Diamond in the Rogue

by Wendy Lacapra

  Yes—she nodded to herself—she was certain she had yet to learn the true source of the anger that had driven Rayne. Even if she found out, all Rayne had really done was tell the truth.

  She’d take painful honesty over deception and delusion any day. He could have been more tactful, of course. But she wasn’t exactly the soul of discretion, was she?

  She only wished he’d face the truth that lay between them with equal resolution.

  “Did he propose right after you met?” Lily asked.

  “No.” He hadn’t proposed at all. Again, the quiet, inner yet. “I confused him. I think.”

  “That’s men, now, isn’t it? They chase, and they chase, and they chase…but heaven forbid they actually catch.”

  Julia chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

  She found the bedgown at the bottom of the hamper—a simple brown linen garment made to wrap over a petticoat and be tied on the side. The only flaw she could see was a small burn on the arm.

  “Oh! You found it.”

  “But should I take it? What if the owner returns?”

  “She won’t. The dress belonged to Sally Wilkens—she was the village blacksmith before she married the local barrister.” Lily shrugged. “All fancy now, not that I blame her. Good choice for you, anyway—you’ll be able to adjust the size as you increase.”

  Increase?

  Ah yes. The nonexistent babe.

  So much for truth.

  “Oh, pardon, please,” Lily added quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you blush. Don’t go thinking I hold your mistake against you.” She smiled shyly. “If I had your man, I’d have done just about anything he asked, too. Glad he’s doing right by you, though.”

  Julia cocked her head. Would Rayne do right by her? If she were with child, would he change his plans? Would he marry her and take care of her and her child?

  He absolutely would.

  After everything he’d done for her since she’d fallen ill, she hadn’t a doubt.

  But will he change his plans for me?

  “Just think,” Lily sighed, “in no more than two days’ time you’ll be a missus. I’m absolutely green. And—ooh!” She clapped. “I have just the thing. I pushed it to the bottom, thinking I might keep it for myself. But you should have something special for your wedding night.”

  Lily plunged her arm into the basket. She dug around for a moment before lifting out a flash of white linen.

  “Why, it’s so pretty!” Julia exclaimed, examining the tiny green vines decorating the bodice. “I can’t imagine anyone leaving behind something so lovingly made.”

  Lily wrinkled her nose. “There’s a story there, I’m afraid. The young lady’s groom went to check the horses in the morning.” She lowered her voice. “He never returned.”

  Julia’s heart panged. “Oh, how sad.”

  “They were eloping. Just like you. You’d be surprised how often it happens.”

  Julia quirked a brow. “I thought Mr. Todd doesn’t permit couples of ill repute underneath his hallowed rafters.”

  “Well…” Lily glanced down at Julia’s muddied breeches. “Usually, the eloping couples are…”

  “More discreet?” Julia supplied.

  “If you’ll pardon, miss.”

  “I can’t take this.” Carefully, Julia folded the night rail, feeling for the unknown abandoned bride. “I’d think of the poor woman’s heartbreak every time.”

  “I know what you mean,” Lily agreed. “You’ve one of the good ones, though. He won’t abandon you.” Lily elbowed her. “You’ve all the luck, you have.”

  Did she have all the luck?

  If Rayne had truly meant what he’d said—that he’d do anything for her and their future family—she absolutely did.

  Love would not fail. She only hoped courage was equally resilient.

  “Now,” Lily said. “Let’s see what we can do about your hair.”

  …

  Following Mr. Todd’s thorough tongue-lashing, Rayne returned to find the foaling room empty. At first, his heart seized. Had Julia come to her senses and left him after all? Gone on, on her own, to her delightful Cracked-skull?

  His eyes adjusted to his lamp’s dim light. Two beds had been carefully laid. Two. Those three little letters delivered lighted-headed, intoxicating relief.

  He traversed the length of the room and back, then chose the colder bed, the one farthest from the kitchen wall. She’d shown few lasting ill effects from her chill, but, given the circumstances, keeping her warm as possible seemed wise.

  Wise.

  He snorted. Neither of them could be called wise, could they? He’d no choice but to admit he’d fallen in love with pestilence herself, and, though he’d shown her plenty enough to despise, she appeared to trust him completely.

  But she didn’t know the failure that left him most ashamed. She hadn’t seen inside of the Grange. She hadn’t any idea of the length of the manor’s shadows, and she could not comprehend the full extent of callousness and neglect embedded into his inherited legacy.

  He bunched his coat and tossed it over the top of the bed for a pillow.

  …Nor could she conceive of the things he wanted to do to her body. Tender feelings had taken root when she was ill, but a strong undercurrent of lust ran just beneath the surface—an undertow that threatened with a more-than-occasional tug inside the deepest part of his gut.

  Settling down on the hay, he studied the faint, orange fingers of light as they lapped against the ceiling, allowing his nagging lust to be subdued by his fatigue. In its absence, his mind webbed with hazy versions of the future.

  Could he salvage his birthright with her by his side? Could he manage to control the worst of his inclinations and bed her as a gentleman was supposed to bed his wife?

  And what if he could, but she was truly attached to the man she’d set out to meet? Just because Rayne had kissed her first didn’t give him any right to steal her away.

  On the other hand, he couldn’t help feeling the hand of fate guiding this journey.

  Fate had thrown them together, set them on a path to Periwinkle Gate—the only place where people still believed in his worth. Could that mean—though he’d failed in his duty and disappointed both himself and his friends—fate intended to give him faith in his potential? Show him his rough edges could still be cut away and his core polished?

  He could not formulate an answer. Not tonight.

  He’d no fight left.

  Between the prior night’s fitful slumber and the dizzying relief of actually making it across the bridge and the hellfire sermon he’d just endured, all he wished for was sleep.

  His lids fluttered closed.

  But he couldn’t sleep. Not while Julia was absent and he had no idea where she had gone…or when she would return.

  Then, as if by summons, she appeared in the doorway, carrying a bundle of clothing and wearing a red flannel sack of a nightshirt. A nightshirt that would have made the most celebrated of Venetian courtesans appear shapeless.

  “What the devil do you have on?”

  She set down the other clothes and spread her arms wide. “This, I’ll have you know, is a serviceable nightgown.”

  “Serviceable?” For whom?

  Her lips flattened. “At least it’s warmer than your nightshirt. Which, by the way, I release for your use.”

  He thought about changing. Then he remembered—his nightshirt smelled of her. And after the threats Mr. Todd delivered, the less temptation, the better. “Thank you, but no. I’ll remain as I am.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever suits you best.”

  She turned to close the door.

  “The top must stay open—Mr. Todd’s orders.” He altered his voice. “‘No lechery will be tolerated under my roof.’”

  “Lechery.” She left the top
panel angled, put down her lamp, and eased onto her pile of hay. “As if we weren’t too completely exhausted.”

  Fatigued, yes.

  On the other hand, were it not for that sack…

  Feeling the pull of that needy undercurrent, he halted the direction of his thoughts. If he kissed her again, it wouldn’t be until he was certain he could promise her his life…and was equally certain that it was him she truly wanted.

  She settled into her bed, fussing until the blankets covered her feet.

  “Heaven preserve us from improperly exposed toes,” he teased.

  She glanced up through her lashes, gaze admonishing. Then the humor faded from her expression. “There was another night rail, you know. A pretty one.”

  “And you preferred the sack?” Did she fear him that much?

  “No.” She hesitated. “But I couldn’t take the nightgown, because that one had been left behind by a woman who’d been abandoned by her groom…” Her voice trailed off into silence.

  Abandoned.

  Surely she did not believe he would leave her now? Or perhaps she hadn’t been thinking of him at all. Perhaps she was fearing Cracked-skull wouldn’t meet her as planned. If Cracked-skull abandoned Julia, Rayne vowed to pummel him.

  Thank him first, of course, and then pummel him.

  “Perhaps the maid made up the tale as a warning?” he suggested.

  “No.” She lay down and snuggled into her crooked arm, her eyes never leaving his face. “Lily says you’re a good one.”

  “She did?” And what do you say? “I wonder what she’d say about Edmun—”

  Julia interrupted. “I don’t want to talk about Lord Belhaven.”

  Well, that was definitive.

  She chewed her lip. “You are a good one, you know.”

  Her words washed over him in waves of warmth. “A good one,” he echoed. “Yes. Absolutely. A perfectly rational, good gentleman, who procured a barn for a lady’s sleeping comfort.”

  “Foaling room.”

  “There’s hay, a strong animal scent, and a dirt floor. Barn.”

  “Besides.” She ignored him. “I procured the foaling room. But I don’t want to argue.”

  “Well, there’s a first…”

  “I’m serious, Rayne. I’m trying to apologize…but you, as usual, are making things difficult.”

  As usual? “For what are you apologizing?”

  “For attaching myself to the back of your carriage.” Her eyelids fluttered downward. “For placing you in a terrible position. For everything, from the very first.” Her voice fell. “I should never have accosted you in the library.”

  The library? He took a moment to place the scene.

  Kiss me, Rayne.

  The memory became a phantom in the air as his mind recreated the moment. Markham and Farring had been playing billiards, and Bromton had just left. Rayne had been alone, stewing over Bromton’s betrayal—a friendship that had drastically altered for reasons he still did not understand. Then suddenly, Julia had appeared in her night rail, brown hair loose and cascading down her back.

  Breathe.

  At first, he’d resisted, even though every fiber of his being had wanted to comply with her request, to feel her open in his arms the way a flower opens to summer’s heat. Instead, he’d marched her up the stairs toward her room. But by the time they’d reached the landing, his want and anger and resentment had shown him the horrible, beautiful symmetry—Bromton had hurt his sister Clarissa, and Julia, as Bromton’s sister-to-be, had just presented the perfect opportunity for him to return the favor.

  Breathe.

  That kiss had ruined him.

  Breathe.

  That kiss had transformed him.

  Breathe.

  And if she’d never made that demand, never placed him in a terrible position, never hopped onto the back of his carriage…

  He’d still be that bundle of stewing resentment and not…

  Well, a man teetering on the edge of hope.

  “I…” Her voice wobbled. “I—I didn’t think. I just acted.”

  “Julia—”

  “Don’t go telling me again that you should have known better. Do you think I didn’t see you? Do you think I didn’t know exactly how bitter and hostile you were?”

  “Did you?” he asked quietly.

  “Of course I did.” She brushed her cheeks. “Have you ever been so overcome, you couldn’t distinguish between fear and excitement?”

  He swallowed. “Yes.”

  “I wanted to show you how wrong you were. And instead…” Her voice trailed. “You didn’t have to leave.”

  Bromton’s voice rang in his ear.

  Go back to The Pillar of Salt, pack your bags, and go home.

  Home to my devastated sister?

  Go to London, Bromton had growled. Go to Moscow. Go as far as the Gobi Desert, for all I care. Just stay away from Lady Julia. I will not ask you again.

  “Yes, I did,” he sighed. “I had to leave.”

  “To rescue my reputation.”

  “Julia, I had no honorable intentions.” At least he hadn’t had any then.

  Those intentions came later…after she’d said she loved him. Even now, he wanted to preserve that moment…and preserve her from him.

  “Perhaps not,” she said. “But you acted honorably just the same. That night—I would have done anything you asked.”

  “I know.” His ribs felt as if they had closed round his heart like a spring trap. “I let Bromton know, too.”

  “Did you intend to ruin me?”

  “In the state I was in,” he sighed roughly, “I could have justified any evil.”

  “You didn’t, though, did you? Your better side won.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting the rest?”

  He hadn’t forgotten wielding Bromton’s secret with the intent to wound. He hadn’t forgotten the heat beneath his collar. He hadn’t forgotten Julia’s pleading expression or Farring’s gaping shock.

  Carnage.

  And then, a single, devastating glimmer of light that had changed everything.

  “It was,” Julia breathed, “too awful.”

  Yes, and— “Who is to say I won’t unleash the same havoc again?”

  “Would you?” she asked.

  He could never be sure, could he?

  “Sleep, minx.” He rolled over. “We’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  The shadows grew as she turned down her lamp wick. The straw whispered as she settled.

  “You wouldn’t,” she said softly.

  “How do you know?” he asked the darkness.

  “Trust me,” Julia replied.

  …

  Julia waited as long as she could for Rayne to answer before drifting into a restless slumber.

  Then, she dreamed.

  She was there, at the edge of Southford’s ha-ha, arms full of chin-tickling petals. To the right was Rector Chandler’s steeple. To her back lay the home farm. And in front—not too far off—was the manor house.

  If she squinted and tilted her head just so, she could make out her father’s shape in his study window. Surely her father would see her flowers and smile. He would set them in water, and then he’d let her crawl into his lap like he used to, long ago.

  And he wouldn’t smell like gin. Not yet—not in the morning.

  But she’d better hurry, just to be sure. As she moved to take a step, the sky turned gray. Thunder rumbled as if there’d been a landslide in heaven.

  She had to go. She had to get back.

  She willed her legs to move, but they were rooted to the earth as if she were one of the towering beech trees along the drive. Frantic, she yanked her leaden knee. Daisies scattered in every direction. Still, her legs refused to budge.

>   All the while, the wind cackled like a witch in her ears.

  She had to get back, to warn her father about the storm. To save him…

  If only her legs would lift.

  But they wouldn’t.

  And now, the air had grown arms, squeezing arms.

  She’d be crushed if she couldn’t get free.

  “Julia! Wake up! Stop thrashing!”

  Rayne?

  “Fuck.”

  Definitely Rayne.

  Her eyes flew open. Around her, everything was sheathed in darkness. She pulled a ragged breath through her throat, inhaling the sweet, prickly scent of hay.

  Rayne.

  She stilled, breath heavy, and turned her face into his arm.

  Just a dream.

  Lud, she hated this part. The waking. The shame.

  And this time was worse than any other, because she hadn’t opened her eyes to Katherine, Markham, or Horatia. She’d opened them to Rayne.

  “Dream,” she repeated aloud, as if he needed confirmation.

  “Are you awake?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “Do you want me to get a light?”

  “Yes.” She pressed her hands to her heated cheeks and moved out of his embrace so he could stand. “Thank you.”

  As he went into the kitchen, she ran her hand through her hair, finger-combing out more than a few dried stalks. So much for the bed she’d so carefully constructed. Nothing remained beneath her but dirt.

  Rayne returned with a lamp.

  “Oh, heavens,” she cried. “It’s everywhere.”

  “Don’t worry about the hay.” He lifted her to her feet. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I am sorry if I worried you.”

  “My fault, I suppose.” He winced. “That ride across the bridge—”

  “I wasn’t dreaming about the bridge.”

  “What were you dreaming about?”

  She couldn’t tell him, not without revealing her deepest fears.

  “Daisies.”

  He frowned.

  She took a deep breath. “I should clean up.”