The Rogue's Revenge

by Lucy E. Zahnle

  "No, Miss Honor. He would not." Her confident eyes met the girl's troubled ones steadily.

  "Do you love that Monster Man?" The little girl's tone was incredulous. "Like Cinderella loved the prince?"

  Lucia glanced away, searching for a way to avoid another lie. Finally she turned back to Honor. "I am very happy with my new husband, my dear, and I must go home to him now or he will worry about me and be sad."

  "Oh, but you will come back tomorrow, won't you? We walk in the park every morning," Honor begged, apparently reconciled to her former governess's new status. Her brothers and sister added their pleas to hers.

  "Well, I..." she laughed and her eyes met Miss Twyll's. The older lady gave a slight nod. "Yes! I would be delighted to meet you again tomorrow. We shall play another game!"

  "And you can tell me more about that Monster Man! I want to know why you love him more than us!"

  "Miss Honor!" Shocked, Miss Twyll reproached her pupil.

  "Well, I do!"

  Lucia paled at the thought of answering such a question. Rising, she said, "I must take my leave, children. I shall see you tomorrow."

  After another round of hugs and vociferous farewells, Lucia mounted her white stallion and trotted out of the park with her groom in attendance. Miss Twyll and her chattering charges strolled away in the opposite direction.

  As the crowd dispersed, two horsemen separated from the trees. "It's just as I told you, dear boy!" Sir Winston Rochedale said. "And she's coming back tomorrow! She'll be alone save for an old hag and a pack of helpless brats. You can do whatever you like with her. My information must be worth fifty, at least."

  "You'll have your money soon enough!" Giles said, irritated. He rode beside Sir Winston mounted on a flashy black stallion with a white mane and tail. "We'll still have the groom to deal with."

  "Small matter, dear boy. While you set upon Her Grace, I shall take care of the servant and leave the pair of you to...er...whatever follows." Rochedale grinned evilly. "What is to follow? Any special plans for the duke's little strumpet?"

  Mountheathe shrugged. "I don't know. A swift dagger to the belly, I suppose. That should be enough to kill the doxy or at least to trigger the loss of the Rogue's whelp." Giles gave a bark of laughter. "Robin's pretensions and his heir shall die aborning. That should take the wind out of his sails...or perhaps it will fill them as he scurries back into hiding on the Continent." A gloating gleam still in his eyes, Giles turned his horse around. "Come on, Rochey! We need to find something suitably disgusting to wear if we are to disguise ourselves as footpads."

  ***

  Oblivious to the morning sunshine tumbling into his breakfast room through the garden window, Robin gloomily sipped his coffee and discovered that it had grown cold. 'As cold as my bed this morning,' he thought bitterly. He had awakened an hour before to find Lucia gone. Careful, casual questioning of his staff revealed that she had risen early, donned her riding habit, and gone to the park with a groom, one Andrew, in tow.

  Robin had pretended unconcern, but inside, the old familiar panic drummed through him. Had he lost her? Had she bolted? Was she with a lover? With Norworth, perhaps?

  Norworth! His fingers tightened around the handle of his delicate china cup until it snapped. In his mind's eye, he saw the Blaynes' ball again; saw Lucia surrounded by eager young bucks; Lucia dancing with one man after another; Lucia exchanging sultry glances with Norworth, laughing at his sallies and hanging on his arm as if she belonged there, as if she had always been there. Robin slammed the broken porcelain against the table. Norworth was a damned rakehell! Any fool could see that! If he dared to seduce Lucia --

  Robin's fists clenched in impotent fury. Rising, cane in hand, he limped over to the sideboard. Lifting the lid of a full crystal decanter, he sniffed its contents. "Cider!" he muttered with a satisfied smile. God help Norworth if he did elope with Lucia. The bastard would never taste another drop of strong spirits as long as he lived!

  Robin rang for the butler. "Brandy, Laddock!" he ordered when the servant appeared.

  "Very good, Your Grace." Laddock bowed and turned to go.

  "No! Wait! Let it be more coffee. You know how Her Grace feels about brandy for breakfast!"

  Laddock bowed once more and left. Robin hobbled back to the table, sank into a chair, and stared out the window. 'Mon Dieu! I am sitting here like a damned fool trying to please Lucia while she's off à Dieu sait quoi with another man!' he thought, disgusted with himself. Bitter anger knotted his stomach, but he savagely denied any jealousy. He simply could not afford to let Lucia get too friendly with anyone. His future and his fortune were at stake!

  Laddock entered with a tray bearing a silver coffeepot and a china cup that matched the shards on the table. Robin looked up. "I've changed my mind, Laddock. I will have the brandy after all."

  As Laddock left, the ormolu clock on the mantle chimed once to celebrate a quarter past nine. Robin decided that if Lucia did not return within the next quarter hour, he would comb London until he found her, then cart her home tossed over his shoulder.

  When Laddock brought the brandy, Robin poured himself a glass and drank with defiant satisfaction, then glanced at the clock again. Five minutes had passed.

  'Where is she?' he fumed as he poured the rest of his brandy back into the decanter. 'Where the devil is she?'

  ***

  Lucia breezed into Lynkellyn House, determined to be cheerful despite the melancholy that had settled upon her after her last conversation with Honor. As Laddock took her hat and riding crop, she asked the time and discovered that Norworth was due in twenty minutes. "When Lord Norworth arrives, show him to the Blue Salon, Laddock." she said, rushing up the stairs to her chambers.

  Alerted by the noise, Robin stuck his head out of the library, having closeted himself there after breakfast. "Was that Her Grace coming in, Laddock?"

  "Yes, Your Grace. She went upstairs to await Viscount Norworth."

  "Norworth!" Robin's loathing slashed through the name like a broadsword. "Thank you, Laddock. That will be all," he said, limping purposefully across the foyer to the staircase.

  Lucia had changed into a lavender frock trimmed in a darker purple and Anne was tidying her hair when Robin flung open the door. Mistress and maid jumped at the noise, gazing in amazement at Lynkellyn. Noting his set jaw and smoldering eyes, Lucia hastily dismissed Anne and Robin firmly closed the door behind her. "I understand that Viscount Norworth is expected to call. I don't see the necessity for his visit since you have already spent the entire morning in his company," he said, hobbling toward a chair.

  Lucia crossed the room to collect her violet-plumed bonnet from the bed. She donned it with maddening composure, looking in her dressing table mirror to tie the ribbons. "I don't know where you are getting your information these days, Your Grace, but I spent the morning with the Saddewythe children and their governess in the park."

  "The Saddewythe children!" Robin frowned, easing into the chair.

  "Yes! It seems that in your enthusiastic pursuit of the married state, you terrified Miss Honor into a decline. At the ball last night, Lady Saddewythe asked me to meet the children this morning to reassure them that you had not murdered me and left my body lying in some thicket."

  Ignoring the rest of Lucia's reply, Robin pounced upon the crux of his displeasure with her. "Mais oui! The ball! Quite the belle, weren't you! Men circling you like birds of prey. Perhaps you regarded them as so many lap dogs. You certainly had Norworth's tail wagging all evening!"

  "I spoke civilly to him at dinner and I danced with him twice! The most exacting moralist could not condemn my conduct."

  "And what of your 'stroll'?" Robin grasped his cane and rose angrily. "Were your morals as angelic in the dark?"

  "Yes, they were! I wanted to admire the flowers near Lady Blayne's veranda. Dear Lord Peter was kind enough to escort me into the garden."

  "'Dear Lord Peter', is it?" Robin's eyes narrowed. "And among those flowers, ma douce, was
it your violet eyes or your rose-bud mouth that 'dear Lord Peter' found the most enticing? Perhaps he's looking to plant some seed of his own!"

  Fury blazed in Lucia's eyes. She raised her hand to slap him, but, dropping his cane and shifting his weight to his good leg, he caught her wrist. "You'll not strike me, my sweet," he growled, capturing her other hand as she brought it to the aid of its fellow.

  "Let me...go..., damn you!" She tried to wrench away from him with all her strength.

  "The language of the gutter does not suit you, Your Grace, now that I've made you a lady!" Amberley mocked as he held her fast. In a quicksilver move, he released her wrists and his arms encircled her waist, pulling her so forcefully against him that they both staggered a little.

  "Robin," she gasped, struggling in his arms, "you long ago proved that you are stronger than I am! Let me go! The viscount is here!"

  Sounds of Norworth's arrival floated up to them, but still he did not release her. "I'll not have you encouraging every Town buck you meet to court you, Lucia! If you are planning to beguile some poor fool into helping you escape me, c'est une cause perdu. I shall come after you and when I catch you, it will not be pleasant for you or your paramour. If it is une affaire de coeur you seek, you will have to become a great deal more discreet than you have been, héin? I'll not have your infidelities paraded through the streets of London while the beau monde jeers!" He glared down at her, his eyes an angry, wintery grey.

  "Please, Robin, I can hardly breathe! I'm not seeking a lover. I'm just going to visit some London landmarks...with Lord Norworth!"

  "Devil take Lord Norworth!" Robin bent his head with swift grace and his mouth covered hers, moving hungrily over the pink coral of her lips. She offered no resistance to his kiss, melting against him as her mouth parted to welcome the caresses of his tongue. Her arms crept up to encircle his neck and her fingers ran through his hair. With a groan, he tightened his embrace without a murmur of complaint from Lucia.

  Passion washed over them like sunshine over shadow. They lost themselves in the ecstasy of desire, all their fear and distrust momentarily crumbling in an elusive, swirling, phantom happiness. They clung together desperately, each treasuring this fragile joy, afraid lest the world outside their private Eden should intrude and shatter their enchantment.

  At last, their lips parted. Breathless and trembling with the force of his ardor, Robin smiled down at Lucia's dreamy countenance, cradling her in his arms, unwilling to release her and break the spell.

  "The viscount is waiting," Lucia murmured, gazing raptly up at him.

  "The viscount may go to the devil!" Robin said in an equally dazed voice as his eyes devoured her sweet face.

  "I must go," she said distractedly. Robin reluctantly loosened his embrace, reaching for a nearby table to support himself as his leg throbbed dully. Lucia's arms, however, remained around his neck and she made no move to depart.

  He lifted a brow, laughter in his eyes. "The viscount, ma chérie!"

  "The viscount." She smiled blissfully.

  "He's waiting for you, ma chérie," Robin whispered, caressing the beguiling pink bow of her mouth with his finger, "but you don't have to go."

  A sharp rap on the door slammed Lucia back into reality and she pulled away from Robin as if his touch burned her. He stumbled a little upon the unexpected loss of his lady's support, but, clutching the table, he regained his balance and bent down to retrieve his cane, suddenly aware of his aching leg. All at once he was weary of standing and, leaning heavily on his crutch, he limped to the chair.

  "Your Grace!" Anne's muffled voice floated through the door. "Viscount Norworth awaits you in the Blue Salon."

  Turning her back to Robin, Lucia visibly composed herself. "Yes! Very well! I'll be down soon." Anne's footsteps retreated.

  Lucia whirled to glare at Robin, accusation in her eyes. "You, sir, are a wizard. You have woven such a spell around me that I..." She shivered, her hand fluttering to her cheek. Robin started to rise, reaching out to her. "No!" she cried. "No, don't touch me! I can't...don't touch me!" She shied across the room like a frightened colt.

  With the entire expanse of the room between them for safety, Lucia drew a deep breath and lifted her chin. "I have conceived your child for you, Your Grace. You no longer have any reason to touch me and since I find your advances distasteful, I demand that you leave me alone."

  "Distasteful?!" Robin sank back in his chair, shocked. Pain shadowed his eyes. "Lucia, I cannot believe that you found what just passed between us..."

  "Distasteful, sir!" she insisted in icily granite tones. "You are forever forcing your attentions upon me -- at the Saddewythes'; at Brackenwell Hall; at the Blaynes' ball. Do you realize how embarrassing -- how -- how humiliating that public kiss was, Robin?"

  Amberley's eyes burned with sudden fury. He pressed his cane against the floor and rose. "You are my wife, Lucia. I shall kiss you whenever and wherever I please. It is a right Norworth does not possess. Kindly remind him of that fact while you are together today."

  "Why should you care what occurs between the viscount and me? You've got what you want! Just -- just enjoy your damned money and leave me alone now!"

  "What of our marriage vows? You cannot deny me my conjugal rights!"

  "To the devil with your rights, Your Grace!" Sparks of blue fire danced in her eyes as she pushed past him. She opened her bedroom door and forced herself to walk calmly down the stairs. A second later, Robin appeared at the head of the staircase, calling her name, but she daren't turn around, daren't let herself react to the angry desperation in his voice.

  He had stolen away the last shreds of her reserve and self- control with a simple kiss. For those few minutes, she had been willing, even eager, to throw herself totally into his power, to do anything he asked, surrendering all for a brief moment of passion, a fleeting illusion of happiness. She was terrified to discover that he could have such an effect upon her, even temporarily. She hurried down the stairs in what she knew to be cowardly retreat. Sometimes it was wisest to run.

  As Lucia reached the foyer, she heard Robin's step on the stair. Walking briskly toward the Blue Salon, she paused only to straighten her bonnet and plaster a confident smile upon her face before entering the room. Plying his cane, Robin was still thump- clumping down the stairs as she crossed the threshold.

  Robin had only reached midpoint on the staircase when Lucia and Norworth left the drawing room. His granite eyes glittering with hostility, he halted to watch Norworth swagger out of Lynkellyn House with Lucia on his arm. As they opened the door, bright sunshine flooded the foyer, then vanished when it closed, the door's slam echoing like a gunshot through the dark, vaulted room.

  For a moment, Robin stood stone-still in the shadows, his fists clenched, then he started down the stairs once more, his tapping cane ringing hollowly as he crossed the silent hall. He entered the Blue Salon, reaching the window which looked out onto the square before Lucia and the viscount had gotten quite away.

  He stood back from the open window, letting the room's shadows hide him as he watched Norworth help Lucia into a carriage. The couple looked at each other and laughed as the coach drove away.

  His lips compressed into a grim line, Robin turned away from the window. Encountering his reflection in a large, gilt-framed mirror on the opposite wall, he limped a little closer to the glass. A tall, powerfully built man gazed back at him, the face all angles and planes save for a full and sensuous mouth. Grey eyes fringed with dark lashes and capped with dark brows contrasted sharply with the bright mop of undeniably copper hair that topped it all. His brows furrowed and he stared harder at his reflection, wondering if Lucia found him pleasing to look upon.

  Or did she find Lord Norworth more to her taste? The viscount, with his raven hair, dark eyes, and devil-may care charm, could easily pass for a fairy tale hero. What female with an ounce of romance in her soul could fail to fall in love with Prince Charming, especially when her alternative was a battered and batt
le-scarred old tom cat who had roamed the world's alleys and gutters too long?

  With a grimace of self-contempt, Robin hobbled to an overstuffed chair and lowered himself into it. He had forsaken all consideration of the world's opinion long ago so why should he care what Lucia thought of him?

  But he did care! He needed her; her smiles and fury, her compassion and wit, her beauty, her touch, her spirit. The opiate that was Lucia gripped him, body and soul, and he could not banish his overwhelming hunger. How had she gained so much power over him? Why had he surrendered it? How had he come to depend upon her so much?

  Lucia had accused him of wizardry, but she must be the one casting spells to make him feel so angry and confused. He ran his hands shakily through his hair, tangling the carefully curled tresses and leaving the black bow at the nape of his neck crooked at an odd angle.

  Since the child Lucia was carrying was undoubtedly an Amberley, Robin's inheritance was secure and that, as she had so obligingly reminded him, meant that he need never touch her again. très bien! The world was full of women eager to welcome his attentions. He had been unable to kill his hunger for Lucia in a surfeit of her charms, but perhaps he could drown it in an orgy of pleasure with London's demimonde. He had weaned himself from opium. He could overcome his addiction to Lucia as well. He would show her that he was not a man to sit quietly at home while his wife cuckolded him with a bevy of lovers.

  But he would miss her kisses and her kindness! His mind flooded with memories of her tender caress, her playful teasing, her laughter... And now she was sharing all that with her 'dear Lord Peter'!

  They had looked so comfortable and easy together as they drove away this morning. How eagerly Norworth's hands had caressed her waist as he helped her into the coach! How intimately his knee had pressed against hers as they sat close together on the box! How lovingly his fingers had brushed an errant curl from her face!

  Uninvited, an ugly vision slithered into Robin's mind. Lucia in Norworth's arms, his hands touching, exploring, caressing her; their sweating bodies undulating in unison; her gentle kisses and innocent, beguiling eyes pleading with her 'dear Lord Peter' to take her away from her cruel husband.