Breaking the Rake's Rules

by Bronwyn Scott

  Bryn spat in his face, allowing herself one small piece of defiance. ‘Never.’

  He laughed. ‘Well, that’s for you to decide. I’m off to greet our guests. Baden, you might want to tie this one up in case she gets any ideas about running. I want her to have a front-row seat to Kitt Sherard’s demise. His luck has just about run out. He’s only got this far because I allowed it.’

  Bryn’s eyes darted past Devore’s bulk, trying to catch a glimpse of Kitt, of what Devore had planned. Devore turned, following her gaze, the tension in his form belying his confidence. For the first time, Bryn realised he was afraid. If she’d been able to look past her own concerns, she might have seen it earlier: the brutality, the bullying, the poisoned knife, the tactics of a coward. That didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. The knife especially posed a very real threat, coward or not.

  She caught sight of Kitt, a band of men fanned out behind him as he gained the beach. Her breath hitched. Devore had every right to be afraid.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  He looked glorious! For however long she lived, the image of Kitt would be burned on her mind. He was Poseidon rising from the sea, or Apollo come to earth. His skin gleamed in the sun, sleek and greased from liberal quantities of oil, his bare chest crossed by a bandolier of pistols, a long knife sheathed at his waist. But it wasn’t the weapons that made him formidable. It was the set of his jaw and the hardness of his eyes. This was no Poseidon or Apollo. This was Ares, god of war, come to do battle. Hope surged. Poisoned knife blades diminished in the face of this avenging warrior.

  ‘Let her go, Devore!’ Kitt’s voice rang out with authority across the beach. His men faced Devore’s in a menacing line, each of them bristling with weapons. Kitt’s message was clearly communicated: this could be a blood bath. His men were prepared to fight for her. ‘It’s me you want.’ Kitt held his arms wide in a pointless gesture of peace. He was armed to the teeth. It didn’t matter there wasn’t a weapon in his hand at present. He could have one there in seconds.

  When Devore said nothing, Kitt called out his offer one more time. ‘Me for her!’ He slipped the bandolier from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. Bryn’s throat tightened. This was a trade Kitt had made before, for his brother. She knew in a horrifying moment of truth that Kitt loved her. He had sacrificed himself once for his brother out of love and now he intended to do the same for her. No, that wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want him to simply turn himself over, to submit to Devore. She wanted him to fight, to make Devore pay.

  Apparently it wasn’t what Devore wanted either. ‘I don’t want a trade, Sherard. I want you to suffer,’ Devore called out. ‘Submission is too easy. There’s no pain in it. I want you to suffer as I’ve suffered. I lost everything that had worth to me, thanks to you, and just when I’m getting back on my feet, you come along again to kick me back down. Well, no more.’

  Devore stepped back to her side, his knife flashing in his hand, the tip hovering beneath her chin. Bryn drew back, trying to make herself as small as possible, but Devore held her fast. This was not the plan! ‘This blade is poisoned, Sherard. One prick and she dies. I am taking her with me aboard my ship as I sail into a new life. If you follow us, she dies. If you attempt to do me any harm, she dies. Do you understand?’

  * * *

  He understood Devore’s repetitive litany too well. Any misstep from him and Bryn died. Kitt’s hand flexed around the handle of his own knife, a throwing blade, specially balanced for accuracy and speed. He just needed an opportunity. Bryn lived as long as he let Devore go. But that required leaving Bryn in Devore’s hands and that was intolerable. Bryn would not suffer for him, because of him.

  It was clear Devore wasn’t bluffing. Bryn’s pale face was proof enough Devore’s threat was real. Kitt assessed the options with lightning speed. Devore would kill her right there in front of him or kill her later, perhaps, with the slightest provocation. Letting Devore go now didn’t buy Bryn more time, only more danger. He needed a clean throw, he needed Devore to step away from Bryn so there was no risk of him accidentally pricking her. And yet, if he could somehow put Bryn in charge of Devore’s blade, it would give her power, a tool to defend herself with. Would she understand his message?

  ‘You are more of a coward than I thought, Devore.’ Kitt began to pace, hoping to distract Devore with his ceaseless movements. ‘Taking a helpless woman, using her to blackmail me into compliance and resorting to poison, all speak of cowardice. I would have expected better from you. Perhaps you’ve lost your courage without Gridley around to call the shots. Perhaps he truly was the brains of the operation. Are you afraid to face me man to man? What will your men think of their boss if you refuse?’

  Kitt drew a circle in the sand and stepped inside. ‘I dare you to join me. Man to man, knife to knife.’ He couldn’t afford to look at Bryn’s face. He would lose his focus, his detachment. He’d felt it slip the moment he’d seen Devore’s knife slide beneath her chin. He didn’t need her panic to know the risks. He was the more agile of the two, but Devore had a poisoned tip—it more than made up for the bulk and limp of him. Devore didn’t need to be fast, Devore only needed him to be careless. Kitt knew he had no margin for error.

  There was a rustle in the ranks of Devore’s men. ‘C’mon, Boss, give the bastard what he deserves,’ someone called out. The sentiment was taken up with cheers along the line. Kitt grinned. Devore would not be able to back down now. Devore stepped into the circle. Despite the danger to himself, Kitt let relief ease his thoughts and focus his body. Bryn was safe for now. As long as he kept Devore in the circle, Bryn was safe.

  Kitt feinted, testing Devore’s tactics. Devore growled and threw a handful of sand. Kitt was ready for it and darted backwards. His men roared their disapproval of the underhanded ploy. He heard Passemore call out something derogatory. The proverbial sabres were starting to rattle. His men would fight. Passemore had instructions to launch a full attack if he fell, to get to Bryn at all costs.

  Kitt and Devore circled. He watched the man’s bad leg, he watched the sweat bead on the heavier man’s forehead. Devore would want to have this over quickly. Devore lunged, lowering his head like a bull, his head aimed for Kitt’s midsection, his free hand attempting to grab Kitt’s wrist. Kitt dug his feet into the sand and took the blow, grabbing the man’s shirt and wrapping his fist in the fabric to throw him. Devore tried to grab hold of Kitt, but couldn’t. There was no shirt, only slippery skin that offered no traction. Devore lost his footing, momentum overbalancing him. He went down, Kitt’s blade slicing into him as he fell.

  It was chaos on the beach then. Devore’s men rushed the circle, only to meet Kitt’s crew, weapons drawn. Kitt pulled his knife free, his one thought on getting to Bryn. All sorts of accidents happened in mêlées like this one and the fighting was far too close to her.

  Kitt punched and stabbed, cutting a path towards her, his thoughts immediate: get Bryn, get to the boats, get to the ship. There were no thoughts beyond that. One brute remained between him and Bryn. Kitt drove his knife deep into the man’s belly without hesitation. His next cut was through Bryn’s bonds. They were free, the boats fifty yards ahead of them.

  They ran, his hand tight over her wrist as he dragged her towards safety. He didn’t care, he just wanted off the beach, just wanted Bryn safe. He shouted to Passemore to cover their retreat and swept Bryn into his arms, carrying her through the surf to the row boat. Others joined him to get the oars under way. Minutes later, Passemore had the rest on board and they were away, leaving the bloody beach behind them.

  He had her. Bryn was safe! She was in his arms, because he wouldn’t let her leave them. But victory had struck him dumb. All of his thoughts had run out. He’d not thought beyond the beach, hadn’t allowed himself to think of them both leaving the beach alive. What next? He didn’t know. That wasn’t quite true. He did know what was next, the on
e thing he’d promised himself he’d do if he got her off the beach. He’d see her on a boat to England, back to where she belonged. After today, her father would certainly support such a decision. As long as she was here, there would be those who would try to get to him through her. He couldn’t expose her to that. They’d barely lived through it once. He couldn’t imagine living through it again. He loved her too much. He was going to do the only thing he could. He was going to give her up. But first, he had to walk away and that was proving hard to do. His mind was made up, but his body was not.

  * * *

  ‘Thank you,’ Bryn said quietly into the silence that had grown up between them. They were at the rail of the ship, the rest of the crew had gone about their jobs, their busyness giving the two of them privacy without leaving the deck. ‘You were brilliant today, so fearless, so brave.’

  ‘I was scared,’ Kitt said more sharply than he intended. He would not be made into a hero over this. It was his fault this had happened in the first place, that she’d been in danger at all.

  Bryn’s hand was light on his arm. ‘Of course you were. I think that is what real courage is about; going forward even though you’re frightened, even though the outcome is uncertain.’ She paused and bit her lip. Kitt waited for her to continue. ‘Which is why I want to try and be courageous now. I promised myself I would do something if I saw you again. It was all I could think of to keep myself from going crazy with fear when I was with Devore. I don’t pretend it’s something you want to hear, but it’s something I need to say.’

  Bryn turned to face him, forcing him to look at her. His stomach rolled into a tight ball. This was where she told him how much she despised the man he was, how much she regretted what had passed between them. Kitt steeled himself. He’d known from the start it would come to this. A woman like Bryn Rutherford was far too good for a man like him. Today, she’d seen him kill without hesitation. When all of this had started, it hadn’t mattered. But in this awful moment, he’d never wished so much to be a different man, to have a different life.

  ‘When Devore was making his threats, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do and all the things I had done. The best things were the things I’d done with you. And everything I had yet to do, I wanted to do with you. I didn’t look for this to happen. I thought I’d be safe with you, but I’m not. I fell anyway, Kitt. I love you.’

  I thought I’d be safe with you, but I’m not... He understood that part. He’d expected that much. It was the part after that caught him by surprise. I fell anyway...I love you. It took a moment for him to realise she’d not meant it literally. She meant the safety of her feelings, of her heart. She didn’t despise him. Quite the opposite. She loved him. It was a stunning gift, one he couldn’t accept.

  ‘I cannot offer you anything decent, Bryn.’ His resolve was wavering. He’d never get her on a ship to England at this rate. ‘I can’t keep you safe. There will always be the potential of another Devore. Even if I gave it all up, I can’t erase my past and whatever may lurk there.’ Maybe he could, maybe there wouldn’t be any more enemies, maybe no one would look for him. Maybe his identity was safe. Maybe... The possible began to chase the impossible around his mind in a dizzying circle of reason. ‘I just don’t know what I’m capable of. If I did, it would be different.’ Kitt fumbled with his thoughts, overwhelmed. When things seemed too good to be true, they probably were.

  Bryn’s grey eyes lit up. She meant to do battle. For him, Kitt realised. ‘I don’t want it to be different or you to be different. I don’t want “decent”. I’ve had my share of what passes for decent gentlemen. You are far more than decent with your love of family, with your loyalty.’ She fixed him with a hard stare. ‘I want you, Kitt Sherard, rough edges and all. The question is do you want me?’

  ‘Rough edges and all?’ Kitt gave a faint smile, but it was no laughing matter. His insides were still roiling, but for a different reason. Did he dare take the leap? He wanted to. If he leapt or not, Bryn had his heart. Nothing would change that, not England, not a thousand miles of sea.

  Suddenly, it was all too much. He needed her desperately, needed to feel her around him, needed to be inside her, to know she was his beyond words. ‘Come with me.’ Kitt’s voice was gruff, filling with emotion. His hand closed about hers, leading her to his cabin, the door barely shut behind them before he claimed her with his mouth, her back against the wall.

  ‘Kitt.’ She moaned his name into his mouth, her hands cradling his face, her body pressing against his, wanting this as much as he did, needing it perhaps more.

  ‘Are you sure, Bryn?’ He drew a ragged breath. ‘Devore, he didn’t...?’

  ‘No, he did nothing that could truly hurt me,’ she murmured, Devore and his filth couldn’t touch them, couldn’t haunt them any more. Her hand slipped to his trousers, cupping him, stroking him. ‘There are some rough edges of yours I like more than others,’ she whispered at his ear, her teeth catching the tender part of his lobe. ‘Undress me, Kitt. I want to be naked with you.’

  He slid the gown from her. He’d burn it the first chance he had, but for now he wanted to worship with his hands, with his lips, his tongue, wanted to erase every trace of Devore’s touch from her skin. She was his, and only his. Primal fire consumed him as he took her down on the bed. He’d nearly lost her today. One slip of the knife and she would have been gone, beyond any skill he had to bring her back. There are some things a man couldn’t fight with pistols and blades. Those were the things that scared him the most.

  He came down between her legs, revelling in how she opened for him, how her legs went about him to draw him close. This was one of those things. He had no illusions now that being with Bryn would grow less intense with familiarity or time. That scared him, to lose himself so completely in another. It also ignited him, fired him deep at the core of his soul. This was living at its most frightening, but loving at its finest.

  Kitt thrust deeply with all the surety of a man who knew he was home. He let his body say what his words could not. She arched against him and he came hard, wringing a satisfied cry from her as she clung to him, their bodies overcome with pleasure, overcome with life. It had been a near-run thing today. He vowed silently it would never be so near again. He rolled to his side and pulled her to him as his heartbeat slowed, the enormity of what he’d committed to coming to him in post-climax clarity.

  ‘It will be hard, Bryn. Life with me won’t be easy.’

  Bryn smiled up at him. ‘I know. I like it hard.’

  Kitt laughed. ‘You’re a naughty wench when it comes right down to it.’ He sighed and blew out a breath. ‘It’s been quite a day: rescuing damsels, a fight to the death...falling in love.’

  Bryn traced a circle around his nipple. ‘All in a day’s work for the notorious Captain Sherard from what I hear.’ She paused and levered up on one arm to look at him. It was one of his favourite poses, her hair hanging over one shoulder, her eyes fixed on him. ‘You haven’t answered my question and Carlisle Bay looms. I want you, Kitt. Do you want me?’

  ‘Do you doubt it?’ He’d worshipped her with his body. What more was there to prove? Meaningful words were not his strong suit. He could banter all day, flirt all night with empty words. But meaningful words? He’d denied himself those for so long.

  ‘I do not doubt it. I don’t want you to doubt it or yourself. Say the words,’ Bryn coaxed.

  Kitt met her gaze solemnly, his voice quiet, intuitively understanding this would be the most reverent moment of his life. ‘Yes, Bryn Rutherford. I want you, for ever, for always.’

  There would be vows and public declarations later to satisfy the law and the church, but these words satisfied their hearts and meant so much more. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice whispered, it’s a trap. Yes, indeed. Love was a trap. A glorious, well-sprung trap in which he was utterly caught.

  Epilo
gue

  No one ever said loving Kitt Sherard would be easy, but it was an amazing journey as he revealed little pieces of himself to her. Bryn understood she would not get it all at once, but she had a lifetime to learn him, a lifetime to love him whoever he was—notorious Kitt Sherard or Michael Melford. She loved both the rogue and the gentleman, but most of all, she loved the man they’d combined to make. That man waited by the warm surf of the beach to claim her as his bride.

  Beside her, her father gave a misty smile as he walked her down the runner of red carpet covering the sand. ‘Your mother would be proud of you. You have followed your heart and that’s all she would have wanted.’

  Bryn smiled, too moved for words. Kitt was her heart, her future. Her father placed her hand in Kitt’s and stepped back. He joined the guests gathered on the sand—all three of them and one of them asleep: Ren Dryden and his wife, Emma, who held a baby in her arms.

  Kitt squeezed her hand, smiling down at her as the vicar began the ceremony. ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...’ Dearly beloved, yes, indeed, Bryn thought. They could have had a grand wedding at St Michael’s in Bridgetown, filled with citizens wanting her father’s favour, wanting to bask in Kitt’s success in bringing the land swindle to justice. But Bryn had wanted something more meaningful, a private celebration of their love with people who mattered.