The Kiss of a Rogue

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Adam had to fight not to let a blind rage overtake him. "Does Miss Northrup know this?"

  "I do not know." Hunt picked up an oar. "Likely so, but given what news this morning's letter contained, the family has the impression that she is attempting to deny or at least delay what they see as the inevitable. Namely her marriage to Burleigh. Miss Northrup has ignored her family's letters and their repeated pleas for her to return to Plymouth so that they might settle things with Mr. Burleigh. Apparently the income from that shipping contract holds the key to the Northrup family future and fortunes, which are not quite as flush as they once were."

  "Her fortune and dowry don't matter to me." To Adam, they truly never had and they never would.

  "I don't imagine so," Hunt agreed easily. "But there is more to these contracts than just coin. They also hold the key to Mr. Burleigh's ambitions. The man is unimaginably wealthy and can purchase just about anything he wishes, save for a title, and even that might yet be possible if he drops enough coin in Prinny's hands. Coin he does not currently have but could very soon. Coin enough to buy him a very high title indeed."

  "But not a dukedom?" At the moment, the fact that Adam was a duke was the only point in his favor most days. This Burleigh fellow might not be titled yet, but he could certainly buy a title for himself if he had the funds - or trade ships, something else Prinny was eagerly seeking out these days. There were also at least four ducal titles that had reverted to the Crown in recent years. Though it was unlikely, it was still possible that, if he was paid enough, Prinny would hand out a dukedom to this man Burleigh and let tradition go hang. After all, if the price was right, anything was possible, especially for their very mercenary Prince Regent. And anyway, rules were made to be broken.

  Lord knows that Adam had broken more than enough rules himself.

  Hunt shook his head, his eyes flicking about to make certain no one else was listening. "Not likely. There was talk some weeks ago about the Carstairs dukedom being up for grabs from Prinny since it comes with a few rundown estates, some lingering debts, and a country seat that is worse off than my family's own Atherton Hall. So if nothing else, I would think that the Northrups would rather see their daughter become a duchess than simply be purchased by a man who views her as nothing more than a plaything and servant for his children."

  His mind awhirl, Adam attempted to process everything Hunt had just told him. Was this the reason Abigail was so insistent that he not wait to bed her? Moreover, if her family was pressuring her, why did she simply not tell him so? Was it because she had resolved to marry for love only? If so, that was utterly foolish, because clearly, she cared far more for Adam than she did for this Burleigh fellow. After all, she was not running back to Plymouth and asking him to deflower her. No, she was asking Adam. So obviously, she cared more for him than this other man, even though she had not given Adam any indication that she loved him. To be fair, he had not given Abigail any such indication either, for he wasn't certain that what he felt for her was love.

  Why did everything in his life have to be so bloody difficult? Why could things not just be simple for once? However, he could not think on the issue over much at the moment. There was a competition to win.

  Adam was also quickly coming to the conclusion that over-thinking matters was highly overrated. Perhaps quick action was a better choice. After all, he had done little more than think since he had arrived at Fairhaven and it had gotten him exactly nowhere.

  "Thank you, Hunt," Adam finally managed. "I shall need to speak with Miss Northrup. But later. When this competition is over."

  "Didn't meant to upset you," Hunt replied with a frown, "but I thought that you deserved to know and once we're done here? Go find her. Do not let this matter wait. It is far too important." There was something unreadable in the other man's eyes, as if he knew a similar loss and it pained him still to think about it.

  Adam nodded as he picked up his own oar. "I understand. And again, thank you."

  Then he followed Hunt over to the others so that they could push the boat into the water and climb aboard. Adam had a new determination to win the Fairhaven Cup. He wanted to prove to Abigail that out of the two men, he was the best choice to become her husband. It shouldn't have even been a contest. After all, he was a duke. But then, he was also known as the Dastardly Duke, so it was difficult to be certain how a man like Henry Northrup would react to Adam courting his daughter. There was a time not so long ago that titles made up for a great deal of sins. In Adam's situation at least, that was no longer the case.

  However, as the cool lake water hit his feet, Adam stopped thinking of Abigail and her father and Burleigh - at least for the moment. Instead, he focused on being one with the water, just as he had back at Eton, and feeling it ebb and flow around him. Without conscious thought, he climbed into the boat along with his fellow rowers and settled in. Berkshire, who was the least accomplished rower of the group, sat at the head of the boat facing the others so that he could guide the team and call out directions as necessary.

  This might have been a scaled down version of a long-standing tradition, but for Adam, it was far more important to him than any contest he'd ever participated in before. He needed to prove something, not just to Abigail and the other spectators, but to himself as well. He needed to prove that he was worthy of someone like Abigail, and that he was worthy to regain his place in Society. Because until the moment when Hunt mentioned another suitor for Abigail's affections, Adam hadn't thought himself worthy. He had simply hoped and prayed that he could become worthy in time. However, he now truly believed he was already worthy. He simply hadn't allowed himself to believe it before this day. Though he still felt the need to prove it to everyone - himself included - one last time.

  Standing there under the blistering hot sun listening to Lord Hunt, something had shifted within Adam and it had somehow renewed his own sense of self. If he wanted the lady, he would have to fight for her, and in that moment, he truly believed that he could win her hand, despite her overall objections to marriage. Adam was worthy of Abigail. In fact, he was worthy of the good regard of these people, too. Yes, he had made mistakes, but he was atoning for them. He was doing better. And he had defied convention by fighting for his sister's long-term happiness, even if she didn't yet realize it. He was not a perfect man, certainly, but he was a good man. And shallow as it might seem, if he helped Fairhaven with the Cup, that would go a long way with the assembled guests to restoring his position among them.

  When the crack of the starter's pistol split the air, Adam drew in a deep breath and as the boat shoved off from land, he began to row for all he was worth. He concentrated on his breathing and the movement of his arms. He imagined the long, thin craft gliding almost effortlessly over the water, just as he had so long ago at Eton. It was something he had been unable to do well in practice, but he had been distracted then. He had been uncertain about Abigail. And about his sister. His mother. Society as a whole.

  He was no longer any of those things. He knew his place. He knew he was worthy. Yes, there was still work to do, but he would do it. He was not some evil, awful monster of a man who deliberately hurt people and destroyed lives. He was a flawed man, but one with a good heart. Even if he made mistakes along the way. Moreover, he was finally at peace with himself.

  That knowledge made Adam stronger and more focused. He could do this. He would not let his teammates down. For the first time in nearly eighteen years, he would help Fairhaven win back the cup that bore its name.

  To his right, he heard the oars from the Crestfield boat splash loudly in the water. They were being clumsy and when he cracked open an eye, he saw that it was because their boat was falling behind. But Adam refused to think of them. Instead, he only thought of his strokes, steady and sure. He listened for Berkshire's voice calling out occasional instructions. Then, finally, he felt the bump of the boat against land and a cheer erupt to his left. It was over. Fairhaven had won the first contest in the quest for the Cup. />
  As he climbed out of the boat, Adam was greeted by many of the guests who had not spoken to him since he had arrived. Today however, they were full of smiles and continually clapped him on the back, telling him what a masterful performance everyone on the Fairhaven team had done but how his was particularly outstanding. They remarked upon how intensely he concentrated and how at times it seemed as if he was single handedly propelling the boat through the water.

  Someone offered him a glass of cold lemonade, which he pushed away and was thankful that all of his teammates did the same. In his experience, drinking or eating anything just before swimming caused him to cramp up horribly. He did not wish to risk losing the tournament simply because of ill-timed refreshments. Then a group led by Baron Makesford surrounded the rowers and they all began recounting the moments in the boat that had led to their success.

  However, Adam had little time to bask in the praise of his fellow guests, for Crestfield, eager to win the swimming relay and thus force a third and as yet undecided competition, wished to use only the minimum half hour of rest in between games. They were clearly a bit perturbed at the idea they had lost and wanted to even things up as quickly as possible.

  If Adam had his way, if Fairhaven was even close to being in the lead when his leg of the swimming relay came up, they would not lose. He would not allow it.

  He only managed to catch a brief glimpse of Abigail in the crowd. She was standing between Lady Enwright and Lady Charlotte, but it was clear she had been watching him the entire time. He wondered if she knew how obvious her gaze was, especially to Lady Charlotte who looked at her friend rather speculatively. Still, he silently vowed to seek her out afterwards, the risks of doing so be damned. He was not about to allow his life to be cowed by Society any longer.

  Adam managed one last glimpse back to the shore before he joined his fellow competitors in the boat that would take them out to the various points along the lake where small buoys had been tied to heavy rope lines strung across the lake, one line for each team. At the appropriate location, one of the men would dive over the side of the boat and swim to the buoy. He would cling to the floating object until he was to swim his leg of the race, thereby conserving strength and energy so that no one risked their life. Actually, Adam thought that there were far easier ways to accomplish the same thing, but tradition was tradition after all, and this was one tradition he was not about to question.

  When it came his turn, he slowly rose so as not to capsize the boat - thereby sending one of Enwright's servants into the water - and dove in, making it to his buoy in only three short strokes. When the boat departed to return to shore, Adam closed his eyes and once more felt the cool water flow around him as the merciless sun beat down on his face, his body a mix of fire and ice. It was deuced uncomfortable, which was the way he preferred it. If he was too comfortable, he would not push himself, and right now, the success or failure of this race rested largely upon his shoulders. He needed to be on his game.

  Once more, the starter's pistol cracked through the air and in the distance, Adam saw Hunt, who was one of the strongest swimmers at Eton in his day, run and dive into the water. The man from Crestfield followed behind, but it was clear early on that Hunt's long, powerful arms were slicing through the water much faster than the other man's could. As the swimmers progressed across the lake, Adam made certain to keep himself calm. The lake was extremely deep and in the distance he could see several boats already starting across the water to pick up the swimmers who had finished their portion of the race. It was distracting - as it was meant to be - but instead, Adam concentrated only on the feel of the water.

  Then, he saw Strathaven approaching, cutting a clean straight line through the dark water. It was time. Once in position, Adam waited for the slap on the back from the other man that would indicate it was time for him to take off. To his left, he could see Lord Bathgate waiting for Crestfield's swimmer who was farther behind than Strathaven was. Except that in all of his time at Eton, Bathgate was the one man that Adam had never beaten in a race. The man was an utter beast at swimming. However, this time, Adam was determined not to loose.

  When he felt the hand across his back, Adam took off as quickly as he could, his arms not as powerful as some swimmer's but his shoulders so broad that his strokes were far longer. Out of the side of his eye, he could see Bathgate take off too, the man quickly eating up the distance between himself and Adam.

  With renewed drive, Adam swam harder. He could see the shoreline ahead of him and a crowd of well-wishers at the end of both ropes that were also serving as guides so that the men did not crash into each other. They were cheering on their respective houses like mad people, showing a complete lack of decorum and propriety. Adam would have laughed were he not in the middle of one of the most difficult swims of his life.

  To his left, he could see the tips of Bathgate's fingers. The man was gaining on him, blast it all! Adam swam harder, allowing himself to become one with the water, just as he had back at school. He stopped fighting and over-reaching, instead allowing the water to glide along the length of his body, letting the small flow of current push him along instead of battling against it. Then, to his amazement, Bathgate's fingers disappeared from his field of vision. Adam was pulling away, and rather easily from the sounds of the people on the shore.

  The moment his feet made contact with the mucky, murky bottom, Adam shot to his feet and ran up the embankment, charging directly towards the length of dark blue ribbon stretched between the hands of two of Fairhaven's servants. He needed to be the first to break through the ribbon. When Adam did so, with Bathgate only just managing to heave himself out of the water at that point, he felt as if he had not only won the Fairhaven Cup, but that he had won back something far more important as well - the respect of his fellow peers.

  Now if only he could win Abigail as well, all would be right with his world.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Adam was somewhere in the crowd of well-wishers that surrounded him, but Abigail could not see him to save his life. Then again, he was being hailed as "The Hero of Fairhaven" by one and all, including the guests from Crestfield who had been invited to join the house party for one night of dancing and celebration in Fairhaven's massive ballroom.

  Actually, it was two ballrooms put together, which had surprised everyone when Lord and Lady Enwright had their staff strip away the wall decor only to reveal that the far wall that linked the two room was actually a series of panels on tracks that could be pushed back to create one massive ballroom out of the two smaller ones.

  It was endlessly clever and, according to Lord Enwright, was based upon a design that his father had seen in China years ago and had somehow convinced Persian artisans to adapt for his country seat. In fact, it would have been the talk of the ball that night, except for Adam's masterful performance during the races earlier in the day.

  In fact, few people could talk about anything or anyone else and Abigail was beginning to wonder if, now that Adam had seemingly regained his place in Society, he would even bother to speak with her any longer. She didn't think he was truly that sort, but then again experience had taught her that members of the peerage often said one thing but then did quite the opposite. Especially lords where women like Abigail were concerned. She might be a wealthy heiress, but she was not truly one of them, and that was something that Adam couldn't forget, especially tonight as he had more blue-blooded bosoms pressed into his chest than he likely had in years. If ever.

  Tonight, everyone wanted even just a tiny piece of the man who had brought the Fairhaven Cup back to its rightful place and now all but fought for a place by his side. It simply annoyed Abigail that she had not been among them.

  Oh, she had enjoyed a nice enough evening, dancing with several titled gentlemen, including Lord Strathaven who was extremely complimentary and seemed a bit interested in becoming better acquainted with her. She had also danced with Lord Blackmore who seemed to divide his attention between his current d
ancing partner and Lady Sophia for some odd reason. Lord Bathgate, who had accepted his defeat at Adam's hands rather gracefully, had been her latest partner. He wasn't quite as honorable as some of the men she had met, hinting that if she wished for a position as his mistress that he was more than amenable to the idea, but he had a quick wit and was tolerable enough for the duration of a country dance.

  However, none of the men were Adam and he was the man she most wished to see. For she had decided that she needed to tell him about Mr. Burleigh and Mama and Papa's wish that she wed him. She had come to that decision as she watched Adam rowing across the lake earlier in the day. She knew that it could not have been easy for him to join the other men in the competition. After all, despite the gains he had made in restoring his reputation, not all was forgiven. Yet he had joined in anyway. He had been brave in the face of adversity.

  How could she offer him anything less from her herself?

  Before he bedded her, Adam deserved to know the truth, even if it cost her the promised night in his bed. He needed to know about the other man and she needed to be the one to tell him. If she did not? Well, Miss Cutwright had finally managed to make it downstairs, and she had made it clear to Abigail that she wished to depart the house party before the grand masquerade ball. It was very likely that sooner rather than later, Miss Cutwright would announce to all and sundry that Abigail had a suitor back in Plymouth. One that she was all but betrothed to. Once that happened, all would be lost.