The Rogue's Revenge

by Lucy E. Zahnle

  Robin's fists clenched, his blood running hot and cold with fury. His fingers itched for a sword or a pistol; for a sporting chance at Peter Tallant! 'Dear Lord Peter' had little more in mind for Lucia than a rapid conquest and a leisurely seduction. When her belly started to swell with the Lynkellyn heir, he would abandon her, penniless, heartbroken, and alone.

  As much as she was hurting him, Robin did not want Lucia left in such straits. If it became necessary, he would whisk her off to Lynkellyn Castle to keep her safe from Mountheathe's brigands and Norworth's blandishments. Robert Amberley knew how to guard his own!

  Laddock entered the Blue Salon. "The Earl of Malkent awaits your pleasure, Your Grace."

  Robin stood and limped to the window. After staring hard at the cobblestones for a moment, he said, "I'll see the earl. Send word to Giovanni and Dr. Lindley that I want an audience with them tomorrow at their earliest convenience."

  "Very good, Your Grace."

  Tracy strolled into the Blue Salon. "Rogue! Well met! I've brought you your winnings from last night! Damn me, if I ever saw such a streak of luck as you had!"

  Robin smiled slightly, recalling all the grim, hungry years he'd spent in Europe's gaming hells perfecting his 'streak of luck'. He hobbled to the overstuffed chair and lowered himself into it. "Won't you sit down, Tracy?"

  Sinking into an identical chair, Malkent dropped a fat purse in Robin's lap. "Fifty-five guineas, wasn't it?"

  Robin was staring out the window, willing Norworth's coach to roll up to the door, although it had not been gone above half an hour. When Tracy called his name, he looked at the earl distractedly.

  "Fifty-five guineas?" Malkent repeated with a lifted brow. Robin nodded, his eyes darting back to the window. "You seem troubled today, Rogue. Is something wrong?"

  "What do you know of Norworth, Tracy?" Anger glinted in Robin's eyes. "He has a rakehelly reputation, héin?"

  "Why, yes! He's rather notorious!"

  "Naturellement! How could he be anything else?" Robin ran his hand through his disheveled hair. "With his handsome face and polished charm, he doesn't even have to work at seduction. Women fall into his lap like over-ripe peaches. Mon Dieu!" Robin exploded in a sudden angry tirade, speaking French so rapidly and colloquially that Tracy could only understand one word in ten.

  "Calm down, Rogue! What is all this about Norworth?"

  "He's gone off with my wife!" Robin flung at him between French curses.

  Tracy's eyes grew wide. "Eloped?"

  "They've gone to see the bloody Tower of London," Robin said. "But it will not be long before she convinces him to bolt. They are already like that!" He crossed his fingers and scowled. "With his charm and her beauty, they make the perfect couple! Nom de nom! Even their hair matches! Two beautiful raven-haired conspirators whose sole purpose is to -- " Robin halted in the midst of his diatribe to glower at the laughing earl. "I fail to see the humor in any of this, mon ami!"

  "Norworth's good, Rogue," Malkent said between gasps and chortles, "but not even he can seduce a woman within the space of one ball and a carriage ride! Besides, Her Grace is devilish loyal to you. Faithful to a fault! It's a wonder to see, considering..."

  "She'd never been given the chance to be unfaithful until last night! I knew that damned ball was a mistake!" Robin's eyes strayed back to the window.

  "Do you really think she is that eager to cuckold you, Robin?"

  "Cuckold me? No! Although I'm certain she would not hesitate if the necessity...or the fancy...were to strike her. Her greatest wish is to escape me."

  "But hasn't Lady Easterbury offered her a haven if she wanted to leave you? And I know Lady Blayne and Val have hinted that they would help her. And after the duel, she could have slipped away while you were unconscious. She didn't accept anyone's aid and she didn't run. She has chosen to stay with you, Rogue. Most commendable...and encouraging, I should think!"

  "Lucia is aware that as long as I know where she is and can drag her back to my side, she will not be free of me. That is why she wants to escape...really escape...so that I shall have no idea where she has gone," Robin answered with the forbearance of a teacher explaining a lesson to an especially slow child. "She didn't have enough money to bolt while I was in the sickroom or, je vous assure, she would be far away by now."

  Tracy was confused. He had always seen the Rogue's pretty bride as patient and loyal, working diligently toward all her husband's goals, despite the ill treatment she had received at his hands and the scandal that surrounded them both. Robin apparently saw a caged, restless creature, desperate to escape her prison. Tracy scowled at the image, raising one disbelieving brow.

  Robin shoved his hands through his hair again. "Lucia's terrified of me, Tracy. She only stays with me because she fears life as an adventuress even more. At least, that's what I once believed. I think she may be more reconciled to a gypsy existence now that her broadened circle of acquaintance has given her the option of fleeing with a wealthy protector. I'm certain she wants to escape and she'll try to cozen Norworth into helping her!"

  "Even if they eloped, they couldn't marry, Rogue!"

  "She doesn't want to marry him any more than he wants to marry her. She only wants to run from me. If she decides to trade her virtue for freedom -- well, I'll wager the presence of my ring won't stop the bedding!" Robin's fingers tightened on his cane and he banged it angrily against the carpeted floor, turning away from Malkent.

  Tracy was silent for a moment, unable to believe that this bitter, suspicious, venomous man had only a decade ago been his supremely romantic, ever laughing Rogue. He cursed the vicious world that had swallowed an adventurous, hay-go-mad young buck and spit out this scowling, sardonic scoundrel. "You seem to have found a new enemy and a new cause, Robin," he said at last. "I've not heard a single word about Mountheathe or your quarrel with him. Your marriage would appear to take precedence."

  "Mountheathe...Norworth...Lucia...my legacy... They are all interlocked and she is the key. If the viscount flies with her, then Giles wins! I'll have Tallant's head on a platter next to Mountheathe's if he tries to steal my bride."

  "Most women cannot be 'stolen' unless they wish to be. Imprison her and, of course, she will want to escape. No one with any spirit gladly suffers gaol. Surround her with affection and happiness at home and she'll stay of her own accord."

  Robin lifted himself out of his chair and hobbled over to the window, surreptitiously searching for Norworth's coach. "I would do that, Tracy," he said over his shoulder, "if I my marriage was based on love like yours, but my union with Lucia is founded on fear, coercion, and distrust. Damnably shaky ground it is, mon ami!" His hand tightened on his cane. "Mon Dieu! I should have stayed in Paris where I never had to feel anything." His bitterness hung in the air like something solid and ugly.

  "When you kissed Her Grace at Ryl's ball last night, it hardly seemed...war-like."

  "That!" Robin laughed. "That was in the nature of marking territory, mon ami, so that all those eager tonnish bucks, especially Norworth, will know that Lucia is mine and I'm prepared to fight for her. It was an act prompted by my profound suspicion of Lucia's loyalties. Yet another facet of living happily ever after." His mouth twisted into a sneer.

  "If you are both so miserable, why don't you live apart? Separate maintenances are practically de rigeuer these days. Val and I are beginning to feel gauche, staying together so contentedly for so long."

  "She'd find it even easier to disappear if we lived apart." Robin said. " I'd lose all control over her. I've worked too hard for vindication to lose my chance because that wretched girl decides to be difficult, but as long as she's under my palm, she will play my game. I want Giles Bridland's head, Malkent, and I'll not rest until I have it...and Norworth's as well if he gets in my way!"

  Chapter 20:

  In Which Lord Mountheathe Endeavors Once Again to End the Game

  Tracy stared at his furious friend. "I say, Robin! A little diversion will make you forget all
this nonsense about Norworth and your wife and you'll see things in a calmer, clearer light. Come out with me!" Robin seemed not to have heard him at first, but then nodded.

  They visited a horse fair at Smithfield and ate lunch at a nearby tavern. Malkent took Robin to his club, insisting upon sponsoring him for membership. Robin's lip curled at the idea that any self-respecting gentlemen's club would accept him into its ranks, but Tracy was ever an optimist.

  They supped at the club and went on to Randall's, a gaming hell which, Tracy assured Robin, was all the crack amongst the sporting ton.

  Standing on the threshold, Robin leaned on his cane and closed his eyes against the sight of desperate players hunched over dimly lit tables, but still the frantic hum of gaming dinned into his brain. He had seen a thousand hells like this one; dark, smoky temples dedicated to desperation and despair. His mind flooded with memories of dreary nights sitting at a green baize table, pretending to vast estates and grand incomes while shifting candlelight hid the tired spots in his fine velvet coat; of hungry nights staring at bad cards, half starved, yet waving away food lest his ravenous appetite betray his empty pockets; of bitter nights when a roll of the dice decided whether his bed was a feather mattress or a filthy alley.

  "Let's get out of here, Tracy," he said, turning away. "A hand of piquet at my house, perhaps?"

  Malkent stared at him. "Is something amiss, Rogue? If Randall's is not to your liking, I know of another."

  "I abhor gaming hells, Tracy!" Robin muttered, his eyes darting wistfully toward the door. "I thought that perhaps I would not feel so...uncomfortable...after almost two years, but I find that I detest these places as much as ever."

  Tracy's jaw dropped. "You used to game 'til dawn, Rogue! Some nights I practically had to drag you away from the tables! You were always looking for a new house!"

  "In those days, losing at cards didn't mean sleeping in a gutter, Tracy! Let's go, s'il vous plâit." A pleading panic colored his tone.

  Tracy sighed. "Very well! I suppose we could-"

  Staring over Tracy's head, Robin stilled and Malkent followed his gaze. Lord Norworth swaggered toward them, Lady Chalfont on his arm. He bowed while the lady favored the gentlemen with a small curtsy and a vivacious smile. Tracy and Robin bowed stiffly.

  "I am surprised to see you here, Your Grace! What of your new bride?" Peter inquired with affected concern, his eyes glinting a challenge.

  "She is weary from being dragged all over Town today!"

  "Perhaps it is the endless strife of her life with you that tires her so." Peter took a snuffbox from his coat pocket, flicking the jeweled lid open with his thumb. "Care to try my sort?" he offered with deceptive mildness.

  "Strife, is it?" Robin's eyes flashed like sunlit granite. "Lucia and I were doing very well until we were besieged by outsiders." His glance encompassed Tracy as well as the viscount.

  "Were you? Apparently, she does not agree with you. Only this morning she told me that-"

  "She's been confiding in you, has she?" Robin leaped upon Norworth's intimation. "You've begun your seduction already! You've gained her trust with your lies and pretty words!"

  "My lies!" Peter's lip curled. "Examine your own conduct toward her, Your Grace! Perhaps you should have courted your lady with flowers and candy instead of tossing her over your shoulder and carrying her off like some Viking out of the history books. After that experience, I daresay she'd trust a rabid dog before she'd trust you!"

  Eyes blazing, Robin swayed menacingly toward Peter, who retreated a step. "I've a mind to see your blood staining a field of honor, sir! Name your-"

  "Rogue! You can't meet anybody in your condition!" Tracy stared pointedly at Lynkellyn's cane. "Besides, I thought you wanted to leave. Didn't like the look of the place!"

  "Or the clientele, mon ami!" Robin's eyes raked Peter contemptuously. "But I've a deal to settle with this...this voleur des épousees!"

  "Look you, Rogue! Norworth's done nothing to warrant an encounter with you. Let it be, man! You can't kill everyone who displeases you!"

  Ignoring Tracy, Robin glared at Peter. "I do know how to guard my own, my lord. Have a care when you are in Lucia's company, for I shall know of the slightest impropriety."

  "You are a fine one to talk of impropriety, Your Grace!" Peter sneered. "Her Grace is a good deal safer with me than with you, I'll warrant. I don't abduct ladies on the King's highways!"

  His injury forgotten, Robin lunged furiously at Peter. His recklessness sent him stumbling and Tracy grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. "That's enough, Rogue! This is neither the time nor the place! Besides, you are not in a position to issue challenges at the moment!"

  With a tap of his cane, Robin pushed past Tracy and took another step toward Norworth. Suddenly Clarissa flung herself between the angry men, throwing her arms around the viscount's neck. "I'm bored with all this, Peter! I want to dance. You promised to take me to Vauxhall! I don't know why we ever came here in the first place." She folded her arms, her pouting pink lips atremble.

  "You will recall, my dear, that you insisted on seeing what a hell was like. I did tell you that ladies..." Peter stressed the word "...do not frequent such places and that you would not find Randall's amusing." His face was a mask of anger and annoyance.

  She stamped her foot. "I liked it very well until you began to quarrel with His Grace over that dreary governess! But now I want to go to Vauxhall!"

  "As you please," Norworth capitulated with more resignation than enthusiasm. "I'll get your wrap." Excusing himself, he strode away.

  Clarissa turned to Robin. "You must come, too, Your Grace!" she exclaimed in a breathless, throaty voice. Striving for calm, he raised an irritated brow. "To Vauxhall, I mean. I have been looking forward to furthering our acquaintance!" Then she turned belatedly to Tracy. "And you are invited as well, Lord Malkent."

  "Actually, I think I'll retire. Val is expecting me. Is Lucia waiting for you, Rogue?" Malkent put a special emphasis on the duchess's name.

  "I sincerely doubt it," Robin said, his eyes never leaving Clarissa's as he speculated upon the blatant invitation he read in those honey-brown pools. "Yes," he said after a moment. "Yes, I think I will join you at Vauxhall, my lady." He gave her a predatory smile, his teeth sharp and white in his tanned face.

  ***

  Peter was not pleased to discover that Robin was joining his party. He grew more and more dissatisfied as the evening progressed and Clarissa made her preferences painfully obvious. Laughing at Lynkellyn's every sally, she hung on his arm, slapping his hand with her fan when he was too free with her, teasing him with glimpses of ivory bosom when he was not.

  Robin found Clarissa's antics familiar and unamusing. Her 'petulant child' act irritated him. He was not feeling particularly avuncular tonight, he reflected with brooding contempt as he broached his second bottle of brandy.

  His thoughts strayed constantly to Lucia. Every move, every smile, every word Clarissa uttered triggered some bittersweet memory of his bride, but since he couldn't have Lucia, he would settle for La Chalfont and brandy. Lots of brandy.

  Growling his farewell, Norworth finally surrendered his claim to Clarissa...for the night, at least...and departed. Robin offered to escort her home, knowing full well what would follow.

  Their lovemaking was not satisfying in the least. Although he was touching Clarissa, his mind was full of Lucia; of her silken ebony tresses carpeting the pillow; of her eyes deepening to the purple-blue of the stormy Caribbean as he caressed and kissed her; of her hot, writhing body melting with his in thrashing, throbbing, unbridled pleasure.

  After a struggle, Robin surrendered to his heart, closed his eyes, and pretended that Clarissa was Lucia. That fantasy, though it possessed an exquisite pain all its own, brought him the physical release he needed. When it was over, he quickly turned his back to Clarissa. He could not bear to gaze into hazel eyes when he was dreaming of sweet, sultry amethysts. A few minutes later, brandy and natural exhaustion to
ok their toll. He slept.

  ***

  Waking before first light, Lucia lay silent in her cold, empty bed, missing the cozy shelter of Robin's arms. After all the times he had ignored her wishes in favor of his own, why, she wondered wretchedly, had he chosen this occasion to be a gentleman? She stared at the communicating door between their quarters, longing for him to force his way into her chamber and demand his pleasure. She shivered deliciously as she imagined him stroking her... kissing her...wanting her. Then she blushed at her own wantonness.

  Throwing off the covers, she got out of bed. The chill morning air seeped through her thin nightgown and she grabbed a blanket, wrapping it snugly around her shoulders. Padding, barefoot, to the window, she pushed back the curtains to watch the sun rise, its' soft red-gold streaks flashing like Robin's tawny tresses.

  Yesterday when she had left Lynkellyn House on Viscount Norworth's arm, Robin had been furious at her defiance, but beneath all his bluster and rage, he had also seemed to be suffering. The confusion and pain in his eyes tore at her heart and, desperate to prove to him that he could not rule her, she had rushed out the door before her resolve wavered.

  It would seem that she was not proof against his unhappiness just as she had never been proof against his caresses, always yielding when he touched her, melting when his lips found hers despite every effort to remain indifferent. Yesterday's kiss had transcended all else. At that besotted moment, she had forgotten all her animosities and resentments and all the ugly little details of her captive life with him. She had been willing...nay; eager...to give him her body, and her soul, to trust him completely and implicitly. To trust him! Her mind reeled away from that idea as if it had touched fire.

  She was dangerously close to falling in love with this undeserving villain and she had no idea how to curb her wayward heart, but if she surrendered to its demands, she would be forever lost. Her only recourse, then, would be to flee as fast as she could before Robin discovered her weakness and used it against her. Yesterday when his kiss had touched her so deeply she had almost given herself away, she had used Lord Norworth as a shield and he had proven a willing accomplice. Perhaps if she cultivated the viscount's friendship and distanced herself from Robin, her heart would take a safer course.