Take My Heart (Heroic Rogues Series)

by Marie Higgins

  The past six weeks had seemed a dream. A wonderful dream where only William and his children resided. After helping Gabriel escape, she and William remained on their best behavior in front of the soldiers so as not to draw suspicion. It must have worked, because they were treated like royalty after that. They’d even gone to the Burwell’s on a few occasions for dinner parties.

  Mercedes glanced around the crowded room and smiled. The women now treated her as their equal instead of the loathsome creature who’d attended the Burwell’s weekend party. Mercedes had impressed them all. Mainly her own husband.

  And speaking of William...

  She spotted him with a group of men. The smile he wore was fixed upon his face as if he struggled to keep it there. The poor man still had to endure the talk and ridicule about his people. Their people. Their religion. Their freedom.

  Within minutes, William lifted his gaze to hers. Even from across the room his eyes sparkled with love. He motioned his head toward the side doors and she nodded.

  “Excuse me, Lady Burwell,” Mercedes cut the older woman off in mid-sentence, “but I need to step outside for a moment. The heat in the room is smothering me and I feel I might have the vapors.”

  Lady Burwell gasped and touched Mercedes’ arm. “Oh dear. Will you need help?”

  “No need to fear. My kind husband will attend me.”

  The other women in the circle nodded and smiled. Mercedes tried to walk with a calm reserve, but her heartbeat pounded a fast rhythm and she quickened her step. She narrowed her eyes and looked through the shadows. A few couples stood along the white picket fence along the shrubbery, but none had ventured further into the yard since it wasn’t lit properly.

  Then she saw him. The moonlight outlined his masculine shoulders and the curves of his face as he peeked around a section of shrubbery. She grinned and casually strolled toward him. As she neared, he reached out and grabbed her waist, quickly pulling her inside a darkened cove.

  “I missed you, my love.”

  She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his waiting lips. She met his demanding kiss with an urgency of her own, until he pulled away and smiled down at her.

  “Why, you scandalous devil.” She chuckled. “If we are caught, our names will be ruined.”

  “No. The men will be jealous, and the ladies will wish they were here with a man, too.”

  She slapped his shoulder. “You are terrible.”

  He tilted his head. “I am quite certain I can change your mind, love.”

  “And exactly how do you propose to do that, sir?”

  “Marry me. Tomorrow.”

  She blinked and her mouth hung open. “Wh...what? Marry you? But we are married.”

  “I was told of a minister a couple hours away who will marry us. Since our first marriage was done without the woman I love present, I want us to be married again before our baby is born.” He rubbed her belly not yet large with child. “God led you to me, Mercedes, and God will continue to bless us in our life.”

  “Yes, He has.”

  “So? Will you marry me in a church so that God will be with us always?”

  If she hadn’t loved this man before, she definitely loved him now. Her heart burst and tears gathered in her eyes.

  “Oh, William.” Her voice broke. She swiped her hand across his cheek before weaving her fingers through his hair. “You continue to surprise me at every turn. There is no way I can say no to you.”

  “Good. Because I will have plenty of surprises throughout our marriage. I cannot stop loving you, my beautiful woman.”

  He kissed her lips again, and she clung to him, answering back with all the emotion built inside her. It was hard to believe, but she’d found happiness. Finally.

  She need not pretend any longer. In William’s arms was where she wanted to be.

  ~The End~

  **READERS**

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  Falling In Love Again

  Book Two in the “Patriots’ Saga”

  © 2011 Marie Higgins

  Deceit, switching roles, and the pursuit of freedom come together in the hunt to discover who can be trusted – and who is really the traitor. Marcus Thorne is set on discovering secrets from the Royal Navy as he hides himself behind the mask of highwayman known as once a fearsome pirate, Captain Hawk. But when he takes over a stagecoach and his enemy’s daughter, Marcus plans on taking more than just spy’s secrets.

  When he discovers the lovely Isabelle Stanhope is also a spy, he sends her to land to get rid of her. Fortune is not on his side when his twin brother is killed and Marcus steps into the role of Viscount…and finds he’s now betrothed to Isabelle. Keeping his highwayman identity a secret, more surprises are thrown his way as he struggles to help the Patriots fight for their freedom, and keep from giving his new wife his heart.

  Through colorful and engaging characters, Falling In Love Again, brings adventure and suspense to life. With revenge, arranged marriages, and evil fathers, can Marcus and Isabelle really find love?

  SNEAK PEEK CHAPTER

  Chapter One

  New York, 1766

  The pops of gunfire all around Isabelle Stanhope sounded like she stood on a battlefield, instead of riding in a stagecoach. The few other passengers screamed, sliding down into their seats. Fear of the worst kind surged through Isabelle as she bent over and clutched her trembling legs.

  Her life may end today.

  “Everyone stay low,” the driver yelled. “Highwaymen are swarming around us.”

  His words caused panic to grow inside her. A gang of highwaymen had killed her father over a year ago and she feared the same fate would befall her.

  Another pistol fired, closer this time. Mrs. Winters, Isabelle’s companion, screamed then slumped against her. Tears filled Isabelle’s eyes and a sob rose to her throat. She didn’t dare look to see if her companion had been shot or if the frightened woman just swooned, since Mrs. Winters had been known to do that. Isabelle had never been able to handle the sight of blood, especially from someone she cared so deeply about.

  As the fast-moving stagecoach rocked to and fro, small satchels fell to the floor. The other passengers had been holding these at one time. Looking at them now, Isabelle didn’t know which one belonged to whom.

  One of the satchels was slightly opened, and the gleam of the golden handle dagger caught her attention. Without a second thought she snatched the weapon and held it close. She wouldn’t bat an eye if she had to kill a highwayman in order to save her own life.

  The stagecoach came to a jerking stop, and had her sliding to the floor. She landed on another passenger, and mumbled her apologies as she tried to climb back on the seat. Her gaze fell to Mrs. Winters, who was still unconscious and thankfully, didn’t have any blood on her—that Isabelle could see, anyway.

  The door flew open, and a masked man wearing a black cloak framed the door. “Everyone outside if you want to live.”

  Of course she wanted to live—the imbecile! She nodded, and waited for those in front of her to exit first.

  With a shaky hand, she hid the dagger inside her traveling jacket. She followed the woman in front of her, taking careful steps until Isabelle stood on solid ground. Armed highwaymen stood everywhere, each wearing a mask over their eyes, and a different type of fear sliced through her. Silently, she prayed for strength and courage.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the stagecoach. Where was Mrs. Winters? The still body of Isabelle’s companion made her stomach twist with sadness and she wondered if Mrs. Winters had indeed been shot. Then Isabelle looked to the driver and the guard. Both slumped over, blood spilled from each head as their bodies remained unmoving. Bile rose to her throat, and she placed a hand over her mouth and looked away.

  Someone standing next to her pushed her forward and she stumbled into
another highwayman. He grasped her shoulders to keep her from falling. As soon as she gained her bearing, she took one step back and looked at the large man. Shaky breath caught in her throat. Black silk cloth covered the top part of his face—save for the eyes—which served as a mask as it hid his true identity. Once-white linen stretched across wide shoulders and broad chest, opened at the throat to display sun-bronzed skin. Black jackboots and breeches molded his powerful legs. An ebony wool tricorn decorated with a feather as black as the silken mask topped his equally dark head. And he was muscular beyond belief! The man made her think of a pirate and not a highwayman.

  The highwayman who’d forced them out of the stagecoach stepped next to the man still holding onto her arms. “Captain Hawk, all the passengers are here, sir.”

  A gasp caught in her throat. Captain Hawk! Here stood the very person responsible for killing her father! Rumors about a retired pirate who’d turned highwayman had spread through England, especially after her father and his friends had died.

  Desperate to stay strong, she squared her shoulders and met his hooded gaze. The captain’s mouth dropped opened. His stare touched every part of her from the top of her bonnet down her body to her booted heels. Did he know she was Commodore Stanhope’s daughter?

  “Very well, Simon.” Although the captain spoke to his crewmember, Hawk’s eyes never left hers.

  Slowly, the leader of this ruthless gang of cutthroats grinned. “Who do we have here?” He swept his gaze over her once more in leisure.

  “I—I—I—” She couldn’t tell him her real name. He might remember her father, then she would end up with her sire’s doom.

  “Miss, will you please remove your bonnet?”

  “Sir, I don’t see why I need—”

  He stepped closer and yanked on the silken pink ribbons securing the bonnet to her head then pushed it off. She reached for it, but the bonnet fell by her feet as the wind blew unbound curls against her face. His eyes widened.

  Fear suffocated her. Why did he act in such a manner? Perhaps she would indeed have to defend herself against him.

  “What’s your name?” His voice boomed louder than before.

  She gulped, praying the Lord would forgive her for lying. “Miss Stan—ley. Belle Stanley.”

  Seconds ticked into incredibly long minutes of silence. Only the wind slapping through the trees and the softening cries of the stagecoach passengers blended together to disrupt the stillness.

  Finally, the captain’s jaw hardened. “Miss Stanley, what is your purpose for this trip?”

  She gnashed her teeth. Curse those stubborn highwaymen thinking they owned the world. “I—I’m on my way to New York to settle my father’s affairs.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “I’m from England. I arrived only just this morning.”

  “Why would any father send his daughter across the sea during turbulent times such as these?”

  “My father didn’t send me. He’s dead, if you must know.”

  “I see.”

  His gaze swept over her again as his finger smoothed across his thick, black mustache. “Tell me, Miss Stanley. How long ago did your father die?”

  She hesitated, knowing she couldn’t tell him the truth. “Just a few months past, sir.”

  “Indeed?” He folded his arms across his wide chest. “Has the length of time for mourning changed? The last I heard, a family member wore black for a year.” He motioned his hand in front of her. “Yet there isn’t a stitch of black on you. Can you tell me why that is?”

  She fought the urge to slap his arrogant face. He was correct, of course, and his sharp wit made her pause. Why couldn’t she think of an impressionable answer? It was as if a fog impeded thoughts in her mind.

  “I—I—”

  The wind lifted the midnight black hair resting on the back of his nape, and blew the edges of his shirt open. A square jaw and thick neck emphasized his masculine build. Indeed, men would fear the captain even without his mask, but Isabelle wouldn’t allow the horror stories to make her cower.

  Beside her someone nudged her arm. She glanced toward the person. Mrs. Winters, her companion, gave her a small nod. So relieved the older woman wasn’t dead, Isabelle wanted to throw her arms around her companion, but before she could, Mrs. Winters cleared her throat, stepped closer to the captain and aimed her gaze toward him.

  “Sir, you must forgive Miss Stanley for not being in proper mourning attire. There was hardly time, and certainly no funds. Her father didn’t leave a shilling for her in London, which is why she had to sail to New York where he resided. Once she receives money from his estate, she will purchase suitable black gowns, I assure you.”

  Tears of respite stung Isabelle’s eyes. She’d have to thank her companion later for coming to her aid and thinking up the lie so quickly.

  The tilt to Hawk’s head and his dark scowl showed his irritation as his gaze pinned the older woman. “Pardon me, Madame. Who are you?”

  “Mrs. Winters. I’m Miss Stanley’s companion.”

  “Ah yes, I see.” His face hardened. “If you will, Mrs. Winters, don’t speak until you are spoken to.”

  The older woman gasped. “Why I never—”

  “I’m quite certain you are correct, but then you have never known anyone like me.” He took several steps back to look over his prisoners. “And I hope all of you learn your place posthaste.” The volume rose in his voice. “Because you are all my prisoners, you will follow my rules or end up with the fate of your stagecoach driver and guard.”

  Isabelle let out a rushed breath. Why had she even dared hope the leader of this group of men would have any morals or show a shred of kindness?

  Amongst those standing with Isabelle as prisoners were a widow and two older gentlemen. The woman sobbed into her handkerchief, wrenching Isabelle’s heart. Her older companion, Mrs. Winters, clutched shaky hands against her bosom, her face deathly pale, mirroring Isabelle’s own fear. Highwaymen violated women and took much more than their dignity. She vowed she would not let Captain Hawk take hers.

  Hawk turned to one of his men who stood by the stagecoach. “Simon, escort the prisoners to the wagon so we can take them away.”

  “Aye, Captain.” The other masked man motioned his pistol in the air. His long, dirty blond hair waved in the wind. He smirked, displaying a full set of yellowish-brown teeth. Everyone fell into step and walked in the direction Simon indicated. As Isabelle shuffled a couple of feet, Hawk strode to her and grasped her elbow.

  “Miss Stanley, you won’t be going with them.” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “I have a more suitable place for you.”

  Panic gripped her throat and froze her limbs. She didn’t want to be torn from her companion.

  Mrs. Winters grabbed Isabelle’s other elbow. “Captain Hawk? I must protest.”

  One of his eyebrows arched. “I’m quite certain you must, but you’re wasting your breath. Miss Stanley will accompany me without your companionship. If you choose not to follow my instructions, you will be the first prisoner tortured.” He flashed an arrogant grin. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Mrs. Winters lifted her chin. “Remarkably so.”

  Simon pushed the older woman back into line. The woman’s wide-eyed gaze stayed on Isabelle as her companion’s face lost color the farther away she staggered. Tears filled Isabelle’s eyes. Nothing could change the situation. They had to obey the captain or suffer the consequences.

  After the group had shuffled toward the large wagon, she spun toward her captor and glared. “What do you want with me? I have done nothing to deserve this punishment.”

  Hawk grinned. “Punishment? Nay, fair maiden, I’m not punishing you at all. Women consider it a privilege to be in my favor. I have saved you from staying with the rats in a dark, nearly suffocating cellar with your friends.”

  She tilted her head. “You, sir, have saved me from nothing, for I will be with the biggest rat of them all.”

  Hawk gr
owled and grasped her shoulders. She stiffened, not daring to release the whimper bubbling up from her throat. Show no fear.

  “Miss Stanley, this is a warning. Speaking to me in such a tone will only provoke me. I’d hate to harm such a lovely woman, but I won’t tolerate such behavior from a prisoner. You should be grateful I saved you from venturing with the other prisoners. I cannot control my men when I have my back turned. I fear what they might do with you if they wanted a little diversion from today’s activities.”

  She seethed. He was correct. It was either Hawk or his men. “Where I was raised, I wasn’t used to holding my tongue, sir.”

  His grip relaxed. “You had best learn quickly then, Miss Stanley. I don’t want my men thinking I cannot handle such a feisty woman.”

  She nodded.

  He stepped back and smiled. His face not looking as hard as it’d been earlier. “I’d like you to dine with me tonight. I’ll feed you the finest food. You can stay in my room until that time, unless of course you would rather remain with the others in the filthy cellar. I assure you, it won’t be as pleasant.”

  As much as she preferred being with her friends, she might be able to defend herself better with him than his crew of scallywags. “I—I’m most appreciative of your offer, Captain, and I shall count myself privileged to dine with you.” The words were hard to say, and hopefully, Hawk wouldn’t know she had lied through her teeth.

  “Splendid.” He offered his arm like a gentleman.

  Suppressing the urge to sneer at the gesture, she slipped her hand around his elbow and allowed him to take her to his horse. He lifted her up before mounting behind. He tugged at a scarf wrapped around his arm until it fell loose.

  “Before we go, however, I must blindfold you. I cannot have you or the other prisoners seeing the way to our hideout.”

  She glanced at the others in the wagon. Hawk’s men were tying their hands behind their backs and blindfolding them as well. Isabelle was grateful the captain didn’t bind her hands.