s name—leaning idly against the thick-timbered wall. He was chewing a piece of straw and tipped his hat with a grin when he saw that she had spotted him. And then he winked.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The afternoon had worn on with estate business that could not wait and daylight was slipping away. May glanced around the gallery hall, hoping she was unobserved. In the bustle of Dodo leaving, she had not yet been able to visit Etienne. Though he had plenty of food to last him days and his dressing was newly changed, she still longed to be near him. He had quickly become an obsession, or . . . perhaps that was not the right word. She liked everything about him from his most obvious assets to the subtleties of their relationship.

  He seemed to know what she was thinking. It was comforting, too, to know that she could say anything to him without fear he would castigate her for speaking her mind. They liked the same books, the same music, and their appreciation of nature was almost eerily in tune. The overhang they had spent the afternoon under had been, she now remembered, one of her favorite places when she was young. The fact that he had found it and felt it to be a special place was surely just a coincidence; it was one more thing they shared.

  Beyond all that, his horsemanship was stunningly competent, his bond with Théron very much like her own with Cassie. Perhaps that was what she respected more than anything, for there was no creature more worthless than a man who was cow-handed with horses.

  And yet this time her visit had a purpose, as well. He was going to tell her what he meant when he said that he had, indeed, tried to kill Emily’s husband, the marquess. She could not believe it of him, and must think it some kind of mistake until she heard his story. She would have wagered her estate on the honor of Etienne’s character. He could not be everything he was and yet be a savage murderer. But still it had given her many hours of soul searching and gnawing worry.

  She quietly stepped down the stairs, hoping her boots did not give her away, but stopped when she heard a commotion in the front hall. Stainer’s cultured voice was interrupted by a young, high-pitched tone. Something was wrong, she knew it in her bones. She sped the rest of the way down and arrived in the hall in time to see Stainer trying to push the stable boy, Zach, out the front door.

  “Be gone, you scalawag. If you have something to report, do it at the servants’ door, as is proper. What can have possessed you to come to the front door like this?”

  “I dint have time, I tell ya, I hear’d a gunshot whilst I was in th’ woods snarin’ . . . uh, chasing rabbits. T’ain’t nobody else t’ tell but the mistress, for Mr. Connors be gone and John Groom, too! An’ Mr. Crandall is nowhere t’ be found!”

  “Gunshots?” May said, waving Stainer away and bending down to the lad’s height.

  “Nowt but one, milady!” the boy said, looking up at her with frightened eyes. “In yonder woods, near where that little old building is and the gent is stayin’ there!”

  Her stomach clenched. He had seen Etienne! She should have known that someone would have seen him at some time. She hoped that Stainer either was not close enough to hear or did not understand the lad. A gunshot! Near the folly! Her heart thudded with a sick thump in her breast.

  “Saddle up Cassie for me, Zach. I’ll investigate. It is likely nothing more than a poacher, but I must scare him off my land.” May spoke calmly, but her whole body quivered with fear as she raced down the hall to the gun room, where she retrieved her hunting piece and loaded it. She was an excellent markswoman and kept her rifle in perfect condition, oiling it frequently so it loaded easily, the pieces moving with efficient smoothness. God willing, she would not have to test her aim that night, but she must be prepared. They would not take Etienne.

  It was twilight, and the woods were shadowy. She had absolutely refused Zach’s pleading to go with her. She knew from his description where he was when he heard the shot, and she would not put a child, even one so adept in the outdoors, in danger. It could be a poacher the boy heard, but most poachers used snares, not shot, especially so close to the manor house.

  Was it men searching her property, disregarding her orders? Or was it whomever was looking for Etienne? She kicked Cassie to a gallop, but then slowed as she entered the wood close to where she thought the interlopers would be. She heard them before she saw them. The brush was being trampled, and one man hissed to the others, “Be quiet, you fools! If he is here, he will surely hear you.”

  May walked Cassie quietly closer to where she thought the movement was, raised her gun to her shoulder, and shouted, “Come out of my woods this instant, or I will shoot until I hit someone!”

  “I told you you were as loud as elephants!” one growled.

  “Come out, now!” May insisted. Keeping her eyes on the trees in the gloomy shadows, she saw first her steward, Mr. Crandall, followed by the reverend, Mr. Dougherty, and then the two strangers from the village break through the brush. Mr. Crandall looked sheepish, but the others looked by turns angry and solemn.

  She kept the shotgun pointed at the strangers, for that was where the danger to Etienne had come from. They had almost been to the folly! They could have encountered him sleeping and taken him without a murmur. Or did the gunshot that Zach heard mean that they had already got him? She swallowed down her fear. This was no time to let Etienne down. If they had got him, they would not still be looking.

  She steeled herself. Anger welled up in her at the presumption of these fools to search her land when she had made it clear that it went against her express wishes. She sat tall in her saddle, taking advantage of her towering height over the men, who were on foot.

  “Mr. Crandall, what is the meaning of this? And Mr. Dougherty. Surely if you were coming to visit you would have come by the road?” She spoke in her coolest, unruffled voice.

  “You stupid bitch,” one of the strangers murmured. “Y’got a dangerous criminal in these woods somewhere, and we mean to find him.”

  “Get off of my land,” she growled, no longer constrained to politeness after that unforgivable slight. She sighted along her barrel. “I will give you to the count of ten, and then I will shoot you for trespassing.”

  One of them moved forward but she gestured for him to stay put.

  “My lady, per’aps you do not know the danger,” the other man said. He was tall and lanky, with a shock of graying hair falling negligently over his brow. His voice was educated, but May thought she caught a hint of accent. “This man, he has killed, and like a mad dog, he must be taken before he does further harm.”

  “I said, get off my land,” May said. “Ten, nine, eight—”

  “But he is a danger to you and your household! He—”

  “Five, four, three—”

  “But—”

  “One!” She shot over his head, the sound echoing through the forest, and he turned and raced through away from the folly, to May’s relief, followed briskly by the other man, who though much heavier was still very quick.

  She laid the shotgun across her lap and patted Cassie’s neck, proud of her little mare for standing so still, even with the loud, echoing report of the gun. She glared at Crandall, who was turning to slink away. “You are fired, Crandall.”

>   “But, milady,” he said, turning back toward her, a whine in his voice. “That feller they’re after is dangerous! A killer!”

  “I do not believe any killer is loose. And even if there was someone in my woods, he could not be as bad as that vermin you saw fit to obey over me!”

  “But, milady—”

  “I told you I did not want my woods searched with a bunch of lunatics with guns, and I meant it! I will not be disobeyed because I am a woman. You’re fired! Clear out your cottage by the end of next week.”

  She turned to Mr. Dougherty. Her chin went up. “How dare you do this, Mr. Dougherty? After my explicit instructions—”

  He drew himself up and huffily said, “Surely you do not wish a wanted criminal to freely roam your woods?”

  “Better the devil I know to the devil I don’t? I don’t believe in the bogeyman, Mr. Dougherty.”

  “Lady May, please, my only concern is for your safety. I would protect you, if you would allow me that honor.”

  His expression was humble, his voice pleading, but May did not for one moment believe that her welfare was of the slightest concern to him. Too many times she had seen him looking around her drawing room assessing the worth of the Waterford crystal and Sevres china, the Sheraton chairs and Grinling Gibbons frames. She knew what he was after; he coveted her property. He saw a spinster with few chances of marriage, and thought himself such a fine fellow as to deserve to wed her and gain access to all of her lovely money and property. “I want no protection from you or any man!”

  His eyes narrowed. “Could it be, my lady, that you do not feel the need for protection because you know who is in your woods?”

  Her heart thudded, but she couldn’t afford to let him see how unnerved she was by his too accurate guess. “And now you have offended me in every way you possibly can,” she said, drenching her tone in vitriol so venomous that it made her quiver. Anger took over from nervousness. “Get out of my woods, sir, before I have my men fetch the constable and have you up on charges of trespassing! There is no killer on my property. Is it so strange that I do not want strangers—those men you befriended!—wandering around my property with guns?”

  His voice softer once more, he said, “You need a man to protect you, my lady! You are too trusting, too innocent—”

  “I need a man for nothing!” she declared. “Now get off my property before I turn my gun on you!” She lifted her rifle again and pointed it above Dougherty’s head, her finger tightening on the trigger. She wasn’t seriously considering shooting him, but he didn’t know that.

  He stared just a moment, an expression of puzzlement on his face, then strode away. Crandall had already slunk off into the woods and was likely halfway to the public house by then. May lowered her rifle and slumped in the saddle. Thank God they took her at her word! Her fury at their presumption had carried her through, but now the full impact of the confrontation had her shuddering with fear. She rode through the woods and made sure that both Etienne’s enemies as well as the reverend and her former steward were gone. Then she approached the folly, heart pounding as it often seemed to do for one reason or another lately.

  She threw herself from Cassie’s back and stumbled into the folly. But Etienne was not there! In the failing autumnal light, she raced back outside and looked wildly around. Then emerging from the forest came Etienne, his gait brisk.

  “I thought they had gotten you!” She ran to him, but was drawn to a halt in front of him by the look of fury on his face.

  “How could you do that!” he raged, taking her shoulders in his large hands and giving her a slight shake. “How could you be so foolish as to risk your precious life for me?”

  Eyes wide, she gazed up into his twisted face, the tawny eyes blazing with anger. “I-I-I . . .” Stupidly, she could think of no words to say.

  “You foolish child! Those men are demons, devils! They would have killed you if those two men from the village were not there to witness. How could you take such a chance?”

  She pulled away from him, twisting her shoulders from his bruising grip. “You are just like all men!” she cried, her hands balled into fists. “I thought you were different, but underneath you are all the same. You think I should stay at home, no doubt, and needlepoint!”

  “Better the needlepoint than for you to—”

  “I’m not finished,” she spat, her body quivering with rage, a reaction to the danger she had been in and her fear for Etienne. “Men risk their lives every day, and no one thinks a thing of it. I am just as good as any man, and I deserve the right to be just as much a stupid fool as you!”

  “I will not have a woman protecting me!” he said haughtily. “I will not hide behind the skirts and tremble like a woman!”

  “That’s just fine, because I have no skirts for you to hide behind!”

  “I can take care of myself!”

  “You would have died of gangrene like a wounded animal if I had not found you and fed you and cared for you!”

  She was right, he thought, his fury dying. He gazed steadily at her, at how her blue eyes flashed in the dim light of the dying day. And she was right that she could look after herself, the brave little one with the heart of a warrior. “You little fool,” he cried, and grasped her in his arms and pulled her to him. He kissed her hard and then kissed her neck, muttering to himself in his native language. “I was so afraid for you, little one. I did not know if it would make it better or worse by revealing myself. Oh, my sweet May!”

  Taken completely by surprise by his swift turnabout, she relaxed into his arms. She pulled his face up to hers and kissed him, their kisses deepening as passion flared. He molded her body to his, pulling at her bottom until she was cradled against him. She could feel him tremble, and because of his gentle tutelage of the day before she understood what it meant. He wanted her. He desired her, as a man does a woman. Entranced, she stilled in his arms and thought about all that that meant, about how she should be frightened of his desire, but felt only joy.

  Blushing, she gazed up into his eyes in the faint light, reaching up and gently touching his cheek. She had fallen in love with him, she thought, dazed by the new awareness. She was deeply and completely in love with a man who had no intention and no ability to marry her.

  He groaned and buried his face into her neck and nipped at her skin, then worked his way up to her earlobe, which he nibbled and lapped at. He wanted her. And she wanted at least once to experience physical love. In the years to come she would be able to remember how it felt to be truly loved, only by Etienne, for he was the man she would always love, no matter where he was and who he was with in future.

  “Etienne,” she whispered, as darkness closed in around them and the night sounds swelled into a chorus. She heard Cassie’s soft whicker of welcome, and thought that Théron must have come out of the woods, for the mare only made that sound for the big stallion. “May I stay with you tonight?”

  He held her face in both of his hands and searched her eyes in the fading light. “Do you know what you ask, little one? Do you know what I want?”

  She blushed even deeper. “I know what I’m asking, and I want you, Etienne, I truly do.”

  His dark eyes blazed with golden, tender passion. “You will not regret this, my sweet,” he whispered, and swung her up into his arms. He carried her into the folly and laid her down on the sofa, laying beside her and gathering her into his arms. “You will never regret this, for I have so much to teach you that you have not yet learned. And so much to give you, of my love, of passion given and taken.”

  He lowered his head, and possessed her lips in a deep, sweet kiss, and then let his hands sweep over her slender curves. “Ah, ma chére petite, but I have waited for this night.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Her ineffectual fumbling was making him crazed with desire, but it also awoke in him complete awareness of her innocence. She said she knew what he wanted, understood, but did she truly? Pulling away, breathing hard, he stumbled to his f
eet beside the couch.

  • • •

  May opened her eyes. Etienne stared down at her, his eyes glittering with some dark emotion she could not name. He looked tortured and she didn’t understand. He wanted her. Even now she could see desire etched in the taut lines on his handsome face. Should she reach out and pull him to her? She was tired of being prim and proper. For once she wanted to sample life, drink its draught deeply, savoring the wild flavor of passion.

  Her mouth was dry and she trembled, passionate longing coursing through her veins. No one ever spoke of it, but there was a charged crackling in the air between lovers, like that moment before lightning streaked through the sky. The glances exchanged when they thought no one was looking, the delicious awareness between a man and woman . . . she felt all that in Etienne’s presence.

  “Etienne, please,” she whispered, and reached her arms up to him. “Make love to me.”

  He groaned and clenched his fists at his side, beating at his thighs. “You have no idea what you ask, little one,” he said, mastering his breathing. He looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and then gazed back down at her. “Go away,” he growled, and his whole body shook. “Go! I do not want you here.”

  She was stunned into inaction, not believing what she was hearing. “Etienne?”

  “Go away!” He grasped her arm and pulled her from the couch, and then swatted her bottom. “Shoo, little girl. Go home!”

  Tears of humiliation welled into her eyes and she stumbled to the door of the folly. She cast one long look back, but his expression was implacable. She raced from the folly. Cassie was just outside, being nuzzled by Théron, and she swung herself up on her mare’s back and kicked her into a trot, later breaking into a gallop as they left the woods, the folly and the scene of her humiliation.

  • • •