Redeeming the Rogue Knight

by Elisabeth Hobbes

  ‘It seemed easier to continue the fiction and spare your brother’s reputation, seeing as you thought so little of me. What else would a man like me do?’

  He sauntered to the counter and righted a cup, pouring a measure of ale, which he knocked back in one go.

  ‘Now my reputation has been restored and the lad’s blackened there’s nothing more to do here. Let’s have a drink and be on our way.’ He filled two more cups.

  ‘You’re coming with us?’ Gilbert rumbled.

  Roger gave a charming smile, the sort that he must have given to a hundred women before Lucy. It looked out of place and it struck Lucy that she hadn’t seen an insincere expression on his face for days.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re searching for, but whatever Thomas cheated you out of, he cheated me also. I want my share.’

  He sauntered along the counter towards the hearth. ‘You’ve torn this place apart thoroughly. Whatever you’re looking for clearly isn’t here so we’ll have to search elsewhere. We’ll take the lad to show us where to look and what we’re looking for.’

  Wilmott eyed Lucy. ‘What about her?’

  Roger shrugged. ‘What of her?’

  Lucy’s eyes filled, blurring the room. She glared at Roger. He met her gaze and held it with the intensity he had shown when he promised unending affection.

  ‘Do you think I’d want to stay somewhere like this?’ he asked Wilmott. ‘Why, there isn’t even a decent fire to warm me on a cold morning.’

  He moved closer to the fire, prodding the poker deep.

  ‘Did you think I cared for her because she took me into her bed? Don’t you know my reputation?’ He regarded the room, slicking his hair back from his face. ‘I’m Sir Roger Danby, the man who has swived his way round half of France and most of England. I break hearts and ruin reputations. Can you imagine me falling in love?’

  He looked at Lucy, unblinking.

  ‘Can you imagine me lying awake, burning to be in the arms of a woman such as this one? My thoughts filled with nothing but her, hoping, wishing, praying that she might love me in return but knowing that I was undeserving of such a treasure?’

  His tone was mocking, but his eyes never left hers. Lucy nodded slowly, answering a question that had not been asked aloud. Roger dropped his hands to his side.

  ‘Could you imagine what I would do for a woman I loved, if I found such a woman? A woman worth dying for if necessary.’ He whipped his head round to face Wilmott, his eyes blazing. ‘And could you imagine what I would do to the man who hurt her?’

  He reached behind in one fluid movement, grasped the poker and spun it around. Before Lucy could cry out in warning he lunged towards Wilmott. Embers tumbled across the hearth. The rushes were still greasy from when Robbie had spilled the lamp oil and small flames began to flicker along the dry stalks. Wilmott hurled himself across the table, lunging at Lucy as the poker came down beside him, sending sparks flying. The linseed oil ignited, streaming across the table in a river of flame. Wilmott shrieked as his sleeve caught.

  Chaos erupted. Roger hurled himself on to Wilmott, reaching for the knife that had dropped from his hand. Foul smoke began to fill the room, seeping into lungs and eyes. Lucy ran towards the stairs, but was seized from behind by Gilbert who pinned her arms by her side. She squirmed wildly, beside herself with desperation to get to Robbie. The flames that had taken hold of the rushes grew higher, deadly fingers stroking Lucy’s skirts as she flailed. She screamed.

  ‘Thomas, get her out of here,’ Roger cried.

  Her brother roused himself and began to attack Gilbert with the leg of the stool. The large man dropped Lucy and raised his arms over his head, running for the doorway. Lucy beat at her skirts, ignoring the pain in her hands. Through watering eyes she saw Roger and Wilmott locked in a deadly wrestling match, raining blows on each other. The table tipped. Lucy watched, horrified, as both men lunged for the knife that had fallen to the floor. They scrabbled among the rushes, which ignited as the linen strips fell to the ground. Roger yelled in pain as one flapped against his hand and he shook it away. She thought she saw him gain possession of the weapon, but could not be sure because at that moment Thomas seized her by the waist and dragged her out of the building. He dropped her on the damp ground and turned on Gilbert, who was coughing and retching, and began kicking him in the stomach. Instantly Lucy ran back to the building. Roger met her coming out, colliding with her and knocking her sideways. Blood ran down his cheek and his eye was swollen. The knife in his hand was red to the hilt. Lucy pushed herself to her feet and ran for the door.

  ‘The flames are too fierce,’ Roger cried, grabbing her tightly by the arm. ‘We need to get water if we’re to save anything.’

  ‘Robbie’s upstairs,’ Lucy screamed, scrabbling to push past Roger.

  Without another word Roger spun and vanished inside, the door slamming behind him.

  ‘Help me over here,’ Thomas cried. Lucy tore her attention from the door to where her brother was still pummelling Gilbert.

  ‘Let him go,’ she cried. ‘Help Roger. He went back after my son. We have to put the fire out.’

  Thomas looked from the giant to the building.

  ‘There’s no sense in us dying, too.’

  Lucy dropped to her knees, his words gutting her. Smoke billowed from the window where she had removed the linen shutters. Thomas spoke sense. Following Roger inside would do no good, but she could not lose them. Either of them.

  ‘I don’t care. Go to the stream or you’ll live to regret it.’

  * * *

  Roger stumbled towards the stairs, eyes streaming. He had to pick his way through the rushes that were burning fiercely in clumps, growing larger as he watched. If only he had known Robbie was upstairs and that his makeshift weapon would lead to such catastrophic consequences. The fire was the result of his ill-conceived attempt to overpower Wilmott. What else could he have done though, with Lucy at risk?

  He leaned one-handed against the wall, clutching his aching ribs. Each lungful of the greasy smoke made the next breath harder to draw. He took the stairs two at a time.

  Robbie was absorbed in his game and squealed in alarm when Roger entered the room. The cat streaked out between Roger’s legs, causing him to swear in surprise. Robbie backed into the corner.

  ‘Robbie, your mama wants you to come with me,’ Roger called.

  Robbie blew a spit bubble and picked up his toy. ‘Hoss!’

  ‘I know. It’s a lovely horse.’ Roger held his hand out. ‘Let’s go play with it outside. Would you like me to teach you to ride a real horse one day?’

  Robbie stuck his bottom lip out, looking obstinate. Roger’s chest tightened, with panic as much as from the smoke. If he failed to get Lucy’s son to safety, he would not be able to live with the guilt. He was prepared to grab the boy forcibly if necessary, but there was no need. Holding his precious toy horse, Robbie toddled to Roger who knelt and held his arms out. With a trust that would leave Roger overwhelmed whenever he thought back to it, Robbie climbed on to his lap and put his arms around Roger’s neck.

  ‘It’s very hot downstairs. Take a deep breath,’ he whispered in Robbie’s ear.

  As an afterthought he pulled the blanket from the bed, wrapping it around Robbie, and headed downstairs into the ever-thicker smoke. The heat hit him like a fist and he reeled, head spinning. Robbie began to wail in fear, scuffling against Roger. Roger pulled Robbie’s head closer on to his chest. There was nothing to be gained by delaying. The cat clawed at the door, yowling in terror. Lucy waited on the other side, relying on him to carry Robbie to safety.

  Ignoring the pain as fire licked his legs, Roger thundered across the room and pushed his entire body weight against the door. It refused to open and it took Roger stomach-churning moments of panic to recall it opened inwards. He dragged it back. The c
at vanished outside and Roger was faced with Thomas and Gilbert bearing buckets of water that they flung into the room.

  He pushed past them, hurling himself outside to draw fresh air into his aching lungs. Through eyes that could barely focus he held Robbie out to Lucy. He felt the child taken from his arms. Relieved of his burden, he dropped to his knees and fell forward. Face down in the dirt, Roger allowed himself to slip from consciousness, no longer caring if he lived or died.

  * * *

  When Roger next became aware of anything it was that he was no longer lying face down. He opened his eyes, but saw only grey and began to panic as he imagined a life condemned to darkness. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry and the only sound that came out was a rasping, heaving retch. For some reason this resulted in cool hands seizing his face and pulling his head upward. He blinked and understood that the greyness filling his vision was Lucy’s lap. He felt himself lifted, clutched to a warm bosom. With difficulty he reached his hands out, fumbling for Lucy with a need that was too great to articulate. He heard a sob and something wet splashed his cheek, stinging the cut.

  ‘Is it me you’re weeping over, dove?’ he asked gruffly. His eyes finally began to obey his demands. Lucy’s face was twisted, her eyes swollen from crying.

  ‘Of course it is! I thought you were dead!’

  ‘Does that matter to you?’

  Lucy sagged down beside him, her hair brushing his cheek. In one arm she clutched Robbie as if she would never let go, but the other found room to pull Roger to her.

  ‘How could you even ask that? If you had died so would I.’

  The cuts on his face and ear stung, his shoulder ached and his hand was ablaze with agony, but Roger smiled through the pain. His throat was parched and he licked his dry lips. He craved water, but instead Lucy’s lips were pressing themselves against his as she kissed him with a frenzy that took Roger’s remaining breath away.

  He was vaguely aware of Thomas and Gilbert rushing back and forth with buckets, but could not summon the strength to aid them. He reached his arms around Lucy and Robbie, holding them both within his embrace, and they lay sprawled on the earth, three together, as he wanted it to be for the rest of his life.

  Some time later a voice demanded to know what Lucy thought she was doing, dragging Roger away from paradise. Thomas was red-faced with outrage.

  ‘You have some explaining to do first, lad,’ Roger growled. ‘I’ve guessed most, but I want to hear it from you. Get on with it before I tan your arse.’

  Thomas looked rebellious, but a sharp word from his sister had him confessing to theft from the profits of the Northern Company.

  ‘You always were a thief!’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘What did you do with it?’

  ‘I hid it in the brewing shed, on the rafters.’

  ‘You ruined my batch!’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘It was full of dust!’

  Roger laughed weakly at her indignation over such a minor matter. He had even noticed the difference in the two ends of the beams, one freshly dusted and the other encased in cobwebs, but had not understood the significance.

  ‘Better show us what you’ve got.’

  Thomas rushed off. Roger pulled Lucy closer.

  ‘Marry me. I asked you before and I’m asking again. I won’t accept a “no”.’

  ‘I’m not rich enough to be your wife.’

  ‘I don’t care about that. I’ll take you in the clothes you stand up in and nothing more. It’s you I want. Come with me to Yorkshire as my wife.’

  Lucy looked sceptical. ‘We barely know each other. Is such a short time enough to decide we’d suit each other?’

  Roger took her hand, circling his thumb in the palm. He knew her well enough to recognise the slight shiver she gave as evidence of the same desire he felt for her.

  ‘We’ll have a lifetime to get to know each other. I know this now—my life is better for having you in it. I’m better for having you in it.’

  Lucy clutched his hand tightly. Roger never discovered if she would have accepted because at that moment Thomas returned. He knelt beside Roger and revealed a small box. Gilbert joined them as Thomas opened the box. Roger and Gilbert swore. Lucy gasped.

  ‘What are they?’

  Roger tipped the contents into his hand. Three gold rings and the broken links of a heavy bracelet, all studded with matching blue stones, glinted in his palm.

  ‘Sapphires, I think!’

  ‘Those are mine,’ Gilbert growled. ‘They belong to the Company. They should have been divided along with the other spoils.’

  Roger closed his fist. He wondered who the original owners had been before they had died at the hands of the Company. He’d gladly hurl them into the sea rather than dwell on the fate he might have been party to, but that would not bring back their previous owners.

  ‘Your friend is dead. Your companion who attacked me on the road died also. This is your compensation.’ Roger flipped the smallest ring towards Gilbert who caught it. He lowered his voice. ‘Take it and don’t come back unless you want me to send you to join them.’

  With a snarl at Thomas, Gilbert lumbered off.

  ‘What about my share?’ Thomas asked, his eyes never leaving Roger’s hand.

  ‘You have your life!’ Roger snapped. ‘And Lucy’s inn.’

  He reached for Lucy’s hand and put the remaining rings and bracelet into it.

  ‘These are for you. They should more than pay what I owe you for my board and lodging, though nothing I have can repay the debt for saving my life. And for making me the sort of man I should be.’

  Lucy stared at the jewels, open-mouthed.

  ‘I can’t take these!’

  ‘Yes, you can. They belong to no one else.’

  Thomas began to protest, but Roger cut him off. ‘For the trouble you’ve caused, you’re lucky I’m not going to horsewhip you from here to London.’

  ‘Roger, he helped save your life. Does he deserve nothing for that?’ Lucy admonished.

  ‘And I still have the message for Hugh Calveley,’ Thomas added. ‘I kept it safe.’

  ‘You didn’t even manage to deliver it!’ Roger exclaimed. ‘I still have to traipse all over Cheshire after everything else I’ve endured! Why do you deserve anything?’

  Lucy put a hand on his arm and looked at him reproachfully with the cool eyes that made his pulse quicken. She held her palm out before him. Left to him alone the boy would get nothing, but when faced with such entreaty...

  Roger sighed inwardly, wondering if Lucy would always be able to raise his conscience with a single glance. He tugged one of the links free from the broken bracelet and held the stone out to Thomas.

  ‘Here. It’s yours. You can return to the Northern Company if you choose, or stay here and learn to brew. Perhaps your sister can give you some ideas if you ask her nicely.’

  Lucy was still staring at the remaining jewels.

  ‘They should buy you whatever sort of life you want. Respectability is easily come by when you’re rich.’

  He watched her eyes drift to plans he could only imagine and which he did not like to contemplate for fear they did not include him. When she straightened her back and glanced towards the inn, Roger threw caution to the wind.

  ‘It would be a handsome dowry. No husband could ask for more.’

  ‘You mean you, I suppose!’ Lucy put her hands on her hips and stared at Roger indignantly. ‘A fine suitor to give me such a gift, then demand it back!’

  Roger gazed at her in rapture. What other woman would accept a gift in such a manner? The forthright, belligerent Lucy he loved. Life with her would never be serene and he wanted nothing less. He grinned, then grew serious.

  ‘With any man you choose. Or none if you’d prefer. You could walk away now and no one would prevent you.’


  ‘No one would prevent me.’ She ran a finger across the sapphires, eyes taking on a faraway look again. Roger bit his lip. The choice had to be hers to make, but waiting was agony. Determination filled him and he could bear it no longer. He pulled her into his arms and brought her face close to his.

  ‘I wouldn’t presume to prevent you going, but if you leave me the sun will go out of my world, my heart will beat for nothing. I’ll spend my days and nights thinking only of you and regretting not telling you now that I love you. You’re richer than I am now. There’s nothing I have that you need...but perhaps there is something you want.’

  She raised her head and he saw in her eyes that the desire she had tried to hide was now fully visible for anyone who cared to look. And Roger cared very much. He put his lips close to her ear, speaking only for her to hear.

  ‘It would make a good heirloom, too, to pass on to any children we had. Any more besides Robbie, I mean.’

  Lucy glanced at her son, who was lost in the world of his toy horse.

  ‘I’ll treat him as my own,’ Roger promised. ‘He’ll never want for anything. He can be a squire, or a knight, or whatever he chooses to be.’

  ‘And what of me?’ Lucy asked. ‘How do I know you will stay true to me? That I’m not just a passing whim? That you won’t do to me what you did to others and what John Harpur did to me?’

  Roger had no answer, no proof beyond the sensation of his heart being bound to Lucy’s by the all-consuming love he felt for her.

  ‘I’m nothing like the men who have hurt you! Or at least, I don’t want to be any longer.’ He pulled Lucy’s hands back into his. ‘You said some harsh things to me yesterday. Now I think of it, you’ve said harsh things to me from the moment we met, and every one of them was deserved.’

  ‘Yes, they were!’

  Roger gave a soft laugh, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

  ‘That’s why I need you, Lucy. I am not good, or selfless, and I’ve done so many things that shame me deeply, but I’m a better man for knowing you and I can be better still. I want you in my life.’