How to Tame a Modern Rogue

by Diana Holquist

She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a cliff. “Guess we’re both suffering from a case of mistaken identity.”

  “Bloody shame.” He leaned back, spread his arms over the backs of the seats to either side of him.

  Then he turned and looked at Eloisa again.

  Ally couldn’t help it; she had to look back.

  Eloisa shot him a flirty smile and puffed away, happy as a cat in the sun.

  To get Alexandra, the duke would have to pursue another.

  —From The Dulcet Duke

  Chapter 22

  The gun sounded and the horses broke out of the starting gate. Lady Sam fell behind in an instant. Ally sank back into the seat next to Sam and hid her face.

  But then she had to watch. She felt the sickness that was gambling creep into her veins: hope. What if? Just this once? She peeked out from between her fingers. What if Sam was really a good, trustworthy man? What if Eloisa wasn’t the slut she was turning out to be? What if the horse won? Lady Sam was in fourth as they rounded the first bend. Granny Donny’s face was alight with excitement, her eyes blazing as she cheered her horse on with a breathless, “Go, go, go! Like the wind! Fly!” Ally could see her mother’s face in her grandmother’s. The hope, the excitement, the forgetting about the future as she became lost in the moment. This was how mothers forgot about daughters. How men forgot about their lovers as they turned to loose housekeepers: the hope of something more, something better. Gamblers could never stop with what they had. Sam was just like the rest of them.

  But maybe she was, too. Waiting for her parents was the long shot of a lifetime. And she had lost half her life to it. If she was really a gambler, she’d go after Sam right now. Risk it all. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk anything more. There was so little left. She could hear her father’s voice in her head: When you have nothing left to lose, that’s when you really start to play. She could turn to Sam and tell him that, yes, she wanted him, all of him, again and again, forever.

  But what a risk. Look at him.

  The horses came out of the second turn with Lady Sam in second place, a head and neck behind the lead horse. She held her place as they rounded the third bend.

  Eloisa’s hand clenched Sam’s shoulder as Lady Sam inched up on the leader. They came to the straight run toward the finish, and Ally found herself more focused on the hand than on the horses. Around them, the sparse, spotty crowd cheered, as if cheering for Eloisa. Go, go! Touch his pec! Lean in close and kiss him!

  Ally tore her eyes away and watched her grandmother instead. She was sitting upright, one hand holding her parasol, her chin in the air, an image of gentility and poise, except for the curses she shouted to egg on her “goddamn hunk of dogmeat!” Ally loved those glimmers of the old Granny Donny. Was she coming back? Maybe the pills were taking hold? The doctor had said there was a chance, however slim, that her condition was treatable. Ally tried not to dwell on the weeks lost while her grandmother had resisted the drugs.

  Lady Sam pulled up neck and neck with the lead horse.

  Eloisa’s mouth nestled just behind Sam’s left ear and she bit her lower lip. Ally thought she heard growling.

  And then, at the last instant, the lead horse pulled ahead, crossing the finish line a nose before Lady Sam.

  Ally let the defeat wash over her. She would not look at Sam and Eloisa. “I’m going to kill you, Sam.”

  “But why? Your grandmother bet to show.”

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she lied. She had been around racetracks enough that she could already calculate her grandmother’s winnings in her head, before and after taxes. Not bad.

  What if…?

  Sam explained. “Show means the horse can come in second and she still wins. Your granny just made another bundle. What have you done today for her, Princess?”

  Alexandra knew what the duke was up to, and she wouldn’t fall for his tricks. His eyes, on the other hand, were harder to resist. There wasn’t a woman in London who wouldn’t fall for them.

  —From The Dulcet Duke

  Chapter 23

  Eloisa suggested the celebration dinner, and Sam and Granny Donny merrily agreed. Ally refused to be the party pooper. She didn’t want Sam to think she was jealous. What did she care whom he winked at? She had slept with the duke—once!—and that was all. Mistake. Done. Over. Sam could do what he liked. She had no claim on him.

  So why not have a blowout dinner with some of Granny Donny’s winnings? Her grandmother was, Ally had to admit, having fun. More fun than she’d had in years. So what if she thought it was 1812? So what if she had no idea who or where she was? So what if they’d gotten almost nowhere today? So what if Sam was flirting with the hired help?

  The last one hurt most of all, but Ally refused to acknowledge the ache. Or the anger.

  They went down to the stables to find Mateo sitting in a circle of folding chairs with a group of horsemen, drinking out of a silver flask they passed from man to man.

  After some good-natured banter and bowing and explanations of their odd party, they said their good-byes and got ready to get back on the road. Mateo led Paula from her stall and back to the carriage.

  As Mateo adjusted Paula’s tack, a man joined him. He motioned to Paula’s yellow, green, and blue plumes. “Hey, amigo, you should take these folks to the Settle Inn. It’s run by a Brazilian mulher just a few miles down the road. It’s got a stable in the back for your horse, and the avo cooks a rango com quiabo not to be believed.”

  “Maybe, obrigado,” Mateo replied, but he didn’t look at the man. In fact, he seemed to be trying to hide his face from him.

  “Should we?” Ally asked, trying to interpret Mateo’s reluctance. She had no idea what rango com quiabo was, but she hadn’t eaten all day, and rango com anything sounded pretty good.

  Mateo hesitated. Then he touched Paula’s flank as if for luck. “Sure. No problem. I’ll make the call.”

  “Mateo, one more thing,” Ally said, catching him before he rejoined the others. “We have to get my grandmother to the house and get her settled. We can’t keep making these stops.”

  “It was your grandmother who wanted to stop here,” Mateo said. “She insisted.”

  Ally was surprised. Why hadn’t Sam told her the track had been Granny Donny’s idea?

  “And I wanted to give Paula a break,” Mateo went on. “These new streets are hard on her. She’s been shuttling like she’s on tracks between Central Park and her stables. Now I take her out to all these new places. She’s feeling it. She’s under stress. A day of rest did her good.”

  Ally looked at Paula. She had no idea how to tell if a horse was stressed out. Paula wasn’t smoking or biting her nails or splurging on pints of Ben & Jerry’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of her.”

  Mateo petted Paula’s warm side. “Also I was hoping maybe one of these guys would want her. Or would know someone who would. After. You know.”

  Ally let the horse’s mane slip through her fingers. “After what?” She’d been so lost in her own head these past few days, had she missed something he’d said?

  Mateo patted Paula. “After we finish this trip. I’m not taking her back to Manhattan, Ally. No working horses in Manhattan after they’re twenty-five. Rules are strict.”

  Ally tried to follow. “You mean, sell her?”

  “I can’t afford to keep her if she’s not working, and I can’t keep her working in the city. Out here, I was hoping, maybe someone would see her and want her.”

  Ally looked into the mare’s huge black, liquid eyes. “Oh, Mateo. I wasn’t thinking. Of course. I’m sorry.” Compared to the racehorses surrounding her, Paula seemed small and frail, almost like another species. “Who buys old horses?”

  “You mean besides the glue factory?”

  Ally gasped again. “Don’t say that!”

  “She doesn’t speak English,” he joked, but his voice was wistful. He adjusted her tack a final time. “It’s the way of the world. A time
to live, and a time to die. That’s life, right? You gotta get as much as you can out of it before your time comes. In a way, Ally, you and I are making the same journey, no? Hoping to bring the old ladies to a kind of peace.”

  Sam watched Ally talk to Mateo and his skin grew hot. The way she looked at him. The way she deferred to him. It wasn’t that Sam thought she was interested in the coachman. Not in that way. What he was watching between Mateo and Ally was worse than a sexual attraction. She was talking to Mateo. Having a real conversation about something—who knew what—that touched them both.

  Sure, Sam was fine in her bed for a night, or to turn to when she needed diversion in the carriage. But otherwise, he was still nothing to her.

  Except that he wasn’t. He knew they’d had something more than role-playing sex last night. There had been a connection. Ally was just too pigheaded to realize it. Competitive spirit stirred his resolve. A duke had to do what a duke had to do.

  Even if it broke her.

  Or him.

  “You’re going with Eloisa in the car?” Ally asked Sam. Her heart was beating wildly with anger and jealousy, but she’d be damned if she was going to let it show.

  “See you at dinner.” Sam waved happily.

  Ally gave Eloisa the car keys and watched her and her long, lean, bare legs and her perfect little body climb into the car with Sam. Ally, her grandmother, and Mateo followed in the carriage. After they passed the third strip mall, the town began to thin out, getting greener and sparser. Granny Donny took Ally’s hand. “Thank you, dear,” she said. “I had a lovely day.”

  Paula clopped along the quiet streets.

  Ally tried not to think about Sam. “Grandma, please don’t gamble anymore. It doesn’t become a lady.” She couldn’t believe those words had come out of her mouth. She was the good woman and she was so darn—no, so damned!—tired of it.

  “I expected to see your dear mother at the track,” Granny Donny said. “I was so disappointed.”

  “Why did you expect that?” Ally held her breath.

  Granny Donny sighed and ignored the question. “Oh, it doesn’t signify, dear. I’m so excited for the ball, when you and the duke can be together and dance and be young and let the sparks fly! I do think that he’ll propose there. Don’t you, darling? And your father and mother will give you away. It will be like old times!”

  Ally couldn’t look at her grandmother. Granny Donny had let her live her life with the fantasy that her parents would be back “any day now.” It would be cruel for her to deny her grandmother the same hope. Her grandmother had let her pretend for so long. But the irony that Ally had finally left the fantasy behind just as her grandmother picked it up tore her heart apart.

  Even if she couldn’t destroy the fantasy of her parents’ return, though, Ally could nip the fantasy of Sam in the bud. “Sam is not going to propose to me at a ball or anywhere.”

  “Well, of course not.”

  Ally was stunned by her grandmother’s abrupt about-face.

  “Not unless you do something about it. I can feel the love you two share. The way you ran to him when he was injured in that duel!”

  It took Ally a moment to realize her grandmother was talking about the soccer game.

  “Or the way he kisses you.”

  Yeah, well, you should see how he makes love to me. She felt the urge to bolt from the carriage, catch the car by sheer will, and yank Sam out by his messy hair. Mine.

  But she didn’t make a move. “First, I don’t even know him. Second, he isn’t interested in me. Third, even if he was, he isn’t my type.” Fourth, that’s animal lust you’re picking up, and lust does not equal love.

  “How can you know he isn’t your type if you don’t know him? Darling, that makes no sense at all. You must get to know him. To discover the pain beneath his flawless surface. To find out why he cannot love.”

  Ally glanced at her grandmother. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Of course not. He suffers the pain only true love can heal.”

  “Sam? Suffering? I don’t think so.”

  “That’s because you’re too closed off to see.”

  Ally watched her grandmother closely. Despite her risky behavior today, she was starting to sound more aware of the real world. Was it because she had finally taken her pills? If Ally kept supervising her carefully, would this whole episode end? Would she be able to go to San Francisco after all at the end of the summer? Was that still what she wanted?

  Or did she want Sam? All of him? Forever?

  * * *

  The houses were getting bigger, settled in the center of green lawns. They had crossed out of the city and entered a place that seemed quaint and old-fashioned, frozen in time. This was the way Ally had imagined their journey. She and her grandmother, a beautiful dusk, the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves. It was peaceful. Lovely, even. Granny Donny was stroking the kitten, which they’d named Bandit. Bandit looked as if his tiny bones had gone to liquid as he sprawled on Granny’s lap.

  Ally wished she felt so peaceful. Instead, her mind and body felt as if they were separating. On the one hand, Sam meant great sex with a beautiful man. On the other, he meant great sex with a beautiful man who personified her parents’ lifestyle—carefree, risk-taking, irresponsible, disloyal. She felt a black hole open in her gut and resisted spiraling into it. Admitting she wanted Sam, all of him, would be admitting that her mother had done the right thing in following her father. That a rogue could be okay. Better than okay. That a rogue could be worth following. To the ends of the earth. Worth loving. And then loving again. How could that be? How could she risk that?

  “Granny Donny, do you think my mother did the right thing when she left with my father?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, dear,” Granny Donny said with not a moment of hesitation.

  “Why?”

  “She followed her heart, dear. She had no choice.”

  “But what about her leaving me?” Ally heard the childishness of her words, but the pain was still there; she couldn’t help it.

  “You had me, dear. You were better off with me. We all agreed.”

  So they had come to a logical decision?

  Was there a logical decision to be made about Sam? Could a man who treated Veronica and apparently all the women who came before her badly treat Ally any better? It wasn’t logical. Case in point: him running off with Eloisa.

  They passed under a towering maple and Ally looked up at the majestic, soaring trunk, the sedate green leaves.

  Logical? She was in the back of a carriage pretending to be a princess.

  She looked at her grandmother, swaying happily, stroking the kitten.

  Logical?

  This trip was lovely, the best thing Ally had ever done for her grandmother, and it was completely nuts. Maybe it was time to forget logical and lay her cards on the table.

  To make the bet of a lifetime.

  The sign for the Settle Inn pointed up a long driveway that meandered around a copse of trees. They slowly made their way around the curve, where a charming 1920s, multicolored, gingerbread-style cottage welcomed them.

  Sam and Eloisa were already on the porch swing out front, sipping wine.

  Mateo stopped the carriage in front of the inn and leaped down. Ally realized she was waiting for him to take her hand as if she had spent her entire life riding around in carriages with attentive coachmen.

  Eloisa had kicked off her shoes and was blissfully settled on the swing, as if she had spent her entire life with Sam.

  Ally approached the porch of the cottage, her grandmother clinging to her arm. Sam and Eloisa were swinging, singing, and drinking red wine, without a care in the world.

  “We’ve ordered up dinner!” Sam called. “We’re the only ones here tonight, so Mrs. Maltez, the proprietor, is making us a special Brazilian meal!”

  “Delightful!” Granny Donny said, but her voice was tired, and Ally wondered if she’d make it to dinner without falling asleep. Maybe it
was the pills that were wearing her out. Ally hoped she wasn’t being too strict with her grandmother.

  Sam jumped up to open the door for them.

  “Opening doors for ladies doesn’t make you a gentleman,” she said.

  “Oh, Ally, you’re no lady,” he whispered. And then he shut the door behind them.

  Mateo was in the inn’s stable, counting bills. He had rubbed down Paula and now she was happily munching hay. He was glad she’d had an easy day today. This trip was taking it out of her, and he had to be careful not to push her. He had to keep her healthy if his plan to find her a new home was to work. No one but the glue factory wanted a sick old horse.

  Mateo overturned a pail and sat on it while he watched her. He folded the money he had won today and pushed it into his pocket. He had dabbled in gambling before, but never like that. Donatella Giordano was an idiot savant at the track. She picked horses by sense of smell or messages from God or maybe a complex and intricate study of the wrinkles of her palm. Who knew? Who cared? The eight hundred dollars he’d walked away with today was more than he made in a month carting tourists around Manhattan.

  The feel of the money reminded him of better days. He had been rich once. This would have been pocket money. Enough for a night on the town. But he didn’t want to think about everything he had left behind.

  What he had to think about was Paula getting old. He couldn’t take her back to Manhattan. Mateo believed, more than anything else, in loyalty. He was going to save this horse, even if it cost him everything. The eight hundred bucks would help, but it wasn’t enough. It cost a lot more than that to board a horse for any length of time. And although he had once been a rich man, he had given everything he had to the local church before leaving his country. It had been an apology as well as a way of starting over. But now he wished he’d kept a little of his riches; he hadn’t anticipated Paula. And he had no way to make that kind of money here without going back to his old life.

  Which he wasn’t going to do.

  The small stable sat across the mud parking lot from the main house, and as the summer sun set, the lights in the house went on one by one. Mateo could see Sam flirting with Eloisa at the large round table. Stupid man had no idea what he had in Ally.