Diamond in the Rogue

by Wendy Lacapra

  And if he bared his soul and she chose Cracked-skull… Well, what more could he do but return to New York as he originally planned?

  Which was, by far, the easier option, when he factored in all the looming specters…namely, facing her family’s disapproval and beginning the impossible task of setting the Grange to rights.

  He set his lips and focused on the stream of smoke rising from the chimney of the inn. The sound beneath him changed as shoed horses’ hooves hit the bridge’s wooden floor.

  Ka-thunk—Ka-thunk—times eight.

  Suddenly, the comforting sound disappeared, swallowed up by a roar to his right.

  Water.

  A wall of it.

  Heading in their direction.

  A cry ripped from his lungs as he urged the horses to full speed. The carriage squealed over the thunder of hooves. Forward, forward, forward…just a few more feet…

  Behind them, the river water sloshed, then the wood bridge let out a terrible moan.

  He tightened his thighs, leaned forward in the saddle, and bellowed, forcing himself—and the horses—through their fear. The clopping resumed even as the cracking continued. Rain blurred his eyes, but he kept onward—shocked a little more by each heady moment they were not overtaken by the deluge.

  His breath emptied. His voice went raw. His arms became boneless and fluid. No matter. He’d yell, he’d ride, he’d fight. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t have to.

  Love rarely did.

  Emotion breached his defenses, trickling into his sinews, filling him with strength. One last push and the hard land was beneath them. In another length, the danger was past.

  The scent of smoke sharpened, pungent. Then the courtyard came into focus. Lamps in the windows shone brightly, and several grooms emerged from the stables, shouting. He barely acknowledged them.

  Ignoring everything, he dismounted and raced back to the door, wet coat flapping, heart beating hard and high. As the dim interior of the carriage came into focus through the blur in his eyes, Julia raised her face, lids squeezed closed. Minutes had passed since he’d brought the carriage to a stop, but she hadn’t released the strap.

  Safe. Relief—and something more—flooded his senses, as strong and fierce as the furious river.

  “We made it,” he said through heavy breath.

  She opened one eye. “Did you see that wall of water?”

  See it? He’d have nightmares for weeks. “I promised to deliver you safely.”

  “And the bridge?” she asked.

  “Uncrossable, I wager.” If not fully gone. “I didn’t spare a glance back.”

  For good reason. Any hesitation could have cost them their lives. Fifteen seconds—maybe thirty—and they’d have been a part of the river, too.

  She slid to her knees and reached out, wiping mud splatter from his cheek. “You’re not hurt?”

  “No.”

  “And the horses?”

  “Excited, still. In good hands. They appear to recognize the grooms.”

  Without warning, she launched herself out of the carriage. Throwing her arms around his neck, she squeezed him hard. “It’s a miracle.”

  He turned his face into her hair and inhaled. “Not so much a miracle as a combination of hubris, stupidity, and luck.”

  She thumped his shoulder with a tiny closed fist. “Have you no sense of wonder?” She pulled away and grasped his cheeks tight between her spread fingers. “Have you no sense of appreciation?”

  Wonder. Was that the word for the wind that had caught in his heart?

  “With your permission, I say we turn in for the night.”

  A mad little laugh bubbled up in her throat. “Yes, yes, whatever you think is best.”

  He didn’t even have the strength to tease. He helped her down from the carriage and leaned heavily on her shoulder as they made their way inside.

  The real miracle was that he could walk.

  The real miracle was that he kept himself from clasping her to his chest and raining grateful kisses all over her hair and face and neck.

  A maid met them just inside the door and quickly directed them to a private parlor. She returned with two steaming cups just as they’d taken seats.

  “Looked like you both could do with something heated,” she said without quite meeting their gazes. “Mr. Todd is out inspecting the damage, but he’ll be back soon enough.” She glanced at the door and back to the couple. “If you’ll pardon the impertinence, you had best come up with a good story. Mr. Todd sees himself as keeper of the moral order. Can’t say he’ll take to your lady’s clothes.”

  The maid blushed, curtsied, and was gone.

  “I know, I know,” Julia sighed. “I’d forgotten about the breeches. Seems I can’t fool anyone who sees me in daylight. You were right. I make a terrible man.”

  “I think,” his voice croaked through his raw throat, “you could accomplish anything you had a mind to accomplish.”

  She paused, steaming mug partway to her lips. Through the curling haze, her dark eyes hit him like a blow.

  “Well,” she said breathlessly, “I’ve always wanted to make a lasting impression on you.”

  His heart contracted. “You needn’t prove anything to me.” He touched her cheek, warm and soft and slightly flushed. “And I’d say you made more than a lasting impression.”

  The door slammed open, and they jerked apart.

  “Who in heaven’s name do the two of you think you are?”

  Rayne stood. “Mr. Todd”—keeper of the moral order—“I presume?”

  The innkeeper glanced down to Rayne’s outstretched hand and back to his face. He did not reciprocate the gesture. “You could have lost those horses, young man. Never mind the carriage. And your lives. And for what reason? Some frivolous bet, I suppose, with your…”

  His voice faded as he took a good look at Julia for the first time.

  Julia slowly spread a napkin over her breeches and then folded her hands in her lap. Mr. Todd appeared too startled to speak.

  Rayne seized his chance. “The postilion fell ill, sir. My sister’s trunk came loose and broke to pieces a few miles back, which is why she is—”

  “Your sister.” He snorted. “This is a respectable establishment. Storm or no storm—you are going to have to move on.”

  Rayne retrieved a goodly sum from his pocket and passed his fingers over the wilted bank notes.

  Mr. Todd’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t take money from liars.”

  Rayne frowned. After everything they’d been through, only he could end up stranding them both at an establishment run by an honest Methodist innkeeper. While he scrambled internally for a way to change the innkeeper’s mind, Julia stole into the place beside him.

  She placed her small, hot hand on his arm. “It’s alright, darling.”

  Her soft voice sank into him like heated water through chipped ice.

  “We’ve trespassed on this good gentleman quite enough.”

  “We have?” he asked.

  She nodded solemnly before turning her baleful gaze to Mr. Todd. “You’re absolutely correct, Mr. Todd. We were reckless to have continued traveling on despite the storm. And we haven’t told the truth.”

  “And what, young lady, is the truth?”

  “We are eloping to Scotland under the most dire of circumstances.” She placed her hand over her stomach. “My family is in pursuit—which is why we took the risk.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “They’d rather a bastard, you see, than a child born of proper wedlock.” She hung her head. “We made a mistake. A mistake we wish to correct. We’ll continue on if we must, but we would rather wait out the storm. We’ll be off as soon as it is safe to travel, but for tonight, please give us shelter. We throw ourselves on your mercy. Please…for the sake of the babe, help us as we try to make
things right.”

  Even Rayne believed she was carrying his child, and he knew they’d never lain together.

  “Is that the truth?” Mr. Todd asked Rayne.

  “The truth is I would do anything for this woman.” He placed his hand on the small of her back. “And”—his voice cracked—“for our future family.”

  The man’s eyes dripped with distrust, but he hesitated. “Did he give you that bruise?”

  Julia gasped. “No! Of course not. That—that was Jack.”

  “Brother, I take it?”

  Julia dropped her gaze to the floor, contrite.

  Mr. Todd shook his head. “Very well…so long as you intend to make things right. But I won’t have you upstairs. You aren’t wedded yet.” He sighed deeply. “There’s a room we keep behind the kitchen for foaling. You can stay there for the night. But you, young man, will break bread with me, and, hopefully, I can impart a lesson or two while we dine.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Julia exclaimed.

  Rayne’s heart flipped as she turned her jubilant smile on him.

  He hadn’t lied. Even her lie held one, immutable truth: if she were with child, her family would not celebrate their union. Though, to his astonishment, in this moment, he truly wished she were expecting.

  He’d thought to move through his life alone, to preserve the world from any propagation of his line. But with Julia, a happy home seemed possible. Although he doubted happy and the Grange had ever been joined in the same thought before.

  And, of course, if she were with child, Bromton and Markham would have no choice but to accept their union.

  Chapter Nine

  Julia pressed her ear against the upper panel of the divided door that separated the foaling room from the kitchen and the wider dining room beyond. After she’d finished her meal, she’d been dismissed with instructions. Rayne, however, had been asked to remain. In the distance, the innkeeper’s low murmur ceased. Then, after a silent pause, Rayne answered, his words equally indecipherable.

  Poor Rayne. From the conversation’s tone, Rayne was receiving a lecture more lowering than any he’d likely endured since his school days. And for something he hadn’t done…yet.

  The yet startled her to standing.

  She weighed the word in her heart, finding its density served as premonition more than an urge for caution. Something had changed between them since this morning, and she did not believe either one of them could turn back. Though she didn’t dare dwell on possible outcomes.

  Yet…

  Julia turned around, surveyed the room, and set to work. She bunched up two piles of hay on opposite ends of the room. She cast a horse blanket over each pile, then stood back to admire her handiwork. Separate beds…just as Mr. Todd had demanded.

  The beds wouldn’t prove the most comfortable she’d ever experienced, but she and Rayne were in one piece, thanks to Rayne, and now they would be dry and warm, thanks to her.

  And if that didn’t prove they made a good team, she didn’t know what would.

  Yet…

  She considered the word again, dipping a metaphoric toe in the opaque waters of the future, feeling for the unclear challenges ahead, challenges she longed to face together.

  But was Rayne even capable of sharing his load?

  Other than Markham, Bromton, and Farring, she hadn’t vast experience with men. While Bromton and Farring had been steady friends and Markham’s jovial teasing hid a well of deep emotion, Rayne was a soupy cauldron of bubbling sentiments. She had no means to separate those sentiments into pieces so she could better understand.

  Rayne cared. He had to care. Why would his gaze hold such intensity if he didn’t care?

  She thought of that intensity, excluding the times he’d been angry or lustful. Instead, she pondered the awkward moments of quiet, when neither one of them knew quite what to say.

  Maybe he wasn’t so different from Markham after all. Maybe the truth of Rayne wasn’t obvious on the surface but hidden in his heart. Problem was, unlike Markham, she wasn’t sure even he knew his heart.

  And maybe that’s why she’d stepped up onto the back of that carriage—to see. To find out what he’d do, how far he’d go, when the moment demanded action. Now, she had her answer—he’d risk his life.

  He’d care for her in times of illness.

  He’d ride through storms and fog.

  He’d take up her cause, even when that meant suffering the humbling admonitions of a self-righteous innkeeper.

  And, though not as threatening as facing an imperiled bridge, that meant her task was to find a way through, to reach the man who may have made mistakes but also lived the values he’d yet to admit he possessed.

  She wiped off her hands as a light knock sounded on the door.

  “Are you decent, miss?”

  Julia opened the door to the maid who’d given them the helpful warning.

  The maid bobbed. “If you’d come with me, I’ll see you suitably dressed.”

  “You’ve already been too kind. I couldn’t possibly take your clothes.”

  “Oh, I’m not offering you my clothes.” The maid flashed a nervous smile. “I keep a basket of clothes visitors have left behind. You can have your pick if you’d like.”

  Julia glanced down at her dirty breeches, stiff with dried mud. “Thank you…”

  “Lily,” the maid supplied. “Like the flower.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lily. I’m…” She hesitated.

  “Eloping,” Lily said with a mischievous smile, “and so not about to give me your true name.”

  “Julia.” She was finished being anyone else but herself. “I’m Julia, and that is my real name.”

  “Well.” Lily held out her hand. “Come on then, Julia. I’ll take you upstairs.”

  Julia followed Lily to the kitchen, then up a winding back stair. They entered a kind of storage room with sheets and blankets and other odds and ends.

  “Here’s where I sleep.” Lily gestured toward a small cot in the corner. She removed the top of the basket and then flopped down on her cot. “Now, I’ll just sit for a spell while you have a look.”

  Julia fumbled through the mismatched pieces. She pulled out a shift from the bunch and held it up against her body.

  “That will do,” Lily said. “If you let me cut an inch or so off the bottom.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put you through any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” Lily removed her sewing basket from beneath the bed. “Toss it here, and I’ll fix it while you keep searching. I think there’s a bedgown somewhere in there.”

  Julia handed Lily the shift, and Lily set to work.

  “What do you think of this?” Julia asked, pulling out a red flannel nightshirt.

  “Your man’s arm wouldn’t fit into that.”

  “Not for him…for me. I’m the only one with…” Julia cleared her throat. “Clothing troubles.”

  Lily smirked. “Good thing he just happened to be carrying livery, then, no?”

  “Well”—Julia sent her a sideways glance—“I may have borrowed the livery in order to pose as his footman.”

  “You clever thing!” Lily giggled. “Can’t say I blame you, either. Quite lovely, he is. I wouldn’t mind a man as finely made.”

  “Handsome, yes.” Julia rolled her eyes. “And he knows, too.”

  “Well, he’s yours now.” Lily sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to have anyone look at me the way he looks at you.”

  Julia scrunched up the dress she was holding. “How exactly would you describe his look?”

  “Oh.” Lily pulled her thread through the shift. “Only like you were the most amazing thing he’s ever beheld. And maybe”—she glanced up—“like he’s counting the minutes until you’re alone again.” She lost her smile. “Though, I’ll offer a friendly w
arning—you two best not get up to anything while you’re here. I’ve seen Mr. Todd cast people out into the night for less.”

  “Well…” Julia raised her brows. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. We’re both exhausted.”

  Lily turned the shift over to the other side. “How’d you two meet…if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “He…he’s a friend of my sister’s husband.”

  “But didn’t you tell Mr. Todd your family disapproves?”

  “They do.” That part at least had been true. “I should have said he was a friend of my sister’s husband before he…”

  How could she describe what he’d done? Not just the forbidden kiss, but the way he’d thrust a knife into her sister’s heart by betraying Markham’s secret? “He behaved badly.” She chewed her lip. “Then again, I don’t think he was himself at the time.”

  “Ah.” Lily tied off her thread. “But you’ve forgiven him, and all is well?”

  Had she forgiven him?

  Odd thing was, she’d never blamed Rayne for being angry. Still, she shivered as she thought of the way Katherine had held her stomach and gazed in shocked horror at her brother after Rayne had described how Markham had wagered—and lost—Katherine’s hand in marriage.

  Me—you lost me to Bromton?

  Up until that moment, Julia and Katherine had both believed Bromton had come to Southford out of a sincere wish to court Katherine. Then again, Julia hadn’t quite trusted Bromton, and Katherine was far too clever to have been completely deceived. Anyway, Bromton’s explanation must have satisfied Katherine in the end, else they wouldn’t be wedded and—still—besotted.

  Then—and now—Julia sensed there was more to Rayne’s fury than she understood. Thinking back, Rayne’s hurtful actions had been aimed—indirectly—at Bromton. But why? Yes, Bromton had broken with Rayne’s sister. But even then Clarissa had been far from brokenhearted, and she was now happily wed.

  She considered the way Rayne and Bromton had interacted at Markham and Clarissa’s wedding breakfast. The two men—acquainted since childhood—had gazed warily at each other like brothers on either side of a court of law, both bewildered as to how they’d landed on opposite sides of a public spectacle yet having no idea how to bridge the deep divide.