The Thief and the Rogue

by Rachel Donnelly

  “Daddy insisted I check up on the place. You know how it is. He finds the journey tiresome and doesn’t get down as much as he’d like. I’ve been meaning to call, of course, but there’s always so much to do, you understand.” A glimmer of malice shone in her eyes. “I’m only sorry Lord Herrington beat me to it.”

  “You sent him?”

  “I suggested something was amiss. I had no idea he’d rush right over.” She leaned closer, as though to impart some secret. “You look to be holding up very well, so I shan’t feel guilty in letting you down in your time of need. Don’t worry I won’t breathe a word of it. We girls must stick together.”

  “Thank you, Phelia, you’re very kind,” Kay said, her mind turning fast. “I wouldn’t want people to think I’d deserted my husband during the difficult process of renovations, but the dust is so horrid I can barely breathe. Thankfully the Duke is very considerate. He insisted I stay at the Hall.”

  Phelia smiled thinly. “Well, it’s your story, darling. I wouldn’t dream of contradicting you. If you should need me, you know where to find me.” With a smug look, she pushed the door open and disappeared into the shop.

  Kay let out a puff of air in exasperation. She knew she shouldn’t allow Phelia get under her skin, but her triumphant satisfaction grated like wet sand against burnt skin. Phelia would like nothing better than to see her marriage fail.

  Ohhhh, what she wouldn’t give to prove her wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kay and Dolly burst through the front door laughing. Tiny rivers of rain trickled down their cheeks, dripping off their chins. Kay had hoped to make it home before the storm broke, and they might have, if not for a farmer pulling a heaping wagon of hay. They’d been forced to follow him for the last mile, giving the sky time to darken. The heavens had opened just as they pulled in the gate. They’d had to make a run for the house while the rain slashed down in torrents, soaking them both to the skin.

  “We’re already late for supper,” Dolly said, shaking out her skirts. “Mrs. Bell is sure to be in a state. We best get you out of those wet clothes as quick as we can.”

  “I’ll manage. You go and change.” Kay untied the ribbons on her bonnet, then swept it from her head, adding more water to the puddle at her feet. The top of her head was the only dry part of her. She removed her silk shawl from around her shoulders, giving it a shake, then stepped out of her squishy slippers. Holding them away from her, she ran lightly up the stairs.

  By the time she reached her bedchamber door, she was shivering with cold. All she wanted to do was to sink into a hot bath and drive the chill away. She opened the door, teeth chattering, pink muslin gown plastered to her like a crumpled rag.

  “Hello, Gorgeous.”

  Kay froze, her slippers dangling in one hand, wet shawl in the other.

  Hunter.

  What was he doing here?

  She’d been at Butterfield hall for two days. Two whole days! Why had he come now?

  He leaned against one of the windowsills, arms folded across his chest, features guarded. But the muscle working in the side of his cheek gave warning of his mood.

  “What are you doing here?”

  His voice seemed void of expression when he spoke, “I’ve come to take you home.”

  She kept her tone carefully controlled. “I am home.”

  “Did you think I’d let you go that easily?” The softness of his tone sent a curl of apprehension snaking through her innards. “I suppose you didn’t even consider the worry you’ve caused.”

  Worry? If he’d been worried, why hadn’t he come sooner? She shrugged, dropping her slippers on the floor. Very carefully, she draped her wet shawl over the chair by the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d care.”

  “Of course I care! While you’re under my protection, you’re my responsibility.” Harshness crept into his words. “When I returned from Plymouth to find you gone, well, let’s just say I wasn’t as calm as I am right now. ‘Tis fortunate for you the ride over here gave me time to think.” He pushed himself away from the windowsill.

  She took a step back.

  He flinched, stopping in his tracks. “Look, Kay, I never meant for things to go this far. But they have and there’s no going back. I know I’ve been an unfeeling bastard. And I’m sorry.” He ran one hand through his sable hair. “But if you come back, I promise to make it up to you.”

  What? She couldn’t believe it! He was actually apologizing. He wasn’t demanding she return or threatening to cart her off to jail—he was apologizing. A warm glow of pleasure spread over her. And yet, she remained cautious. “How?”

  “Call it a truce.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “What kind of a truce?”

  “A friendship of sorts.”

  “A friendship?” She repeated stupidly.

  “You and Charlie are friends.”

  “That’s different.”

  Something flitted across his face before his features became guarded again. “Yes, you’ve known him longer.”

  “It’s not just that.” She shook head, then looked away. Didn’t he know what he’d done? His deception had not just made her angry—it had hurt her. She never wanted to feel that way again. She didn’t know why he had the power to cut her raw—make her heart bleed, but he did. She said very carefully, “Friends are considerate of one another.”

  “You’re right.” His tone turned husky, almost contrite. “I’ll try to be more considerate.”

  “Friends spend time together—enjoy each other’s company.”

  “You don’t enjoy my company? The other day in the study—”

  Her flesh went hot. “When you’re not angry I do.”

  “I don’t profess to be a saint.” He flashed a roguish grin. “But I’ll do my best.”

  She took a moment to consider his offer. An image of Phelia’s smug look in the village flashed through her brain. Whatever happened, she could not let Phelia to win. “I shall need a bath first.”

  “Take your time. I’ll wait downstairs.” He strode for the door, then stopped and turned with a wicked grin. “Unless you need help?”

  “I think not,” she said primly, though a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  While she lay soaking in the tub, it occurred to her she might have agreed too readily. Most women would have used the occasion for leverage, instead of taking his tender words to heart. It would be foolish to delude herself into thinking this truce was anything other than what it was. But, somehow it didn’t matter. He had come for her. And no matter how unreasonable, it made her deliriously happy.

  It wasn’t until later, sitting across from him in the carriage, her doubts started to surface again.

  He hadn’t spoken a word, yet she could feel him watching her.

  She pretended to be occupied with the changing night sky, as the clouds rushed by in sooty puffs to reveal the stars beneath. The storm outside had ended, but the one within her heart raged on.

  If they’d met under different circumstances, might things have been different? He was clearly attracted to her, but attraction wasn’t love, not that she knew exactly what love between a man and a woman meant. She’d never been in love.

  “Lord Herrington called for you while you were gone.” There was a note of accusation in his tone, and something else, she could not put her finger on.

  “Yes, I know.” She breathed a long sigh. “He came to the Hall.”

  “Why?” Though Hunter’s face was in the shadows, she sensed his scowl.

  “I suppose Charlie asked him to check up on me.” She kept her tone light. “I assured him I was well and sent him on his way. I don’t know why, but he wanted my advice about some property he’s considering purchasing.”

  “I can think of a reason.”

  “I haven’t encouraged him, if that’s what you’re getting at. In fact, I’ve never really liked the man. I liked him even less after Charlie told me he was one of Phelia’s castoffs. Anyone who’
d be attracted to her is definitely low on my list of suitors.”

  “Present company accepted, of course,” he drawled.

  “Yes, of course.” Her cheeks heated. “I’m sorry,” she said with an abashed smile. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just meant that, well…Phelia is very beautiful, but she isn’t a very nice person, is she.”

  He laughed loudly at this. “Men don’t usually ask a lady to recite her virtues or wait for proof, before taking what’s being freely offered. That night in the garden when I accepted her eager kiss, I had no idea there’d be such a hefty charge.”

  Kay turned back toward the window, saying primly, “I’d prefer not to hear the details, if you don’t mind.”

  “There’s no need to be jealous, Gorgeous. It was a long time ago, and an incident I’d rather forget.”

  “I’m not jealous,” she said heatedly. “I could care less about your love tryst with Phelia or any other woman for that matter. You’re free to romp in the woods with whomever you please.”

  “It was a garden.”

  “Garden… woods, spare me the details.”

  “Details? Ha! There are no details, only that her father appeared out of nowhere and when I turned round, she’d ripped her gown and pulled every pin from her head.”

  “Oh… ” So that was how she’d meant to trap him. How horrid. One kiss, one brief indiscretion and his reputation had been blackened forever. Kay knew what it was like to be falsely accused—how he must have felt? “I’m sorry,” was all she could manage to say.

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “How on earth did we get onto this subject?”

  “We were speaking of Lord Herrington, another one of Phelia’s conquests. According to Charlie, he was deeply infatuated with her, even after her betrothal to Peter.”

  “So I gathered.”

  She knew she was playing her only trump card by giving him the information, but right now, for some reason, helping him seemed more important than ending their bargain. “That night at Lady Carlise’s, I asked Lord Herrington why he and Peter were no longer on friendly terms. He said they’d had a difference of opinion at Waterloo. He didn’t say exactly what it was, only that his loyalties were misplaced and he regretted some favor he’d done. He seemed angry when he spoke of it—almost bitter.”

  “I wonder what Phelia promised him in exchange for murdering Hartley? No doubt she told him she’d break off her betrothal with Peter and marry him instead. Herrington must have felt a complete fool afterward.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. Herrington isn’t the violent sort.” Kay shivered. “A little strange, but I wouldn’t consider him a savage.”

  “He didn’t have to be violent, only neglectful. Doctor Bradford said Hartley had developed a raging fever in the night. One of the other officers had wanted to wake the doctor to tend to him but Herrington had ordered him not to. By morning it was too late.”

  “That’s horrid!” Kay put a hand to her heart. “But that hardly sounds premeditated.”

  “But murder just the same.”

  A shiver rattled through her. “Yes.”

  “I don’t think it was ever planned right down to the last detail, only understood that if the opportunity arose, he’d take it. And that’s why it was so hard for the army to prove. Rather than suffer through a messy court proceeding, they forced Dr. Bradford to record the time of his death as being before the French turned him over.”

  She cringed, thinking of how she’d just welcomed Herrington into her home, how she’d danced with him on so many occasions. She wished she’d been firmer with him now. Most of all, she was thankful Hunter had come for her and she was returning to the manor, where she’d be safe.

  ***

  Night had begun to fall.

  Somewhere in the trees a redwing called.

  Kay clutched the reins tighter. Thick swirls of mist surrounded her, like ghoulish dancers. Storm quivered beneath her, dancing sideways at every sound. They wove their way through the densely packed trees, searching for a way out. But around every bend she only discovered more and more trees.

  Then, just when she was about to lose hope, the forest opened into a clearing. In the clearing sat a figure on horseback, shrouded in a black cloak. The dark rider charged across the clearing.

  Storm screeched with fright and reared. Kay hit the ground with a jarring thud. She tried to get up, but she was tangled in something, and her side hurt so much she thought she’d cracked a rib.

  “Kay, are you alright?” Hunter’s voice came to her in a fog.

  “What!” She struggled to sit up. “What happened?”

  “It appears you’ve fallen out of bed.” She opened her eyes to find Hunter leaning over her, black hair tossed about his head, his look of concern diluted by his twitching lips. “Here let me help you.” She ignored his hand, trying to right herself, but her long linen nightgown had her wrapped up tighter than a mummy in a crypt. After a valiant struggle she finally admitted defeat with a groan.

  His body was shaking with uncontrollable laughter by now. “Are you finished?” He scooped her up in his arms.

  She clung to his neck mortified by her predicament. “Stop laughing, you lout!”

  “Some thanks I get!”

  When he plunked her down on the bed, the bounce unraveled the offending garment. She collapsed back on the pillow, a gurgle of laughter bubbling up in her throat. And once she started laughing, she just couldn’t stop.

  When she finally pulled herself together, she caught her breath in little choking gasps. “I’m… sorry… I shouldn’t have… called you a lout.”

  He looked down at her, shaking his head. “Do you often catapult out of the bed in the middle of the night?”

  She sat upright, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes. “I fell from a horse I’ll have you know.” She put a hand to her side and groaned. “It’s not at all funny. I might have broken something.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Lie back and let me have a look.” Very gently he ran his hands over her sides.

  She laid very still, trying to concentrate on the shadowy images cast on the ceiling from the candle he’d brought to her bedside. But it was difficult when the feel of his hands felt more like a caress than an examination. Her gaze dropped to the black springy hairs on his chest. But all she could think of was the rest of his body beneath his black silk robe.

  “Hmm, nothing broken.” He grinned. “Let’s see if there are any bruises.” He made to pull up her night gown.

  She slapped his hand away. “That won’t be necessary. I’m feeling much better now.”

  “If you say so.” He stood and turned to leave.

  “Wait! Don’t go!”

  He turned back around, lifting one brow.

  “Could you stay for a while? Just until I fall asleep?”

  He groaned loudly. “Have mercy! I’m not a saint.”

  She pleaded with her eyes.

  “Oh, very well.” He sat back down on the edge of the bed.

  She scrambled under the covers, pulling them up to her chin. “Thank you for being a gentleman.”

  “Go, to sleep, Kay,” He told her gruffly. “You know damn well I’m nothing of the sort.”

  She rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes, deciding she liked having him there beside her.

  When she woke the spot beside her was still warm. Had he slept beside her all night? She had a vague recollection of the weight of his arm around her waist and the warmth of his body against hers. A feeling of regret swept over her. What would it be like to wake up next to him every morning? To sleep in the circle of his two strong arms?

  She sat up in bed with a sigh, then gave a tug to the bell.

  When Hunter strode in a short time later carrying her breakfast tray, her mouth dropped in surprise. “I’ve got something to show you, so you’d better get this into you fast.”

  “What is it?” She was all aquiver wondering what it could be. “Am I allowed to guess?” />
  He set the tray down on her bedside table. “Absolutely not.”

  She reached for the cup of chocolate, thinking how rugged and handsome he looked in his buckskins and brown jacket with his thick black hair still tussled from his morning ride. “I know… you’ve found another stud for Storm.”

  He shook his head. “I just told you, you’re not allowed to guess.”

  She took another sip of her chocolate then smiled. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  He raised his eyes heavenward. “You never give up, do you? No, I haven’t found another stud, because I’m not looking for one. There’s a perfectly good one eating us out of house and home out there in the stable.”

  His use of the word us, brought a happy smile to her lips. She set her cup down on the table. “I suppose he deserves a second chance, even if he is a brutish rogue like his master.”

  He made a lunge for her. With a screech of fright, she tried to scramble out the other side of the bed. He caught her by the ankles and dragged her back. “How dare you call me a brute after I’ve taken the trouble of bringing you breakfast.” He straddled her waist, pinning her arms above her head.

  “Let me up! I can’t breath,” she managed to get out between gulps of laughter.

  “First I’ll need a proper apology, and a thank you.”

  “Thank you for the breakfast.”

  “Very nice.” He grinned down at her. “A kiss will do by way of an apology, I think.”

  She stilled beneath him, suddenly aware of the erotic position she was in.

  A knock sounded against the door.

  “That’s Cora! What will she think?”

  “She’ll think I’ve finally succumbed to the pressure and decided to give you the sound beating you deserve.”

  “Hunter, please!”

  He leaned down, pointing at his lips with one finger.

  “Oh very well, since I have no choice.” She closed her eyes and raised her lips to his. His mouth felt warm and soft, and ever so persuasive. She forgot about Cora, the surprise, everything, except the exquisite feel of his mouth against hers. When her tongue touched his, a spark shot straight through to her core. She moaned and wriggled beneath him, savoring the taste of him—the fresh smell of him.