by Dawn Brower
Alys shook her head. For some reason, everything swam before her. A hammer seemed to pound against her skull—something wasn’t right. She needed her purse. She’d have something in there to help whatever was going on. If she could get through the day, she could spend a week in bed if necessary. Please, let me see Regina’s wedding until the end...
Alys followed everyone out blindly. She wanted a few minutes to herself. Maybe she could take a breath and find that time inside the manor. The people around her suffocated her, and she still couldn’t get over Bradford’s attitude. He would have ruined Regina’s wedding for a brief affair. Who was this man? How had he come to discard love so easily? Jaded, cynical, and one of the current rogues in England—Dover, to be more precise—Bradford did what he wanted and didn’t give it a second thought. Alys shouldn’t have been surprised at his words, yet she couldn’t help feeling disappointed at the same time.
He was right about one thing. Alys did read a lot. She loved romance novels and had a soft spot for the rogues written on the pages. She wanted a rogue of her own, provided he left his scandalous past behind and promised to love her forever. That’s part of what had attracted her to Bradford. He’d reminded her of a romantic hero. Too bad he turned out to be a bad seed all around and in love with her sister. He claimed he only lusted after her, but Alys didn’t believe it was just that. The duke had protested too much. Bradford wasn’t the rogue for her.
Maybe someday she would get her wish and find the rogue meant only for her. Doubtful…
She walked up to her room and grabbed her heavy purse, sliding the strap over her shoulder. It had everything she could possibly need in it. If she could have taken it down the aisle with her, she would have. It relieved her to have it with her. Alys liked to be in control as much as possible. She hated to be unprepared for anything. So she carried a purse filled with items that could potentially solve any problem that might arise. Not everything was so easily fixed, she knew that, but it didn’t stop her from trying. Her purse was a kind of security blanket. It made her feel like she could do anything. Plus, it had one very important item inside: her reading tablet.
I better get down to the reception before someone misses me.
Once outside, she breathed in the fresh air. The cliffs alongside the large manor were breathtaking. Maybe she could take a minute to enjoy the sea before returning to the party. She made a beeline toward the cliff’s edge. When she got there, she stopped and absorbed the view. So beautiful... As much as she loved it though, she had obligations she needed to see to. Her sister would never forgive her if she bailed on the rest of her big day. Alys turned, took two steps and stopped.
Was that a white rabbit at the edge? The poor thing was going to fall off. Maybe she should shoo it away. Alys, dazed, stumbled toward it. It was so blurred... Why did everything suddenly look so hazy?
That was the last thought she had before the wind was knocked out of her. Her feet slipped and her arms flailed against the breeze, desperate for something to grab onto. She kept falling and falling... Only one thing going through her mind—Damn rabbit’s fault. She was about to die.
SEARCHING FOR MY ROGUE
CHAPTER TWO
September 5, 1815
Moonlight acted as his guide as the boat moved across the English Channel. The trip home both grueling and exhausting, James couldn’t get there soon enough. A deep burn filled his gut as he stretched. The wound on his side ached with each movement.
Bloody hell...
In the distance, he could see the shoreline. Soon, he’d be able to crawl into his own bed. France could go to the devil. The battle at Waterloo had left its mark on his soul. If he wanted a reminder, all he would have to do is look down on the jagged protruding scar on his abdomen. The images swam before his eyes—all the death, blood, and agony screaming through his mind.
If only he could forget...
To think many considered him lucky. The battle hadn’t ended for him when the cease-fire had been called. It began when a saber slid into him, leaving a trail of blood and pain in its wake. The sawbones hadn’t thought he’d make it through the night, but James had a mind of his own. He hadn’t wanted his life to end on a dirty cot in the middle of a foreign countryside. For the first month, fever had raced through him as his body fought off the infection raging through his body. He’d finally been able to sit up and feed himself when news of his brother’s death reached him—his presence was demanded back in England.
His boat hit the beach along the cove. James jumped out and attempted to pull it farther onto the beach. He fell backward, hitting the sand with a hard thud.
“Bloody rotten piece of...”
James stopped short of wishing it to fall into oblivion. It wasn’t the boat’s fault he wasn’t at full strength. He’d leave it where it was and have a servant deal with it once he returned to Weston Manor.
With a deep breath in, then out again, James calmed himself.
“No time like the present to go home.” And fall into a warm comfortable bed and sleep for a week. Crossing through France to get home had been treacherous even though Napoleon had been defeated at Waterloo. Smugglers still used the channel to import illegal goods and most of them didn’t have any qualms about dispatching witnesses into the great beyond.
James took several steps along the sandy beach, stopped, and stared down the path leading to the caves built into the cliff. Someone was sprawled across the ground outside the entrance. Weary, and mistrustful, James took slow steps toward the entrance. He wouldn’t put it past someone to be lying in wait to accost him before he made it home.
He closed in and kneeled before the person lying before him. Why, it was a woman… James placed his fingers at the base of her neck—a steady pulse beat against his skin. She was alive at least.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Bradford?”
Who the hell was Bradford? Was he responsible for the lady’s condition? What kind of bastard would abandon a lady on the beach for anyone to find? James would have to take her up to Weston Manor.
“Miss, do you think you can walk?”
Please be able to walk... James wanted to help her, but his strength wasn’t what it should be. He’d only had six weeks of healing before he’d been summoned home. The trip left him weaker than he’d like.
“I don’t know… Where am I?” she mumbled, her eyes drifting closed. “Help me.”
He nodded, though she didn’t see him. “I will. Tell me who can I contact to let them know you’re all right?”
“Weston.” The word was barely coherent.
James stumbled back, startled at her words. Did she know his brother? Was she in search of him? Had she actually said, Edward, not Bradford? Her words were so garbled he could have heard her wrong. She couldn’t be looking for him; James had never set eyes on her before.
“Miss...” James shook her. Her eyes opened into tiny slits. “What’s your name? Do you know my brother, Edward?”
Her eyes fluttered closed, but not before she muttered, “Alys”
She didn’t deny knowing Edward, but she hadn’t admitted it either. “Well, Alys, I will make sure you get up to the manor. We can sort this out later.”
He glanced around the area. A pair of shoes like he’d never seen before lay near her feet. They had spikes at least three inches long on the end. How can she walk in those? She probably couldn’t, and that’s why they laid near her feet instead of on them. A bag was lying across her mid-section, the straps across her shoulder. Was she running away from something? He picked up the shoes and put them inside her bag. He couldn’t make out the contents in the dark. Perhaps he would take a look inside later. There might be some clues as to her identity and what she was after inside. When she was conscious he would question her further.
James stared down at her. He dreaded carrying her up through the tunnels to Weston Manor. The burning in his side intensified with each movement. It would only get worse if he were to lift her and carry her on the long
trek up the cliff, but he couldn’t leave her on the beach. He wrenched his arms underneath her lush frame and gathered her tightly against him. Her head fell onto his shoulder, cradling nicely in his embrace; it felt so…intimate.
Her eyes fluttered open and met his. They were a deep, rich green that seared his soul. “Thank you. Maybe you’re not so bad after all.” Her head lopped down on his shoulder, a long sigh escaping from her pretty pink lips. “Thought I was dead—maybe I am.”
Who the hell was she speaking of? The lady was clearly delusional. Perhaps she’d hit her head and was seeing things. James pushed it out of his mind. He would deal with it all later. He needed to get her up to the manor and fetch a doctor to take a look at her. She must have been injured.
The hike up the side of the cliff through the tunnels was grueling on a good day. On a dark night, with no lantern guiding him and a heavy parcel, it was ten times worse. Once he breached the top and pushed through the hidden entrance he had to set Alys down to catch his breath. Sweat poured down his face and his arms shook from the exertion. His goal was clear in his sight. The manor nearly glowed in the moonlight. He merely needed to get himself, and Alys, a little bit farther. James took a deep breath and picked her up again.
“Almost there, sweetheart.”
“You’re so warm. Don’t leave me here.”
James groaned. Poor thing—abandoned and cold on the beach. “Stay with me. I will fetch a doctor to look you over once we’re back at Weston Manor.”
“Because you want to show me the infamous gallery of Weston Manor, Your Grace?” Her lips tilted into a soft smile. “I’m not so easily seduced.”
James sucked in a breath. She was so lovely, but she wasn’t for him. James wasn’t in the market for a wife. She must have known Edward, and he didn’t want a woman already taken by his deceased brother. He’d see her taken care of and leave her alone. It was all he could offer her.
And why did she mention the gallery? She was talking nonsense again. Why would she want to look at the family portraits? James kept moving. He made it to the entrance and pounded on the door. It flew open and his gaze landed on the head butler. “Wilson, help me.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” He nodded. “How may I be of assistance?”
“The lady was on the beach.” James gestured toward the woman in his arms. “I need to get her settled. What room is immediately available?”
Wilson tilted his head. “There are only two chambers unoccupied and prepared.”
James raised an eyebrow. “She’s not as light as she looks, man. Which ones?”
“Yours and...”
James groaned. “Wilson, please, have mercy.”
“The other chamber is for the future Duchess of Weston. Your brother ordered it readied before he...”
“Say no more,” James stopped him. “I know where you’re going. It will have to do for now. I will take the young miss there. Send for a doctor to have her looked over.”
James carried her up the stairs and past the ducal chambers. He kicked open the door and strolled over to the bed. He laid her on top of the coverlet. A lantern would need to be lit so the doctor would have light to examine her. He located one on the table by the door. Once it was lit, a soft glow filled the room. James carried it over to the bed and set it on the nightstand. He stared down at Alys. His brother always did have good taste. Luxurious honey gold hair, soft pink lips, cheeks flushed with a rosy glow—Alys was simply exquisite. Too bad she could never be for him...
“Your Grace, I sent a footman for the doctor. Is there anything else I can do for you before he arrives?”
It was going to take a bit longer before he became used to his new title. Damn it, Edward, why did you have to go and get yourself killed? James didn’t want to be the bloody Duke of Weston. It came with way too many responsibilities. The second son wasn’t supposed to be tied down with the duties of the dukedom. With the death of his brother, he’d been left with little choice. His commission as a cavalry officer had to be resigned, and he headed home to take up the mantle his brother left for him.
“Have a bath set up for me in my chamber. I need to wash off the grit of the journey home.” He paused to regain some momentum. He was so tired. “Have my belongings been transferred? Oh, and before I forget, my boat is on the beach. Send someone down to anchor it.”
Wilson nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“What about a valet?” He’d had no use for one in battle, but as the Duke of Weston he would need one. “Is there someone here who can take over the duties for me?”
“Your brother’s valet is still in residence. Would you like me to wake him to attend to your needs?”
James shook his head. “No, don’t bother him tonight. Let him know I will need his services in the morning. Tonight, I only want to bathe and rest.” The last thing he needed to deal with was a well-meaning servant. He was more than capable of washing himself and dressing for bed. The valet would simply deal with taking care of his discarded clothes and organizing his belongings.
“Very well, Your Grace.” Wilson turned to leave. He halted in the doorway. “I will await the doctor in the parlor. One of the maids will bring up the hot water for your bath. I will instruct them to let you know when it’s fully prepared.”
James slumped down in a chair near the bed. “All right. I will wait here for now. I don’t want to leave her alone.”
“You should know that Rosanna is in residence. She arrived from London earlier this morning.”
James gaze flew to Wilson’s. He didn’t want to deal with his sister, but it looked like he didn’t have a choice. She was being sent off to finishing school the last time he saw her. “I take it she hasn’t found a suitor yet.”
“I wouldn’t presume to know, Your Grace. Perhaps it’s something she wants to discuss with you.”
James scrubbed his hands over his face. One more thing he’d never thought to deal with. His life was falling apart before his eyes—or at least the life he’d planned for himself. “Very well, Wilson. Do me a favor and don’t tell her I’ve arrived yet. I will deal with her once I’m fully rested.”
“As you wish.” Wilson inclined his head. “I will leave you with the young miss to await the doctor’s arrival.”
James shouldn’t be left alone with Alys. It wasn’t proper at all. The gossipmongers would shred them to pieces if they ever found out. Who was she? Would her family descend on him and demand he marry her? Hell, he should offer to do it. It was the right thing to do, but fool that he was, he wanted to pick his own wife. This lovely lady wasn’t meant for him—she already cared for another, and it wasn’t him.
Alys sighed and clutched her bag at her waist. Perhaps he should remove it. It couldn’t be comfortable wrapped around her petite frame. James stood and hobbled over to the bed. His side itched and burned with each movement. He hissed as pain shot through him, but ignored it as best he could. Alys rolled over, making it easier for him to untangle the bag from her shoulder. He yanked it and stumbled backward. The bag hit the floor, some of the contents spilling out. The strange shoes, a weird tube, and a set of keys—Alys moaned loudly diverting his attention so he shoved it all back inside.
Alys moaned again.
James rushed to her side. “Alys?”
Her sea-green eyes met his. “You’re a beautiful man. Have I ever told you that? No, why would I?” She cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand. “Tell me, do you still believe love is for fools?”
James sucked in a breath. “Yes, I do.” How had she known?
“Love is a dream—a whimsical journey constantly surprising you. It’s not meant for fools. At least, not in the way you believe. True love is a journey you willingly leap into.” She sighed. “You’ll see one day. I will help you.”
She pulled his head down and touched his lips to hers. Fire spread through him, lighting him up, burning him from the inside out—he had to stop her. He stumbled backward, putting distance between them. When he looked back d
own at her, her eyes were closed again.
“What kind of madness is she driving me to?”
“Your Grace, the doctor is here.” Wilson called from the entrance.
“Very well. I will be in my chambers if you need me.”
James hurried out of the room. His breathing heavy and tapered with each step he took. That had been way too close. What was the chit after? Was she truly mad, or did she believe he was his brother? An easy mistake to make—they were identical twins.
Oh, Edward, why did you have to die?
James punched the wall. He slid to the floor and cradled his head in his hands. Tears he hadn’t allowed himself before fell down his cheeks. His body shook, he groaned as agony overtook him. So much loss, too much responsibility, and not enough of him to go around—weariness set through him.
A bath was suddenly too much for him to bear. He told the maid to leave it until morning. He needed to rest. James’s life had just become inherently more difficult. He lusted after the woman he believed loved his brother. James could not, would not, give in to those urges.
He would take care of Alys, but he would not give her his heart. If he did, she’d own him. They hadn’t even had a real conversation—he doubted she’d even seen him when she opened her eyes. Whoever she had seen, he couldn’t live up to those expectations. She was wrong… Love, indeed, was for fools, and James would never play the fool.
SEARCHING FOR MY ROGUE
CHAPTER THREE
Clanking wood against wood filled the room. A light breeze blew over her, spreading a few strands of hair across her face to tickle her nose. Alys wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Who had opened the damn window?
Alys rolled onto her side and groaned. The ache burned through her shoulders and hips. Her head had needles being pounded deep inside with a sledge hammer. Kill me now. She stretched her arms above her head to get the kinks out. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest. What had she done at Regina’s wedding?
