When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

  He was angry—or still angry.

  He hadn’t felt such raw, powerful fury in many years. He’d truly only been overcome by this level of emotion twice: directly following his parents’ deaths, and then again when his aunt had succumbed. Aunt Alice had been like a mother to him, and she’d been taken far too early for a woman as caring and alive as she.

  On those two occasions, Jasper had been well aware what caused his shift in mood.

  But, as he stalked into the foyer, he could not reconcile what had upset him so on this occasion.

  Was his ire at Emily for offering the bloody riding habit for Adeline to wear?

  Was he angry at Abbington’s part in locating the woman’s bow and quiver among her stowed belongings?

  Did he resent his stable master’s betrayal for having a horse saddled for her to ride?

  Or, more pointedly, did his annoyance lay solely with himself for bringing the woman to Faversham Abbey in the first place?

  Jasper wasn’t certain how he’d expected his servants to react to their surprise guest, but catering to her every whim, even defying his orders, was not it at all.

  Faversham was not a safe place for the likes of Miss Adeline, especially when the woman was hell-bent on finding trouble at every turn.

  He growled as Abbington wrapped a blanket about his quaking shoulders at the same time his wife, Mrs. Hutchins, did the same for Adeline.

  When had Jasper started thinking of the woman as simply Adeline?

  She was still a stranger to him—and he to her.

  “See that Miss Adeline is taken to her chambers immediately, and have dry, clean clothes brought for her.” He addressed Abbington and his housekeeper, who no doubt watched his every move. “We cannot have her returning to London and her family ill.”

  Or have her stranded for a longer period of time at Faversham Abbey while she convalesced.

  His feet sloshed in his Hessians as he stomped into the library, slamming the door behind him. The echo dared any of his most loyal servants to betray him again—or to so much as stray a single step from his commands.

  Bloody damnation.

  The woman was nothing but a distraction, a dangerous disruption to his orderly life.

  Jasper poured himself a healthy tumbler of Scotch, emptied the glass in one swallow, and poured another before moving before the hearth. After only a moment of pacing, he tossed the blanket Abbington had wrapped around his shoulders to the lounge followed by his wet jacket. His shirt and trousers were also soaked through, but blessedly, the spirits had halted the worst of his shivers.

  The energy he’d exerted while extricating Grovedale was enough to keep the worst of the cold at bay, and his clenched jaw stopped his teeth from chattering. Miss Adeline hadn’t had the same adrenaline rush to keep her chills under control.

  If anyone deserved to catch the ague, it was Jasper.

  He’d brought the trouble into his normally peaceful and well-maintained home. It was his own fault that memories, longings, and guilt from his past assaulted him at every turn since the woman arrived. It had been years since he explored his unending guilt over his parents’ deaths or allowed the all-consuming anger to take hold of him in such a way.

  The carriage needed to be repaired with all due haste.

  As soon as Watson returned from seeing Grovedale home, he would demand the servant work all evening—and into the night—to make certain Miss Adeline was on her way back to London at first light.

  Jasper took a healthy swallow from his tumbler, welcoming the sting as it traveled down his throat and warmed his stomach further.

  It was imperative that he suppress his anger and keep the beast that threatened to overtake him at bay. It would not be at Jasper’s hand that the villager’s suspicions were confirmed. He may appear the beast outwardly but he’d worked every day of his life to make certain that inside he was kind, compassionate, and ever the noble gentleman and lord.

  One day, he had faith, his ugly mask would fall and his people would see the man beneath.

  Today had not been that day, no matter the good Jasper did.

  Tomorrow…tomorrow he would send Miss Adeline on her way, repair the damage to the gunpowder plant, announce his plans for expansion, and move to hire additional villagers at both his estate and Home Works.

  Adeline would be gone, though forgotten was an entirely different matter.

  Even in his current mood, Jasper could picture how she’d looked as she watched him earlier after Emily’s husband had been pulled from the debris. There wasn’t even a need to close his eyes. No, she was there, before him, as he stared into the open flames of the hearth.

  Her hair had been tousled and tangled in wild abandon…something Jasper had gotten used to seeing. Gone were the perfectly curled and pinned tresses he’d witnessed in the dining hall that morning. Vanished was her assured nature after donning the scarlet riding habit as he’d admired her at the bottom of the stairs before their hunt. Her eyes had been alight with what? Fright, terror, pride, amazement, and…something bordering on affection? He must have been mistaken, catching a glimpse of her and infusing his own inner feelings onto her.

  Truthfully, Jasper had been possessed by a sense of fright and terror when he agreed to allow her to hunt with him. That had swiftly changed to pride and amazement when she took down the first turkey with her superior skill at archery.

  But affection?

  It was an utterly foreign emotion to Jasper.

  Certainly, he cared for his servants. He’d outright loved his aunt and uncle, and must have held the same feelings for his blooded parents, even though he’d been too young to truly understand the bond that existed between a boy and his family.

  No, there had been no look of affection or adoration.

  It simply could not exist between the pair of them. Adeline belonged in London, and Jasper at Faversham Abbey.

  It had been an act of selfishness that he’d brought her to the Abbey to begin with, but by no means could be keep her at Faversham.

  Never should their paths cross again once she departed on the morrow.

  Chapter 11

  ADELINE STOOD INSIDE the library with her back pressed against the door, watching Lord Ailesbury pace back and forth before the fire as he downed yet another glass of what she could only imagine were spirits. He’d been so consumed with his musings, that he hadn’t heard her slip into the room and close the door behind her.

  The light from the hearth cast a shadow across the entire room as he pivoted once more and followed the same path he had several times earlier. His profile was to her, and Adeline took the time she had to explore the harsh line of his jaw, the aristocratic set of his nose, and his long, cocoa-brown hair. His garb was not that of an earl, but everything about the lord screamed wealth, power, and control. His stride was sure and solid. The sun-kissed, golden glow of his skin spoke to his many hours—and days—working out amongst his people…those same people who’d just as quickly turned their backs on him.

  As he reached the far side of the room, he turned once more, his chin lowering, and his empty glass clutched tightly to his chest. This was the side of him that was at odds with everything she knew of the man thus far. Yes, his scars were not who he was, but from this angle, Ailesbury appeared alone, helpless, and adrift. His posture was not as rigid, his shoulder dipped slightly. His footfalls were not as precisely pronounced. He almost appeared fragile, as an infant did shortly after birth until they grew strong enough to hold their own head high and ultimately walk on their own.

  Not an infant, but a bird with a clipped wing.

  This man before her—his drive to help those around him, his need to care for all who called Faversham home, his reclusive nature—longed to soar. Something held him back, though, and it was not his injuries.

  No, it had nothing to do with his outward self.

  Suddenly, Lord Ailesbury paused, letting out a quiet sigh before closing his eyes and turning his stare to the ceiling above.
His hand fell from his chest, the tumbler sliding from his grasp to the rug-covered floor before it rolled under the edge of the lounge, forgotten.

  Adeline held herself back from going to him and wrapping her arms around him, doing all within her power to right the situation…every wrong done to him…anything that could bring him to the low point he was in at that moment.

  Yet, she didn’t move. She was an unwelcome guest in his home. No matter how wonderfully his servants treated her, Adeline suspected the earl only wanted her gone. Returned to London and her family. He would desire her nowhere near where she could bear witness to what transpired within Faversham Abbey.

  She should flee, return to her chambers, and discard the wet riding habit for a clean, dry gown, putting as much distance between her and Lord Ailesbury as the large estate would allow. It was seemingly what he wanted and, surprisingly, Adeline realized she desperately wanted to please the man before her, even if that meant never seeing him again. He’d bidden her go to her room and change, yet she’d disobeyed him. It was the old Adeline resurfacing.

  The young, impulsive, headstrong girl who’d arrived in Canterbury at twelve, and the same woman who’d departed the place nearly seven years later.

  This was not the woman who’d been forced to stand back and watch as her best friend and brother found a love Adeline suspected would always be denied her. It was the broken woman who’d been made to sit back and watch as her father passed away, forever cast in the light of a stranger to his eldest daughter. Now, she was the woman who’d been charged with delivering her youngest sisters to boarding school because her mother barely found strength to leave her private chambers following the death of her mate and husband.

  Only a day at Faversham Abbey, and Adeline had reverted to the selfish child she’d once been before loss and a brief glimpse of love had entered her life. Yes, she’d been an outsider, watching Theo and Alistair as they embarked on their journey to wedded bliss, but it had opened her eyes.

  At Faversham, Adeline was faced with a man who’d seen true horror and devastation. She did not know the extent of his hardships, but what she’d overheard at the plant had been enough to allow her to see the folly of her recent actions.

  A fire had taken Lord Ailesbury’s parents and left him marred, forever burdened with the lasting scars of what had transpired. She sensed she knew him better than before, but also, not at all. Even his given name was still a mystery to her. Why did he keep himself secluded here at the Abbey, and what had happened after his parents’ deaths? Surely, he must have been taken care of by someone other than servants, possibly sent away to school as she’d been—though for utterly opposite reasons.

  She’d spoken of her father’s death during their hunting excursion, yet he’d kept his own past close, refusing to speak about it with her. They were strangers, two people forced into one another’s lives due to the storm. He hadn’t sought her out, selected her because of some connection between them, nor had he given any impression that he’d been happy to welcome her as a guest into his home.

  The fact was, she’d been forced upon him. And as a gentleman, Lord Ailesbury had taken the honorable path: offered her safe, dry lodging, ample food, and the promise of a repaired coach.

  Adeline pulled the blanket more securely around her shoulders as her teeth threatened to chatter again. If only she could move closer to the hearth, gain a bit of the warmth offered by the roaring fire; however, she sensed Lord Ailesbury was in far greater need of the heat than she.

  A loud crack of thunder rattled the windowpanes, and Ailesbury’s eyes snapped open, their olive-green hue turning as vibrant as the lightning streak outside as they flashed in her direction.

  “Lord Ailesbury—” Her fingers tightened their hold until her knuckles ached.

  His glare narrowed on her as his shoulders straightened once more and he shifted to face her. His chin lifted at the same time his hands landed on his hips, and he frowned. For a brief second, Adeline could have sworn another battle raged in his eyes, as if the earl debated his next move until, ultimately, he held firmly to his anger.

  He did not blink, did not shift his glare away from her or relax his posture as they stared at one another.

  And Adeline held her breath, fearing if she made so much as the smallest movement, the spell freezing them both to their spots would evaporate, and Lord Ailesbury would demand she leave his library.

  With agonizing slowness, his cold stare left hers and traveled down her body, the riding habit clinging to Adeline’s every curve. Leisurely, he took in the sight of her, his chilly glare melting as he once again stared her straight in the eyes.

  He dared her to move.

  He taunted her to speak.

  He challenged her to so much as take the deep breath her aching lungs demanded.

  The silence between them was louder than any tempest.

  Lord Ailesbury held her stare, wordlessly demanding she turn and depart the room or face the consequences of her lack of action.

  Yet, Adeline would not back down. She would not cower in fear and run for safety. She knew enough about the man before her to know he would never cause her injury or harm. There was nothing for Adeline to fear in the earl’s presence.

  Nothing about the man scared her, least of all his physical scars.

  They did not influence her opinion of him in any way.

  What did change everything was what she’d learned about his past.

  Adeline hadn’t any idea why she purposefully disobeyed his command and followed him into the library, silently closing them both in together…alone.

  But at that precise moment, with the fire crackling in the hearth behind him and the storm subsiding outside, Adeline had no doubts why she’d come to this room—to this man.

  They had lived a thousand lifetimes together in the last day.

  She’d born witness to his commitment to his servants, his people, and his land.

  He’d rescued her from the storm along that deserted road. He’d rushed to her aid when the windowpane shattered in the dining hall. He’d watched with a measure of pride as she’d shown him her skill with a bow. And she’d stood by with her own sense of pride as he saved Grovedale from certain death. She’d also had to stand by and watch the villagers treat him as if he were an outsider, a pariah, a man who did not belong on his own land.

  And for what?

  She’d wanted to demand answers of them all. She’d longed to rail against the injustice of it all. If the earl hadn’t spotted her and quickly brought her back to the Abbey, Adeline might have confronted the lot of them—and given them the sharp reprimand and scolding they so richly deserved.

  The blanket slipped from her shoulders, cascading down her body to pool at her feet, and Adeline stepped toward him.

  One step.

  Two steps.

  Three.

  Short, unhurried paces made difficult by the immense weight of the riding habit she wore.

  How had she not noticed the nearly crippling heaviness of the garment before now?

  Four steps.

  Lord Ailesbury’s stare shifted from cold and narrowed to widened confusion as he matched her step for step.

  However, as she moved closer, he moved away until his shoulders pressed into the mantel above the hearth.

  …as if he were terrified of her.

  Chapter 12

  AS IF BY some grand scheme concocted by a deity Jasper had no belief in—and likely one that cared not a whit for him—Miss Adeline Price not only stood before him but proceeded to walk his way. His entire body stiffened when the blades at his shoulders came into contact with the rough wood of the hearth mantel.

  The blanket his housekeeper had set about the woman’s shoulders lay forgotten by the door.

  Adeline strode toward him, all confidence with a sensual sway to her hips.

  Did she always saunter thusly?

  Jasper wracked his memory in an attempt to determine how he hadn’t noticed the woman’s
allure before this moment.

  Certainly, he had not been completely unaware of Adeline’s beauty.

  However, finding a woman beautiful and longing to strip every inch of clothing from her body were indubitably different things. Only a moment before, he’d been questioning the look he’d seen in her eyes outside the plant—convinced he’d misread everything he’d seen.

  Jasper hadn’t misread anything. All the confirmation he needed was right before him in Adeline’s stance, mirroring his from a moment before. Uplifted chin, penetrating glare, and purposeful air. Those were his mechanisms…his tricks…to send her fleeing the room in fear of what the Beast of Faversham would do next.

  The foolish woman had used his intimidating position against him, driving Jasper back in fear.

  But what did he fear, precisely?

  What didn’t he fear, was a far more appropriate question.

  He feared his need to have Adeline at Faversham Abbey, even when she was but a stranger who’d been stranded alongside the road. He feared his intense reactions to her—both anger and lust—and the control he felt slipping with each breath. And what he feared most of all…watching the woman depart Faversham, which would happen at first light. It had to happen. There was no other choice for either of them.

  The sooner, the better…for all concerned.

  The last thing Jasper wanted was the woman overhearing something she had no business knowing. Or asking questions on subjects he had no answers for.

  She stalked toward him, the shadow cast by his body and the fire shrouding her in mystery though her eyes held none. Suddenly, she was the hunter and he the prey. Why did that suit him so?

  Halting several paces from him, Adeline bent at the waist and slid her hand under the lounge. When she straightened once more, a smirk upon her plump lips, she held his forgotten tumbler. For the life of him, Jasper could not remember setting the thing down, let alone it having rolled under the lounge.

  She set the glass on the low table before the chaise and returned her stare to his as she continued toward him.