Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2)

by James, Judith

  Jack gave a sharp whistle and a stable boy came on the run, skidding to a stop with gaping mouth and eyes as round as saucers. “I seen your face on the broad sheets I have. You be him! Swift Nick the highwayman!”

  “Aye, lad.” Jack flipped the boy a coin. “But highwayman no more. Pardoned and fast friends with King Charlie himself. Swift Nick is a changed man now.”

  The boy turned his attention to what really interested him. “Is this her? Black Bess? The one that—”

  “Aye, this is she. Fetch your master for me now, boy, on the sneak, mind, and when you get back you can walk and water her while he and I talk.”

  “How is it you use every name but your own, Jack?” Arabella asked as the boy scurried off.

  “I’ve a mind to keep my freedom and my head for as long as I might, Bella. I’ve avoided using violence against those I rob, and I usually wear a mask. England is a big land. The more names I’m known by, the faster I move, the more confusion there is as to who I am. I like it that way. Mystery is doubt, and doubt can make the difference between the gallows and walking free. Was it Mr. Nicks? Mr. Nevison, Swift Nick, Mr. Johnson, William, Jack, Samuel, John or James? Swift Nick was seen tonight just outside of London, while Gentleman Jack was seen the night before in Newark. As for John…hardly anyone knows him and he’s never run afoul of the law. That’s a secret I share with very few and I should like it to stay that way.”

  “Of course. I am not one to break a confidence, I assure you. But wouldn’t the better course be simply to avoid those activities which might—”

  He grinned and tugged gently on a lock of her hair. “The answer is ‘no,’ and as there’s no adequate way to explain it to you, I shan’t even try. Look now. Here comes Nate. He was once a high-pad himself, and though he’s married and gone respectable, he’s still a rum colt. We can rely on him.”

  “A colt?”

  “An innkeeper who is a helper of sorts, with lending mounts and other things.” His grin flashed white in the night.

  “He is a criminal too?”

  “Of course not! Not anymore. He is a good friend. He merely caters to a diverse clientele.”

  A portly man in a rich, gold-brocaded vest and a fine velvet coat hurried over to greet them, a beaming smile on his face.

  “Jack, you bog-trotting son of the devil! ’Tis grand to see you, indeed! You’ve been far too scarce in London as of late. Mary will be all aflutter and we shall dine exceptionally well tonight because of it.” He turned to look at Arabella with undisguised curiosity, taking note of her bruises and her swollen lip, her disordered but finely cut clothing, and what was clearly a gentleman’s coat wrapped about her shoulders. “Is the lass another of your projects, then? I’m sure Mary has room for one more. And how is young Allen by the way?”

  “Allen has grown since last you saw him, Nate. And so have you! He eats as much as a regiment of foot. Be glad I foisted him on someone else.”

  Nate patted his belly proudly. “’Tis the sign of a successful businessman, old friend. Drinking and dining on the sweet fruit of his own labors.”

  “Then you have been successful indeed,” Jack said with a grin. “My companion is Miss Hamilton. We have journeyed a long way together, but I’m afraid I’ve accompanied the lady as far as I might. I would have you see her safely home in my stead. Personally, and with the utmost care and circumspection. She will need trustworthy guards. Civil and presentable enough to act as footmen. Two for her home, and at least one more to accompany her about her business. A dependable man with military training, not a street thug. Will Butcher perhaps, as a favor to me. If you can arrange this for her, you’ll have my gratitude.”

  The innkeeper grinned, looking from Jack to Arabella and back again. “My wife and I owe you our happiness, Jack. It’s a delight to help you and your lady in any way we can. Mary is always saying how happy she’d be to see you take an interest in a nice—”

  Arabella broke in, suddenly mindful of the proprieties. “I thank you very much for your kindness, Mr. Tully. Truly, I cannot tell you how grateful I am. But I must correct you. I am not Jack…that is Mr. Nick’s lady, but very much my own.”

  Mr. Tully winked at Jack. “I see you’ve still got some convincing to do, lad. It’s always the way with the spirited ones, but of course, that’s half the fun. Why even today my Mary—”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt, Nate. But I’ve still urgent business and hard riding ahead. You will see her home? You understand why it’s best she not be seen with me?”

  “I can and I will and I do, lad. Though next time I’ll be expecting a proper visit.”

  Jack nodded. “You have my word on it. As for the girl, if it happens that she has been ill, or visiting a friend…?”

  “The wife and I can vouch for it. Naturally, we know most of the comings and goings in London of folk both big and small. Our version of the latest gossip passes as gospel in these parts.”

  Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. I knew I could count on you. Give my regards to Mary and tell her next time I’ll be expecting some of her plum pudding and honeyed beef.”

  “Aye, I’ll do that. I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes now. Give a whistle when you want me to fetch her, Jack. And welcome to The Angel, Miss Hamilton.”

  ~

  I can find my own way home from here, Jack. I don’t need to be fetched and escorted about,” Arabella said as he took her by the arm and pulled her into a stairwell in the courtyard. She didn’t know why she should feel so out of sorts when home and safety were at last so close at hand, but there was a queer panic in her heart, and she was unaccountably close to tears at the thought of saying goodbye.

  “Yes, you do, Arabella. It is safe inside the inn, but you mustn’t travel alone or even walk alone outside it. Trust no one but Nate and Mary. This is a dangerous area. A harbor for thieves and highwaymen, most of whom don’t share my scruples about using violence.” He straightened her collar with his free hand. “They gather here to prey on travelers. The wiser customers meet at the bottom of St. John Street and make their way to the inn in groups under armed guard. Pray put my mind at ease. Stay here for tonight and in the light of day, Nate will find you men you can trust, and see you safely home.”

  “Yes of course. You make them sound like fishermen lining the banks when the salmon are ready to run—all of them hoping to snatch a fine fish. You needn’t worry. I shall do as you recommend. It’s rather odd though. Most of my life I’ve felt safe and protected in my father’s halls, but I was often bored and lonely. I’ve never felt as frightened as I have in these past few days, but nor have I ever felt so gloriously alive. No sky has ever been so beautiful. No evening air has smelled as sweet. No ride has been so thrilling.” She looked at him with luminous eyes.

  He smiled, and brushed his knuckles gently across her swollen cheek. “Those are dangerous thoughts, Bella.”

  “Is danger always so exciting?”

  “Yes…to some.” He wrapped his finger around a glistening tendril of her hair and drew it out its full length. “Will you allow me a keepsake of my adventure with the daring Belle de nuit?”

  Breathless, she gulped and nodded. A wicked looking dagger appeared, and with a soft snick he cut one long lock, and put it in his pocket. It was a romantic gesture, but it filled her heart with sorrow. Soon he would be lost to the night, and something wonderful would come to a close. She didn’t want him to remember her. You remembered what was gone. She wanted this night to never end. She wanted him to stay.

  “I suppose I should give you back your coat.” It was all she could think to say.

  “That’s not necessary, Bella. Keep it. Let it keep you warm.”

  But she was already struggling out of it. The coat was far too big for her and her arm caught in her sleeve as she tried to shrug it off.

  “Here. Let me help,” he said with a low chuckle. The struggle to free her arm drew her closer, and his low laugh cut off abruptly as their eyes ca
ught and held.

  I thought his eyes dark and shadowed, but now they are amber in the torch light. At times, it almost seems like they’re aflame. Arabella was intensely aware of his parted lips, the feel of his fingers wrapped around her upper arm, and the rise and fall of his chest, just inches from hers. She watched, mesmerized, as he lowered his head toward her, holding her breath as he nuzzled the curve of her shoulder and neck. His breath was warm against her ear, sending shivers through her body, and she turned into him. His eyes gleamed and she made no protest as he lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss was careful, gentle, mindful of her bruises, but it thrilled her to her toes.

  Heedless of all the lessons she’d been taught, she stood up on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and hesitant, curious…she kissed him back. He groaned and hugged her tight against him, backing her into the wall, the fingers of one hand threading through her hair as his mouth claimed hers in a heated caress. Her lips, already swollen and tender, ached with pain and pleasure. The feel of him pressed against her, his arms around her...made her forget all else. She didn’t want it to stop, she didn’t want him to leave, and she sighed when he finally pulled away.

  “My apologies, Lady Hamilton,” he said with a shaky laugh.

  “Please don’t do that.”

  “Do what? Kiss you?”

  “Please don’t apologize. That was my first kiss, Jack. Do you regret it?”

  His lips curled in a slight smile and he caught her chin between thumb and forefinger. “A starry night, a lady brave and bold, a first kiss. You have been an adventure well worth the risk, Bella, and I don’t regret a thing.”

  The way he said her name warmed her like a caress. “I owe you so much. How can I ever repay you?”

  “Come and find me if they ever catch me, and give me a kiss to warm my soul before I hang.” He brushed her bruised lips with a kiss as soft as a whisper, and she stepped fully into his embrace.

  His fingers traced her neckline with a delicate touch, leaving shivers of sensation that rippled through her body and made her nipples ache and harden as if from the cold. He caressed her collarbone, and then spread his hand wide and slipped it under the cool rope of her necklace, to lie warm against her skin. Her heart thrummed beneath his palm. He deepened his kiss as his fingers toyed with the faintly glowing moonlit strand encircling her throat. Traveling its length, his knuckles brushing the tender skin peeping from her modest décolletage to linger a moment, barely touching, just below her ear.

  He felt her tremble. He felt a moment of knee-weakening lust, surprising tenderness, and unexpected regret, and then he plucked her necklace from her neck, and dropped it in his pocket.

  “Jack?” She stared at him in stunned surprise, clutching her throat. “What are you doing? That was my mother’s!”

  “I warned you, Bella. I am a highwayman.” He let out a piercing whistle and Bess came galloping, with Nate not far behind. “Keep her safe, Nate,” he called as he caught the swift moving mare by the mane and swung easily onto her back. Wheeling about to face Arabella, he bowed from the waist and tipped his hat with a flourish. “Adieu, Bella! Until we meet again.” The black horse reared up, taking several steps backwards, and then leapt forward. A moment later horse and rider were swallowed by the night.

  Arabella stood there, staring into the dark. She could hear the bustle from the inn behind her. Someone was playing a fiddle. An argument was growing heated on an upper floor. A carriage rumbled by on the road behind her and somebody slammed a door. They were ordinary sounds on an ordinary night. She felt for her necklace, but both it and her highwayman were gone. I have just awoken from a dream. Her overwhelming feeling was one of loss.

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  JUDITH JAMES BOOKS AND REVIEWS

  Rakes and Rogues of the Restoration #1

  Libertine’s Kiss

  Nominated Romantic Times Best British Isles' Historical

  Booklist starred review

  Romantic Times Top Pick

  AAR Desert Island Keeper

  Judith James’ RAKES AND ROGUES OF THE RESTORATION transports you to the thrilling days of highwaymen, cavaliers, courtiers, and spies. Rich with history and sizzling with passion, these are love stories you won’t soon forget!

  #1 LIBERTINE'S KISS: England, 1658—Having put a troubled youth firmly behind him, William de Veres—military hero, noted rake and close friend of the king—rises swiftly in the ranks of the hedonistic Restoration court. Though not before he is forced to seek shelter from a charming young Puritan woman. By opening her door to a wounded cavalier, the widowed Elizabeth Walters unwittingly endangers all she holds dear, opens a door to her past, and changes her life forever. Can a promise made between childhood friends lead to a new beginning? Can a debauched court poet and notorious libertine convince the wary Elizabeth he is capable of love? The first in a series of 17th century romantic historicals, an AAR Desert Island Keeper and an RT nominee for Best British Isles Historical, this book tells the story of two childhood sweethearts torn apart by civil war and reunited following the restoration of Charles II to the throne. It features a hero based on the notorious libertine, poet and close friend to the king, John Wilmot Earl of Rochester

  “Fueled by sizzling sensuality and sharp wit, James’ refreshingly different historical deftly re-creates the glittering, colorful court of Charles II while also delivering an unforgettable love story.”

  ~John Charles, Booklist starred review

  “There are books I love to the point of wanting everybody I know to go out and buy a copy. Libertine’s Kiss is one of those rare books. Judith James juggles poetry, Restoration court culture, and fairytale references with an almost perfect sense of timing, and the result is a world that springs vividly to life. Rather than simplifying the historical details of the day, the author weaves their many threads into her story, letting readers see her world in its many layers of light and dark just as her characters would have. The result is a story that is sweeping and epic. I find myself wanting to compare it to something, but there is really nothing out there quite like this.”

  ~Lynn Spencer, All About Romance Desert Isle Keeper Review

  “Historical details, poetic quotations and fictional characters based on real individuals blend perfectly in Libertine’s Kiss. Judith James’ characters are wonderfully crafted...William and Elizabeth’s story is compelling, sexy as can be and expertly told... Libertine’s Kiss is everything a historical romance should be and more. Don’t miss this one!”

  ~Joyce Greenfield, ReaderToReader.com

  “Readers will find this poignant love story enthralling and unforgettable.”

  ~Kathe Robin, Romantic Times top pick

  “To get a 9 out of me, an author has to give me characters I can relate to, people who have problems that they face with bravery, honor and humor. The characters need a setting so vivid I feel like I’m there. The plot must avoid easy romance clichés, and the author has to use English in ways that make each sentence a pleasure to read. Libertine’s Kiss is most definitely a 9.”

  The Season top pick

  “Libertine’s Kiss is a captivating story of love lost and found. Penned with clarity and emotion, its poignancy is tangible...a wonderful story of passion, promises made and broken, and a love that stands the test of time.”

  ~Joyfully Reviewed

  “Readers will not be able to resist this charming tale of childhood sweethearts who are reunited later in life to become each other’s salvation.”

  ~Romance Novel News

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  Libertine’s Kiss

  1658

  Night had descended hours ago. He wandered a dark wilderness that was almost void of form. The sound of musket fire and the shouts of his pursuers had faded in the gathering storm. Now a mounting wind moaned and whistled, snapping off branches and rattling trees as thunder rumbled in the distance. The ice-cold rain, driven by angry gusts, fell in stinging sheets that raked his cheeks and turned the ground
beneath him slick and treacherous. Thick oily mud squelched under his feet, gulping greedily at his ankles and clutching at his boots, and the torn bits of cloth wrapped tight around gashes in his arm and thigh were heavy with water, mud and blood.

  He labored forward, fighting the elements and his own fatigue. His ragged breath strained in his ears. He clasped his injured arm tight against his chest, protecting it and the battered leather pouch strapped snug beneath his shirt. It was an unconscious act. For the past hour, all his attention had been fixed on a lonely flicker of light, wavering in the distance. Friend or foe, for now it was his only beacon. His exertions had opened his wounds. He was losing blood and heat and soon he would lose consciousness.

  He limped to a halt at the edge of a small clearing. The rain had eased a bit, though the wind still battered in sudden whooping squalls. The feeble light had resolved itself into a warm glow that cast just enough illumination to coax shape and substance from the shadows. It emanated from the windows of a substantial cottage. His eyes flit here and there, coolly assessing. Isolated, two stories tall, built of brick and tidy stone; it was fitted with a solid slate roof and bay windows, and was too fine to belong to a simple farmer. A wealthy merchant or a gentleman’s hunting retreat perhaps, and potentially dangerous depending on whom was at home.

  He listened intently. The house was quiet. No shouts, no laughter, no sounds of brawling or signs of horses, supplies or armed men. No signs it had been commandeered by Cromwell’s forces. His teeth flashed in a predatory grin and the fingers of his good hand twitched, then reached to caress the hilt of his saber. He needed shelter. Weapon drawn, keeping to the shadows, he crept forward.