Romancing the Rogue

by Kim Bowman

  Adam gave his head a frantic shake. “Lies! You lie!” he cried, his voice hoarse. They had to be lies, because if they weren’t, that would mean Georgina had been loyal to him and the Crown. That would mean when she’d insisted on her innocence she’d been telling the truth. And that would mean he had turned her over to Hunter’s clutches.

  Oh God, I’m going to be sick.

  “Back. We have to go back,” he rasped. “I left her with him.”

  Aubrey cursed and banged on the roof of the coach, calling out new orders.

  “You bloody fool!” the stranger shouted, his words nothing compared to the daggers of guilt knifing away at Adam’s insides.

  He pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes and tried to blot out the horror of what he’d done. This was so very different from the betrayal he’d felt when he’d learned of Georgina’s birth. This was a hell of his own making, born of his insecurities and unwillingness to see his wife for the beautiful gift she was. And because of it, he’d placed her life in the hands of that monster.

  Aubrey dropped a hand on his shoulder. “We will get her back.”

  “And, God willing, she’ll be alive,” the stranger spat.

  Adam’s heart shriveled in his chest.

  She has to be alive. She has to.

  She had to live because he needed to spend the rest of his life atoning for all the ways in which he’d wronged her.

  He closed his eyes and saw her as he’d left her — pleading with him in words and through the depth of emotion in her eyes to protect her.

  And what had he done? He’d walked out on her, abandoning her to the clutches of Hunter and Fox.

  His mind screeched a protest. Unable to bear the images he’d conjured, he banged his head against the back of the carriage in a slow, punishing rhythm. Fox would not kill her. He couldn’t kill her. What manner of man could? That was, if Georgina was even Fox’s daughter.

  His eyes popped open. “Is she the daughter of Fox?”

  The stranger spat on the carriage floor—a crass reminder of what he thought of Adam. “Is that all you care about?”

  “No. I...” At one time, that might have been the case. He swallowed hard, holding his palms up. “No, it isn’t.”

  Aubrey took mercy. “An anonymous informant has been notifying The Brethren of Emmet’s plots and plans for a number of years. This person identified Fox and Hunter as key figures for us to watch and follow.”

  Georgina.

  Georgina was the informant.

  “For years we’ve suspected Mrs. Markham’s loyalties were not her father’s. We’d purposefully arranged several missions over the years to ascertain her dependability.”

  Adam’s stomach tightened. Bennett and Fitzmorris had dismissed his claims that he’d been drugged and betrayed because they’d known it to be fact. Because they’d orchestrated his capture.

  As if sensing the direction of Adam’s thoughts, Bennett gave a curt nod. “We sent you in to determine her faithfulness to the Crown. There was another man before you.” He jerked his chin over at the stranger. “Nathaniel Archer was the first.”

  Adam looked at Archer, whose eyes brimmed with loathing. A disgusted laugh bubbled up from Adam’s throat. The other man couldn’t hate him any more than Adam hated himself.

  He pulled back the curtain, just as the warehouse came into focus.

  He didn’t give a damn about The Brethren or that they’d sacrificed his safety and well-being as part of a mission. There’d be time enough for those recriminations later… For now, all he cared about was getting his wife back.

  The carriage hadn’t even drawn to a stop when Adam opened the door and leaped to the ground. He faltered but was on his feet in moments and running toward the factory. The three men followed in his wake.

  The crack of a gunshot split the mundane street sounds, and he body jerked to a stop so suddenly that someone crashed into his back, nearly sending him pitching forward.

  The echo of the shot danced around his mind. Stars dotted his vision.

  Georgina!

  ~~~~

  Georgina knew particular things with complete certainty. The sun rose every morning. The sun set each evening. Men were driven by avarice and greed.

  Adam had walked out on Georgina, abandoning her to Jamie’s evil and, as Jamie tugged her through the empty warehouse, she faced another absolute certainty—her life was forfeit.

  Jamie stopped. Shoving her down atop a wooden crate, he said, “Sit!”

  Then like an evil spirit materializing through the fog, Father appeared. He didn’t so much as utter a greeting, and Georgina knew enough to remain silent and draw as little attention to herself as possible while Jamie and Father conversed.

  The occasional name fluttered to her ears. They mentioned France several times, and Georgina knew they were plotting their escape. She wasn’t so foolish as to believe they’d so freely talk in front of her. That is, unless they didn’t plan on her being alive much longer.

  Georgina used the time they spent in distracted conversation searching for anything with which to arm herself, focusing on survival, because if she didn’t, the hurt of Adam’s abandonment would destroy her faster than a bullet to the heart. Except the thought had crept in and there was no shaking it free.

  How easily he’d believed the worst in her. Just like everyone else in her life, he’d only seen her failures and shortcomings—in this case, her greatest crime was the blood in her veins. As much as she loved Adam, as much as she would fight the devil himself for him, she meant nothing to her husband.

  “You’ve disappointed me, daughter,” Father called out.

  Georgina’s lip curled, and she remained seated, hands folded atop her lap. “That is nothing new, Father.”

  He tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Your grandmother died at the hands of those English monsters. They took turns raping her and, even with that, you would betray me with the British. You would marry one of those bastards.”

  A pang lanced her heart. “What those men did to your mother was unpardonable, but not all Englishmen are like them. My husband is not like them.”

  He roared and made a grab for her, but Jamie stayed his efforts. Father was nearly frothing at the mouth. “You slut! All these years stealing information and sending it to the British.”

  Georgina sucked in a breath, and her gaze darted around in search of escape.

  Jamie continued to restrain him. Father fought against his hold but at his age, he was no match for Jamie’s strength. “Do you know what the best part is, daughter?”

  She met his gaze. “No, but I suspect you’ll tell me.”

  He licked his lips like a dog savoring a tasty morsel. “You aren’t even married to the bastard.”

  The ground went out from under her. She shoved herself to her feet. “Liar!”

  “You stupid chit! You married him before you were twenty without my consent.” He gave a mocking bow. “And I’d sooner send the both of you to the devil than consent to my whore daughter marrying an Englishmen who is trying to destroy the Irish republic.”

  Georgina folded her arms across her stomach, every muscle in her body tight with the ugly truth of his words. She’d never been married to Adam. She closed her eyes. How very glad he would be when he found out.

  “No! Georgie!” Jamie barked.

  Georgina’s eyes flew open.

  Her heart froze.

  Father leveled his pistol at her breast.

  “How does it feel knowing you spread your legs for the enemy, all without the benefit of marriage?”

  She’d always known he would eventually kill her but had hoped she would be brave when the time came. A shudder wracked her frame. Then another. And another.

  In spite of all the misery she’d known, she would always choose life. She wanted to live, to see Adam one more time, to smell the salty Bristol sea air. She didn’t want to die alone on this warehouse floor. She held out a hand. “Please, Father.”

  H
e slapped her across the cheek.

  Georgina landed hard on her knees. Blood trickled from the corner of her split lip. She scrambled away, attempting to put distance between them.

  Father laughed and kicked her in the small of her back.

  Georgina’s body screamed with agony. “Please help me.”

  Adam. God. Anyone.

  Father pressed the pistol against her temple.

  She closed her eyes, scenes playing out in her mind like a staged drama: Adam twirling her about his cell. Around the ballroom. Adam laying her tenderly on the bed, his eyes and body for her alone.

  The crack of a gunshot filled her ears.

  She touched her fingers to her head. There was no pain. Or blood.

  Her eyes flew open.

  The gun slipped from Father’s fingers as he crumpled to the floor.

  Georgina’s gaze fixed on the small round hole in his head.

  “I had to,” Jamie said, his voice hoarse. His gun remained pointed where her father had last stood.

  “Georgina!” Adam cried.

  Georgina fought back the cobwebs that cluttered her brain. Her eyes strayed back to Father’s dead body. Shouldn’t she feel more than this peculiar numbness?

  “Georgina!”

  There it was again. Adam’s voice.

  Jerking her eyes away from Father’s body, she searched for Adam.

  Except… why would Adam be here? Adam didn’t love her. He didn’t even like her.

  Adam charged forward. The emerald green of his irises sparkled with emotion.

  Tears flooded her eyes, blinding her. “Why are you here?” she called out.

  “I don’t want you,” Adam said. “Do you hear?”

  Her heart plummeted. His words cut through her like the tip of a rapier but then he stuck a finger in Jamie’s direction. “I want her,” Adam finished.

  Her ears were playing cruel tricks on her. In her plunge into madness, she had dreamed the possessive undertone to Adam’s pronouncement. Tears seeped down her cheeks and she let them fall, the salty drops filling her mouth, choking her with the bitter taste of regret.

  I want to go back to the first day. I want to walk into his chamber and tell him who I truly am. I want to begin without this wall of lies between us.

  Jamie’s already-fired pistol lay uselessly at his feet. “She’s mine,” he hissed.

  Adam waved the gun in his hand at Jamie’s chest. “By God, I’m not walking out of here without her by my side. Leave, Hunter, while you can.”

  A cold smile twisted Jamie’s handsome face into a mask of terror. “You’re going to have to kill me. Because I’m taking her. She belongs to me.” Jamie grappled for Georgina, and she shrank away from him.

  Adam cocked his pistol…

  Click.

  Jamie’s eyes widened. A demonic laugh ripped from his chest.

  Adam tried again. The useless weapon clicked.

  Georgina’s heart raced. She inched away from Jamie, seeming forgotten as he reached into his boot. Even in the dim warehouse, the silver handle of his pistol glinted.

  He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I told you she’s mine, Markham,” he said, glee laced his words. He pointed his gun at Adam’s chest, and the world came to a screeching, silent halt.

  Adam’s gaze alternated between her and the barrel of Jamie’s pistol. His throat bobbed up and down but was it fear? Regret?

  “Forgive me, Georgina,” he said hoarsely. “It was my duty to protect you.”

  Georgina shook her head, unable to speak past the emotion that clogged her throat. “No.” He couldn’t die. Not like this. Not at Jamie’s hands, attempting to rescue her. She didn’t want him to blame himself. Not if these were to be his final moments. “I love you, Adam.”

  Adam closed his eyes. “Georgina—”

  “Silence,” Jamie snapped, and waved the pistol from her to Adam as if he hadn’t yet made up his mind who he wanted dead first. “Don’t worry, Markham. I’ll take good care of your lovely wife. Wait a moment. How could I forget? She’s not your wife.”

  Fury sparked in Adam’s emerald gaze. “What are you talking about?”

  She inched closer, dimly registering Jamie’s words. So close. She was almost there.

  Jamie spoke, making her freeze. “Ahh, but then you don’t know. Of course you don’t.” Jamie inclined his head, gesturing broadly at Georgina with his free hand. “Why, you aren’t married.”

  Adam blanched. His skin went an ashen grey.

  She’d not allow Jamie the twisted joy in repeating the whole sordid story. “I had not yet reached my majority when we wed. We required my father’s consent.”

  Adam held her stare. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll marry again.”

  A sob bubbled up from her throat. Why would he marry her? Why, when he hated her so?

  Jamie roared, leveling his gun on Adam.

  Then the world righted and began spinning only this time it was moving out of control, in fast-moving circles. Georgina shoved to her feet. “No,” she cried, tripping over skirts in her haste to get to Adam. She leaped in front of him.

  The sharp retort of the pistol echoed off the warehouse rafters, followed by another, and another.

  Georgina’s body jerked in stunned surprise. Oh God. She’d always imagined her father and Jamie receiving the justice they deserved, but to witness it, to see her father fall beneath the weight of the bullet, and now…this. Jamie dying before her eyes. A sharp twinge in her chest made breathing difficult.

  Jamie clasped a hand to the blood blossoming on the front of his jacket as it turned the sapphire fabric black. “I love you,” he choked out. Blood spewed forth with his hideous pronouncement. He slumped to the ground, coughing and gurgling.

  Georgina swayed, lightheaded from the sight of Jamie dying. A stabbing pain radiated out to her chest.

  Adam took her against his side and pressed her face in his chest.

  Georgina pulled back as Jamie pitched forward.

  Dead.

  Chapter 28

  After he’d been taken captive, Adam had believed he wouldn’t know peace until Fox and Hunter were dead by his hand. Staring down at Hunter as the blood seeped from his pale, lifeless body, Adam realized the stark truth—killing them wouldn’t bring him peace.

  Only Georgina could do that.

  The duke shouted something.

  “What the hell took you so long?” Adam snapped.

  “Markham,” Aubrey murmured.

  Bennett strode through the room. “He’s dead,” he confirmed, jerking his head over to where Georgina’s father lay.

  Adam’s heart spasamed. He loathed Fox for the hell he’d put him through but now, the horror of his captivity seemed secondary to the love he had for Georgina. Fox was still her father and this was still a loss for her.

  He looked at her.

  She’d fixed her wide-eyed stare on Hunter’s dead body and clasped a hand to her chest.

  Adam frowned at the ashen hue of her skin and took a step toward her. “Georgina…”

  She pulled her fingers back. She stared unblinking, at a thick red stain on her fingers.

  A loud humming filled his ears. “Georgina?” he repeated, his voice came as if down a long hall.

  She held her bloody fingers toward him. Her beautiful bow-shaped lips formed a small moue of surprise. “I’ve been sho...” Her words trailed off as her eyes rolled back in her head.

  She collapsed.

  Adam caught her to him.

  His heart slowed to a halt then picked up a pounding, hard rhythm. He lowered her to the floor and, with shaking fingers, explored the blood-soaked fabric, searching for a pulse.

  No. No. No. No. No.

  He struggled to breathe.

  Ah, God, no. Please, I can’t…

  He found her heartbeat; threadbare and slow but still beating. Adam yanked his cravat off and pressed it against the steady outpouring of blood, trying in vain to stem the flow.

  There w
as so much of it.

  “Help,” he cried out. “She needs a doctor.”

  He swiped his blood-stained fingers over his face. He’d not survive this.

  He pulled Georgina against him and rocked her back and forth. Tears blinded him. He blinked and forced the drops to fall, clearing his vision so he could see what his insecurities and foolishness had wrought. “Why?” he rasped against her temple. “Why would you place yourself in front of a bullet for me? Why, Georgina? Why?”

  Why, when I hurt and betrayed you? Why would you give your life for me?

  He dimly registered the commands barked out by Bennett, Archer, and Aubrey but couldn’t fight his way through the thick fog of confusion.

  Archer clasped Adam’s shoulder. “We have to get her help.” He reached for Georgina.

  Adam snarled at him. “Get the hell away from her.” Wisely, Archer fell back. Adam wouldn’t let anyone else touch her. Nobody.

  Aubrey looked to Bennett and Archer. “See to this,” he said quietly and motioned to Georgina’s family. “As discreetly as possible.”

  Adam rose, taking great pains not to jar Georgina. They moved through the warehouse, out the doors, and into Aubrey’s carriage. Georgina remained still. Her eyes were sunken against the porcelain white of her skin.

  As the carriage rattled on, Adam raised Georgina’s fingers to the light. Blood marred the tips of her fingers and the underside of her nails. Nausea roiled in his gut.

  He remembered back to his captivity when Georgina had cared for him; how the sight of blood had made her weak-kneed. His eyes slid closed. Until the day he died, he would forever remember the sight of her life-blood seeping onto the coach floor.

  He growled. “Surely the driver can move faster.”

  Aubrey gave the command and the carriage sprung into motion. Adam cradled Georgina to his body and prayed. He prayed to a God he didn’t even think he’d believe in anymore. But for Georgina, he’d trade his soul to the devil if it might save her.

  It seemed ten lifetimes passed before the conveyance reached its destination. He dimly registered the door opening. Aubrey leapt from the carriage and reached up for Georgina’s prone form. Adam handed her over, but when his feet were on the ground, he swiftly reclaimed her and followed the duke up the steps to the white townhouse.