Lord Rogue

by Patricia Rice

  Alicia accepted the small box with trembling fingers. Opening the box, she gazed in delight at his gift—an exquisitely wrought ring. Delicate bands of silver supported an oval sapphire and two tiny diamonds. She raised her eyes to Travis without a hint of doubt.

  “I almost feel the love that produced such workmanship,” she murmured, her eyes as bright as the stone in her hands. “Are you certain you want me to wear it?”

  Travis lifted the ring from the box and slid the band over her finger. The whiteness of Alicia’s skin contrasted sharply with the brown of his.

  “I want the world to know you are mine, Alicia,” he whispered huskily before claiming the kiss that it was now his right to take.

  Neither heard the sharp rap against the door. Not until Chester Stanford threw open the study door did they remember an outside world existed. His loud “Har-umph,” forced a swift distance.

  “I take it this means the evening has come to a successful conclusion,” he remarked with irony.

  Shyly Alicia circled Travis’s arm with her hands, causing the lamplight to glitter against the ring on her finger. “Travis speaks faster than I can think. I believe we may be officially engaged.”

  Travis bent his smile on her dark head before lifting his gaze to her father’s. “With your permission, of course.”

  Chapter 24

  At the same time Chester Stanford’s letter to New York launched the first leg of its journey, a crowded stagecoach rumbled down the muddy streets of Pittsburgh and halted in front of a local tavern. A well-dressed young man of average height and build swung down and surveyed the hostelry with studied arrogance.

  The coach driver and the other occupants set about unloading, but the young man threw a coin to the driver and waited for his trunks to be handed down. Pocketing the coin and delivering the trunk to the porch, the driver wiped his nose with the back of his hand and eyed his wealthy passenger.

  “Be there anythin’ else you need?”

  “The boat maker you mentioned, he is close by?”

  “Down to the river, bottom of the hill here. Don’t know that she took my advice, though. ’Twas late in the season.”

  “I thank you for your time.” Another coin exchanged hands, the grizzled driver tipped his hat and returned to his tasks, while the young man entered the tavern.

  A short while later, with his luggage and room arranged, the new arrival set out in the direction indicated. Thinning dark blond hair waved fashionably above a sloping forehead. Despite the exigencies of travel, his expensively tailored suit clung to rounded shoulders and trim waist. The caped greatcoat over his shoulders created a dashing effect better suited to a large city than a frontier town.

  As he walked, he mentally counted the coins remaining to him. His debts had been such that he had found it difficult to borrow cash, even from his father. The supply was dwindling rapidly. Information had a high price, but it would be worth it in the end. By now she should be more than grateful to be rescued from barbarian society.

  The widow’s weeds he’d been told she was wearing puzzled him, but they certainly made it easier to trace her. The boat maker remembered her instantly.

  “Quiet lady, real respectable-like. Shouldn’t ’a been traveling alone. Thought she was a widow, though.” The old man looked at the younger with a hint of suspicion.

  “She nearly was. I have only just regained my health and returned home to find myself declared dead. You can imagine how I felt when I learned my poor wife had fled in grief to her father. I must find her and bring her home.”

  The boat man accepted that story with a shrug. With his finger he indicated the direction of the keelboat captain who had agreed to take on a passenger for one final run downriver.

  When located, the keelboat captain grinned while the fashionable young dandy repeated his story. “Sure, I remember the lady. Didn’t take the ride well; sicker than a dog most days. I’ll take you down to where I left her off for thirty dollars.” He watched as the young man grasped the bait.

  Edward Beauchamp III accepted the captain’s offer with satisfaction. Alicia had never been sick a day in her life. The widow’s weeds began to make sense. A hasty calculation told him if his guess were correct, she ought to look like a pear by now. She would be more than eager to take his name before the child was born.

  Eying the icy floodwater of the Ohio, he inquired, “How long does it take to where you left her?”

  The keelboat captain looked out over the swollen river and spat. “A month maybe, if the river don’t kill ya.”

  Alicia and Travis spurred their horses across the open plain beyond the city limit, in the direction of the land Travis wished to look at. A wet March wind whipped her hat and hair, Alicia raised her eyes to the road ahead, daring her steed to fly faster than the stallion Travis had begged, borrowed, or stolen.

  They had long ago lost sight of the wagon rattling along behind them. As they approached a grove of oaks just around the bend, Travis gave his mount full rein, and the stallion thundered across the finish line with several lengths to spare.

  He brought his horse to a rearing halt and waited with a grin for Alicia to catch up with him. Far from being irate at his ungentlemanly display, she laughed and eyed his horse with admiration.

  “If that is the kind of horse you mean to breed, you should be eminently successful.”

  Swinging from the saddle, Travis caught her by the waist and hauled her down against him. His kisses tumbled what remained of her pins to the ground, and hat and hair fell in disarray about her shoulders. Alicia’s protest did not last beyond the fervent press of his lips against hers. With joyous abandon she clung to his shoulders and returned his kiss with an excitement that increased each time he touched her.

  Reminded by a horse’s snort that they were not alone, Travis returned her to the soggy ground and gathered the reins of both horses, leading them off the road out of the mist and into the protection of the oak grove.

  “I would like to know what story you have told my father that he so foolishly allows you to accompany me with Auguste and Becky as chaperones. He is not normally so gullible.” Alicia fumbled with the tangle of her hair, searching for the few stray pins that remained.

  “He wishes me to buy land close by. I thought offering to bring my groom along a rather gallant gesture,” Travis said with a mocking air of ruffled dignity.

  “A groom who is terrified of horses?” Alicia laughed at his aggrieved expression. With a daring she had learned these past weeks, she caressed his sharp cheekbone.

  With the horses tied and content, Travis circled her waist and buried his face in the thick mass of hair at her nape. His other hand slid down her back to the curve of her buttocks.

  “A groom terrified of horses is as good as a maid who cannot tell the front from the back of a corset,” he murmured.

  “Who told you that?” Alicia gasped, as much from the sensation of his hand on her tender seat as at this outrageous piece of information.

  “A little bird told me. Is that why you wear none now?” he inquired, his hand sliding beneath her heavy riding jacket to the linen shirt beneath.

  “Travis!” Alicia struggled against his prying fingers, but the desire to feel his hands on her was stronger than her protest, and she leaned into his embrace. “Becky shouldn’t tell such things.”

  “Becky didn’t. Do you think I am quite blind?” Travis leered convincingly. He found the fastenings beneath the lacy jabot, and in seconds his hand had invaded her shirt. “It was an unfair advantage. I could have fallen from my horse just watching you bounce.”

  “Oh, you are a terrible, terrible person!” Alicia squirmed with embarrassment and pleasure as his hand took liberties.

  “That will teach you to hire useless maids,” Travis whispered as he removed her coat and flung it aside. Before Alicia could escape to retrieve it, he divested her of her unfastened shirt, and the cool spring breeze blew over her skin.

  Alicia did not feel the chil
l. The heat of Travis’s gaze warmed her to the bone and set small fires in her belly. So seldom could they find these moments alone that she reveled in each one. Never before, though, had they enjoyed the light of day. It was wickedly naughty, but she could not have denied him had she wanted.

  Covering the damp grass with a horse blanket, they fell upon it, discarding clothes that hampered eager caresses. The shoulders of Alicia’s chemise fell away. Her skirts followed, riding up about her waist.

  Alicia arched against him, wanting his desire, wanting the surge of his sex against her. She boldly explored the taut line of his trousers. Travis groaned, and in an instant he was yanking off the offending clothing.

  Lying beneath him, Alicia gazed in awe at the masculine physique displayed. He was as much one with this natural environment as the ram in the herd in the far field, and he possessed her with the same urgency.

  All doubt fled as Travis showed her once again how completely he could pleasure her. With delighted abandon she rose to meet him equally, and together they found that sweet release they craved.

  As Travis withdrew, spilling his seed upon the grass, Alicia wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close, seeking to return to that fiery warmth he had taken away. His kisses did not serve to fill the emptiness within her, and a small tear rolled from the corner of her eye.

  Travis found its track and fingered it, lifting himself on one elbow to gaze into her face with concern. “Is it something I have done? Have I hurt you?” Travis questioned, pulling the blanket’s edge around them.

  “I did not want you to stop,” Alicia admitted, turning away from that penetrating stare, not wanting him to know the intensity of her need.

  She did not succeed. He pressed a kiss against her temple. “When you are ready to be my wife, when you are certain that you will welcome my child, you need only tell me yes, and I will not stop, Alicia. I do not want to take your choice from you.”

  She shivered as he lifted himself to brush her skirts into place. “What if I cannot have children, Travis? What if I lose them all like the last? Or if the fever has made me barren like my mother? What will happen then?”

  Travis gathered her in his arms, pulling her on top of him and covering her hair and face with kisses. “Do not bring troubles before their time, my darling. We have many years to make children, and if it is not to be, it could be as much my fault as yours. As far as I am aware, I have never fathered a child. Perhaps it would be better if we should not. The world is an unhappy place sometimes, and there are so many children out there who have no homes or families. Your little Penny was lucky to have grandparents. Many others do not. We can always have children if you want, Alicia.”

  Alicia relaxed in his strong hold. “You would not mind if you have no son to carry on your name?” she asked.

  Just a hint of bitterness touched his reply. “It may be better if I did not. My existence creates enough problems. I suspect both families would be relieved should the line end with me.”

  “Travis!” Shocked, Alicia stared down into his closed face, trying to understand what his life must have been like, but failing as usual. “You cannot believe that.”

  Naked, he needed only war paint to complete the image of a savage. The taut muscles of his jaw emphasized high cheekbones and black eyes, and there was nothing of gentleness in his expression.

  “Believe it, Alicia. My father’s family was more than relieved by my decision to return to my Indian life, and my mother’s family did not mourn my loss when I left. You will have no interfering in-laws to contend with. Letitia’s story to the contrary, you are not marrying into any family at all, just the lone black sheep.”

  Being an outcast for no reasons of his own seemed terribly sad, and Alicia curled against his shoulder, wishing she could offer him what his family did not.

  “Red sheep,” she corrected mockingly. “And even had you loving family all over New York or Boston or wherever, they would all be too far away for me to meet, so it matters not. Should we not dress before Becky and Auguste arrive?”

  “By now they will have decided we are lost and will be consuming our lunch. We will have to go back and find them—when we are ready.”

  As he drew her across him and his lips consumed hers, Alicia realized lunch would be long gone before they were ready to find it.

  Chapter 25

  “I have received a reply from your bankers, but not from your father’s agents.” Chester Stanford struck a light with his flint and applied it to his pipe as he regarded his daughter’s tall fiancé.

  Garbed in buckskin and linen, Travis stood without concern before the desk. “The blockade in New York harbor will prevent any quick correspondence with England. I daresay your letter has rattled my father’s agents into a state of confusion, and they will not know how to respond without his consent. They have not heard from me in some considerable time.”

  From beneath heavy brows, Chester studied the younger man’s easy nonchalance and gave a mental nod. He no longer doubted Travis’s claim. Lord Royster had visited Philadelphia on several occasions. He remembered him well enough to see many of the same mannerisms in his son. The looks obviously favored the mother more, but he could see Royster about the nose and eyes. The arrogance, of course, was all Royster. Damned British aristocrats, always looking down their noses at the “colonists,” even when one was his son.

  “Don’t see how Madison can tolerate any more British insolence. He’ll be looking to reenact the embargo soon, I don’t doubt. And if the war hawks have their way, we’ll see war by year’s end. Whose side will you be on then?” Chester drew deeply on his pipe, savoring the smoke before releasing it into the air. He left the young pup standing, knowing Alicia would arrive any minute.

  “My own,” Travis responded cynically. “I can’t see that either government has done me any favors. British insolence may be intolerable, but American bigotry killed my mother and my friends. An army that assumes all Indians are killers is not organized to protect the citizenry, but to espouse racism. If anything, my sympathies lie with Tecumseh, but I will not go to war for him either. I will fight only to protect what is mine.”

  Alicia drifted into the room. “The whole town is talking of Tecumseh’s threats to raise an Indian nation. That thought is frightening enough, but his brother’s predictions have made everyone uneasy. I cannot believe anyone can make the earth tremble or the sun go dark, but you must admit the portents are frightening. First, the terrible cold, then the floods. We have had no spring. Is this normal out here?”

  Travis had not known she was there until she spoke. Claiming her hand, he tucked it into the crook of his arm. “After a harsh winter it is normal for rivers to flood. That takes only common sense. Admittedly, the rains on top of the heavy snows make things uncomfortable this spring, but fluctuations in rainfall are common.”

  Chester watched the two of them together and smiled. Perhaps he had been hasty in forcing this marriage, but from the looks of it, he had decided rightly. They made a striking pair, both tall and well favored, Alicia’s fair complexion contrasting nicely with Travis’s dark one. They would give him handsome grandchildren. “Are you still planning on going downriver to your new farmhouse? The weather does not look promising.”

  “The journey by boat will be a short one,” Travis explained, “and the cabin is secure should it rain. I have Chouteau’s old carriage down at the farm to take us back. That will probably be as quick as poling upriver against a flood. The distance is not great.”

  Alicia put the stamp of finality on it. “I have to see the house so I know which furniture to ask Aunt Clara to send. And measurements will have to be made for draperies and things. Travis can’t be expected to know what a house needs.”

  Chester shrugged in surrender. “Heaven forbid that I should stand between a woman and nest feathering. Just have her back here by dark. You are taking that maid of yours, aren’t you?”

  “Of course, Papa.” Alicia kissed her fathe
r’s cheek and triumphantly allowed Travis to escort her from the house. These hours stolen from prying eyes were too precious to be postponed by acts of nature as insignificant as a little rain. She had a decision to make, and only these hours gave her time to learn more of this man who wished her to share his life. Gazing up at Travis’s strong profile, Alicia felt the quickening of her heartbeat. The decision had already been made, it needed only to be told.

  Becky appropriated the seat beside Auguste in the Stanford carriage that was to take them to the river. The late March weather was still cold, and heavy, metallic gray clouds boiled up from the horizon and across the sky, but the wind held a hint of spring and a few brave daffodils decorated the lawns they passed by. In the shelter of sunny walls, forsythia bloomed, and Alicia crowed ecstatically at these certain signs of spring.

  Feeling her anticipation, Travis began to grow nervous. Alicia was a city child, accustomed to the comfortable mansions and amenities of civilization. How would she view the farmhouse and acres of empty land he had chosen for his home? In front of her father, she played the part of eager bride. Only he knew that she had not yet agreed to be wife in fact. They never discussed it. Once she saw the kind of life he meant to live, would she reject the solitude of rural living? To keep her, could he give up his dream and settle for the city?

  Not daring to hope, not daring to think at all, Travis escorted the small group onto the waiting keelboat and directed the crew to make preparations for departure. Glancing at the lowering clouds, Travis led Alicia to the comfort of the cabin.

  “The river is rough. I will have to remain with the men,” he explained when she protested.