Rogues Always Wear Black: A Steamy British Historical Romance Novel (Forbidden Kisses Book 1)

by Catherine Mayfair

  Then her thoughts turned to her sisters. She hoped their feet were swift and that they had been able to make it to safety. And as she thought on these things, she thought of Stephen, the Man in Black. Though he would be unable to save her life, he had saved far more than that.

  He had saved Constance and her sisters from marriages they did not want. He had shown them a life of honor that they had never seen before. And above all, he had saved Constance’s heart from being closed off forever, a heart that was now filled with love.

  As she thought these things, and as Hawk closed in on her like a predator on its prey, Constance cried with joy, for the sweet melody, much like that of a bird, trilled in reply.

  ***

  Stephen rode back to the place where he and Louisa had found the hair comb, but Louisa was nowhere to be seen. He looked over his surroundings and the sound hurried of feet crunching leaves came to his ears. No animal would create that sound, and neither would Louisa.

  “Hello?” Stephen called. “Who’s there?”

  Emma and Mary emerged from a cluster of bushes, both sobbing, and Stephen’s heart clenched as he leaped from his horse.

  “Constance…” Mary cried, “He is…that man…Louisa is hurt!”

  “Which way?” Stephen asked.

  Mary pointed down the path Louisa had taken. “There is a cottage…”

  Stephen placed a hand on each of the women’s shoulders. “Return to the woods and do not come out until I tell you. Stay hidden, but do not return to the cottage.”

  “But…”

  He gave them a pointed look. “I mean what I say. Remain as silent as you were taught, but remain here.”

  Both women stared at the ground, their bodies trembling beneath his grip, but he did not have time to coddle them.

  “Go! Now!”

  This seemed to jolt them back to reality, and they nodded and hurried back the way they had come.

  Stephen hurried to his horse, mounted, and flicked the reins. Constance was close, and according to Mary and Emma, Louisa was hurt; he had to get there before something terrible happened.

  As the road bent to the right, he heard a familiar sound - the whistle of a bird, but louder than natural. Constance was close. Just after the bend in the road, a small cottage sat on the left. He could just make out the figures of several people, and he urged the horse faster.

  Anger overtook him when he saw Constance scramble from the grasp of a man as large as Luke. Then his heart cried in pain when he saw Louisa lying on the ground, her hands clutching her stomach and blood drenching the dead leaves beneath her.

  He leaped from the horse and reached for his knife just as the giant turned to face him. It was only on rare occasions that Stephen was afraid, and this was one of them. Memories flooded his mind of when he was a young boy and he and his mother lay dying on the side of the road. He had seen the life drain from his mother’s body that day, and as his mother died at his side, he had vowed to take vengeance.

  Now that day had arrived, for her killer now stood before him. The fear that had gripped him momentarily dissipated, replaced with a sense of knowing. Their paths had finally crossed after all these years.

  “So, the Man in Black has arrived,” the giant said with a chuckle. “To save the woman he loves, no less.”

  Stephen twirled his knife as he took small side steps, circling the large man, but he said nothing in reply.

  “I am Hawk,” the man continued, “the greatest hunter in all of England. No one can best me.”

  “Stephen, be careful!” Constance cried as she moved to stand, but Hawk doubled up his fist and struck her in the face, sending her crashing to the ground once more.

  Although he winced, it took every bit of focus to keep Stephen from rushing to her side; yet, if he allowed his anger to guide his steps, they would all lose.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said when he saw that Constance was all right. “Go to Louisa.” He moved closer, still circling the giant slowly, and Hawk grinned as he produced a large blade.

  “So, this is the infamous Man in Black?” he said with a mocking laugh. “The man whose tales are told in public houses near and far.” He narrowed his eyes, his laughter now gone, and spat on the ground beside him. “You are nothing.”

  Stephen forced a small smile. “My name is Stephen Chambers, Seventh Earl of Hartford. For a dozen years, I have searched for you.”

  Hawk tilted his head. “Is that so? Now, why would you do that?”

  “You killed an innocent woman and left her son on the road to die.”

  The giant gave him a thoughtful look. “Yes,” he said, his grin widening as he joined Stephen in his circling. “I remember you. I heard your cries at being unable to help her as I took everything you owned. You were weak as a boy then, and I see in your eyes that you have not changed a bit.”

  “The boy you left for dead did indeed die. Now a man stands in his place, one who will take vengeance for the death of his mother.” Before allowing Hawk to respond, Stephen lurched forward, plunging his knife toward the man’s stomach, but the giant was faster than Stephen expected, and the blade missed.

  Hawk slammed a fist into Stephen’s jaw, sending him stumbling back, Hawk’s laughter echoing in his ears.

  “You cannot best me!” Hawk said, slashing again at Stephen.

  From the corner of his eye, Stephen glimpsed Constance crawl away. He rolled twice and then jumped back up to his feet. “You must try harder,” Stephen taunted, waving his knife at the man. “I’m much too quick for you now.”

  The giant grinned and made to go left, but Stephen went right, evading the coming blow. As Stephen twisted to avoid another stab of the knife, his foot caught between two stones, and he went crashing to his knees.

  “Now, like that mother of yours, you will die,” Hawk said, standing over Stephen, the blade raised above his head.

  A great sense of failure washed over Stephen; the vengeance he had spent the majority of his life hoping to fulfill, would not happen. He had not only failed himself and his mother, but when he died, Constance would be left to this man’s mercy.

  Constance crawled up, and Hawk reached down and grabbed her by the throat.

  “No!” Stephen groaned. Fear forced him to his feet, and in one swift movement, he buried the knife into Hawk’s chest to the hilt. Hawk released Constance, who crumpled to the ground, gasping for air and clutching at her throat as the giant teetered before slamming on his back on the ground.

  Stephen crawled over, removed the knife and wiped it clean on Hawk’s shirt as blood bubbled from the man’s mouth. “It would be merciful to end your life quickly rather than to allow you to suffer,” he said as he returned the knife to its sheath. “But you deserve no mercy.”

  “You…” Hawk sputtered before letting out a groan and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Now, it’s over,” Stephen said. “I have avenged my mother.”

  The man named Hawk lay still, and Stephen looked up sharply as Constance cried his name. “Stephen! Hurry!”

  With quick strides, Stephen ran over and fell beside Louisa, whose hands were stained red with blood.

  “It appears,” Louisa whispered, her breathing shallow, “I will not survive this outing.”

  Stephen shook his head. “No, this cannot happen. I’m sorry! I did not mean for any of this to happen.” He took Louisa’s hand in his, not caring about the blood that covered it. His heart wrenched.

  “You…have done nothing wrong,” she said. “Your mother is avenged, and Constance is safe. Live your life,” she coughed weakly, “live your life with your heart. Will you do this for me?”

  Stephen nodded. “I will.” He brushed back a strand of red hair from her face.

  “You must do me a favor.” Louisa’s lips and body trembled as if chilled.

  “Anything,” Stephen replied. “We will do whatever you wish.”

  “Charles, my son, my sweet boy. You…must raise him…as your own. Love him and guide
him, both of you.”

  Stephen glanced at Constance, whose face was wet with tears. “We shall,” he said. “Have no doubt, he will be well cared for.”

  Louisa’s eyes went wide. “It…it’s beautiful,” she said. “It was I who saved you that day, and now…you have given me peace knowing that Charles will be…”

  She spoke no other words and her chest stilled.

  Constance joined him and buried her head in his chest. Stephen held her tightly, and the sun peeked over the horizon, washing the three friends in a pink light. Pain filled Stephen as he looked down at the woman who had saved him, the woman who had been as close as a sister, the woman who had given her life for the one he loved. And for that, he would be forever grateful.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A month passed since the death of Lady Louisa Dewhirst, and Constance found that she missed the woman more than she would have thought. Louisa, once she and Constance had become friends, had taught Constance so much, had shared so much, but it was the woman’s bravery of giving her own life in order to save Constance that she would always cherish.

  There was something more that Louisa had given her, a gift worth more than any riches or jewels and something Constance cherished above all else - Charles. The young man had taken the loss of his mother with great courage, and though he was still sad, he made remarkable strides in dealing with his grief. That his mother’s killer had met his own death more than likely attributed to that, or so Constance suspected. He would not be driven by the same rage as Stephen had been, and Constance was glad for that.

  Standing in the small office of Sweetspire Estates, Constance gazed out the window into the garden, watching Stephen as he walked by. Autumn had come to them early, the leaves already changing to yellows, oranges, and browns, a few falling from branches as Stephen walked beneath them. The loss of Louisa had taken its toll on him, and his smile made few appearances.

  “Miss Constance?” Charles asked from behind her.

  Constance turned and smiled at the young boy, who stood in a new suit. One day he would be a handsome man with a kind heart that matched his mother’s. He would make a fine marquess.

  “I have told you before,” she said in a playfully admonishing tone, “there is no need to call me Miss Constance. It’s simply Constance.” She ruffled the boy’s dark hair and stopped when she noticed his frown. “Only if you want to, of course. You may call me whatever you like.”

  The boy’s frown deepened. “That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. I have already spoken to Emma and Mary.”

  Constance scrunched her brow and glanced up to see her sisters standing in the doorway, both wearing smiles as Emma nodded at Charles.

  “What is it you want?” she asked as she took the boy’s hand in hers. Was he hurting more than he had let on all this time? She certainly hoped not; they had all done all they could to give him every opportunity to grieve. “You know you may tell me anything.”

  Charles sighed. “Stephen…he’s not my real father, but he always treats me like I’m his son, so he can be my father, right?”

  Constance pursed her lips in thought. “This is true, for it is the love in his heart and that in yours that brings you together as father and son.”

  This seemed to please the boy, for he smiled. His blue eyes searched her face for a moment before he spoke again. “I asked Mary and Emma to be my sisters, and they said yes.”

  Constance nodded, her eyes misting. What a sweet child!

  “And if they are my sisters,” Charles continued in a regal tone, “and you are to look after me, you must be my new mother.” He wore a thoughtful expression for a moment. “Well, they would be my aunts, but that’s all right, I suppose; I’ll still consider them my sisters. What I want to know is if I may call you Mother instead of Miss Constance?”

  Tears welled in her eyes as her heart went out to the boy. “You most certainly can, and I would be honored to call you my son.”

  He threw his arms around her, and she held him close, kissing him on the head. Her heart could not have been more filled than it was at this very moment.

  “My mother told me you were a good woman, and that I should listen to you. Now that you are my mother, I really must do that.”

  Constance laughed even as she blinked back tears. “Yes, you do…my son.” The words came easier than she had thought they would. “I’m proud of how strong you are. You must know that you may speak to me or your sisters about anything. If you are hurting, or if you have any questions, we are here with a ready ear.”

  “That is because we’re family,” Charles replied with a firm nod. “I’m going to do my lessons for the day.”

  “Good,” Constance said, kissing his head once more.

  The boy hurried to the door, and Mary and Emma placed a hand on his shoulder to lead him to the room they used as a school room.

  Sighing, Constance thought of the boy’s wishes. She was no longer just a lady or a guardian of a young orphan, but she was to be the boy’s mother. It was an honor she would carry forth with all her heart and soul.

  She glanced out the window once more. Charles had mentioned Stephen as a part of his family, and it was time that she told him this marvelous news. Perhaps it would bring up his spirits. She hoped it would, for she missed his pleasing smile.

  ***

  A cool gentle breeze blew and the sky was a light gray as Constance made her way down the stone path that led to where Stephen stood. So many issues continued to plague Constance, issues she wanted to discuss with Stephen, topics of conversation that had been left silent since the night of Louisa’s death. Whether or not today would be the day they would resurrect what needed to be discussed remained to be seen, but she wanted to see her friend all the same.

  Stephen wore his customary black as he gazed over the horizon, and Constance felt the love inside her grow stronger.

  “Charles told me of his wish,” Stephen said without turning to see that it was she who stood watching him. “He is right; you will make a wonderful mother for him.”

  Constance raised her brows in surprise. So, Charles had already told him? “I will do my best. I’m honored at his request and that he trusts me so.”

  Stephen still had not turned to look at her. “It’s what Louisa would have wanted, after all, that we look after Charles.”

  Constance nodded, but said nothing. What could she say?

  He gave a heavy sigh. “I miss her. The woman knew me better than almost anyone. But her time has passed, and now she will live on through her son.”

  “That is true.” Constance placed a hand on his arm. “Together, we will see the boy grows to be the man he is meant to be.”

  Several leaves lifted in the air around their feet as Stephen turned toward her. “The last conversation of meaning you and I had took place right here,” he said. “And that day, you spoke words to me that I must admit I did not like.”

  “I know, and for that I’m sorry.”

  “No, do not apologize.” He closed his hand around hers. “You were right. There was a reason my heart was closed off, and I could not bring myself to tell you how I felt. I thought my problems stemmed from my revenge for the man named Hawk, or perhaps a vigilance for the danger of the forest. But in truth, you named it for what it was - I was unable to forgive myself. For a dozen years, I carried the burden of not saving my mother.”

  He looked down, and though he did not shed a single tear, Constance could hear his pain. Her heart went out to him as she gave his hands a gentle squeeze, and he looked up at her.

  “I have forgiven myself, finally.”

  “I’m happy for you,” she said. “You may now live in peace.”

  “I could, but one thing prevents me from doing so. I have a regret that continues to plague me.”

  Constance raised a brow. “Oh? And what would that be?”

  He clasped both her hands in his and brought them to his lips. “I regret pushing away a particular woman before I could tell
her what was on my heart.”

  “If that is true,” she whispered, “then you must speak it.” Loose strands of her hair swirled about her face, but she ignored them, for she could see nothing but the man who gazed down at her.

  “I would rather live only one more year and love you than live a hundred and not. There is no doubt that I love you. So, I must ask you something of the greatest importance.”

  She stared up at the man who held her heart. “Then by all means, ask away.”

  “Will you give me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart swelled. “Of course,” she whispered.

  He pulled her into his arms, and Constance raised her face. Their lips came together, and her heart filled with love. It was the love of two people who were once scarred from the past and never wanting to hurt again. But as they held one another, the leaves scattering around them, Constance understood something very significant.

  Love could never guarantee that one would never be hurt again. Instead, it promised something far more beautiful. It provided a way for two souls to come together as one to share whatever pained them and to triumph over it - together.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  For three Sundays, the banns were read. By the end of the following month, no one had come forth to halt their marriage. Constance had worried that Phillip would be the first, or Lord Fletcher, but neither made any appearance. She imagined it helped that none knew from where she came, and so the banns never made their way to those two men.

  Autumn was upon them, the trees now bereft of their leaves, but the forest floor was now abundant with vibrant colors. A light wind whistled through the empty branches, an unseasonable warmth to the air.

  Constance wore a white dress, simpler than one she would have worn if she had married Lord Fletcher, but she loved it nonetheless. It had puffed sleeves, a silver belted waist, and silver lace on the bodice. A layer of silver lace covered the skirts, and it billowed out in the wind as she looked out over the thick clusters of trees of the forest. This was her second home, a place she and her sisters had found refuge from their stepfather and the men to whom he had sold them.