What A Rogue Wants

by Julie Johnstone

  Red covered Grey’s vision. He kicked the chair blocking his path out of the way. The wood splintered as it hit the table with the force of his anger. He was beside Lady Madelaine in four long strides. Her eyes smoldered, but her body shook. Grey pushed her gently behind him and faced Thorton.

  Thorton jerked the dagger out of the wood and material of his trousers. The material ripped as the dagger let loose. “You saw it, Adlard. The bloody bitch tried to stab me. You’re my witness.”

  “I did not try to stab you,” Lady Madelaine spat. “I gave you a reprieve with my generous warning. If I intended to stab you, believe me, the dagger would have pierced flesh.”

  Grey snatched the dagger from Thorton while studying Lady Madelaine’s grim face. Her words as well as her aim impressed him. “I saw you try to accost her.”

  “The hell you say. She wants me.”

  Grey glanced back at Lady Madelaine. “Do you want this man?”

  She shook her head. “Unless you count wanting him dead.”

  He smothered his laugh as he turned back to Thorton. “It’s too bad she decided to be generous, Thorton. In my opinion, you deserved a dagger in your leg, at the least.” Grey wanted to kill the man for trying to force himself on her. Grey curled his fingers into fists. “If you ever touch her again, I’ll not be near as generous as the lady. But take heart, I know just where to strike with a dagger to make your death quick.” He touched the pulsing vein on Thorton’s neck. “My father considered teaching his sons all means of self-defense of the utmost importance.”

  Thorton shoved Grey’s hand away. “I won’t forget this,” the man snarled.

  “Neither will I,” Grey promised.

  Thorton opened his mouth as if to say something else, and Grey raised the dagger challengingly. “Shall we test my lessons?”

  Thorton spat on the floor and slammed out of the room. Grey gripped the dagger, trying to calm himself and slow the blood roaring in his ears and his painful heartbeat.

  Lady Madelaine rested a hand on his arm. “You can release my dagger now, Lord Grey. He’s gone.”

  Grey relaxed his hold and handed the dagger over. A witty reply laced with sexual innuendo was on the tip of his tongue, but when he looked into her warm, anxious eyes his witty reply was gone. “Were you afraid?”

  “Yes. Were you?”

  The honest admission and question surprised him. Honesty at Court was so novel. “I wasn’t afraid for myself.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes.” With a start he realized he was telling the truth not merely trying to seduce her. “What if I hadn’t been in the dining hall? What if Thorton had ravished you? I’d hate to think anyone had you against your will.”

  Her cheeks redden. “I do try to avoid him.”

  “You need to tell the queen.”

  She shook her head.

  Damnation. He understood. The queen disliked her. She could very well use the information against Lady Madelaine. And the other ladies-in-waiting definitely would. “Do you have a brother?”

  “No.” She seemed amused by his questions. He ran a hand through his hair, wild thoughts careening in his head.

  “What of your father?”

  “I cannot disappoint him.” Grey nodded in understanding. She wouldn’t be the first lady abandoned at Court with the silent or sometimes explicit orders to not fail in finding a husband. “You need a protector.”

  “Lord Grey, are you offering to protect me?” A look of disbelief crossed her delicate features.

  “Certainly not.” He couldn’t seduce her if he vowed to protect her. But he couldn’t very well leave her to the likes of Thorton. He scratched at his head, trying to bring some semblance to his thoughts, but it was a lost cause. “I must admit I was surprised and gladdened to find you at Court.”

  “Were you?”

  The way her blush deepened like a cherry ready to be picked made him hard as stone. So deceptively innocent yet complex. He loved the puzzle she presented. “I was.” He moved closer and brushed a hand across her collarbone. She jerked in response. For a seductress, that was an odd response. Maybe this was the game she played? “You made an appearance in my dreams more nights than I should admit.”

  Her lips parted as if his statement surprised her. Her acting abilities were superb. He ran a finger up her arm, gliding over fine silk and a gentle curve of muscle she must have developed from the sports she spoke of loving. His blood pounded thickly in his ears. “That was very naughty of you not to return to meet me in Golden Square as you promised, but I’ll forgive you since I realize you must have slipped away without asking. Is that true?”

  She nodded, her pulse hammering at the base of her neck. Good. She was just as excited as he was.

  “Will you keep my secret?” Her tongue wet her upper then lower lip causing him to harden further. This state had to be dangerous to his health. He needed release. Where could they possibly meet. Perhaps the stables? He could pay off the stable boys to disappear for a while. They would simply have to think of an excuse for her to slip away.

  “I’ll keep your secret, for a price.” He pressed closer and reached to grasp her, but she skittered away and went around to the other side of the table. Her hands splayed against the dark grain as she stared at him.

  “How disappointing, Lord Grey. For a moment, I thought you to be different from all the tedious men I’ve met at Court, but I see you are exactly the same.”

  “Bite your tongue. I’m the same as no man. Meet me in the stable and I’ll prove it.”

  Her eyebrows knitted together. “I’m afraid you have the wrong impression of me.”

  “You don’t like the stables?” Blazes, he was having more fun bantering with her than he’d ever had talking to any woman. “I assumed since you loved sports you wouldn’t mind a tumble in the hay.”

  “You assume wrong on many counts, Lord Grey.”

  Her words held an iciness that doused a chill over his desire. There was a critical piece to her puzzle he was missing. “I beg your pardon, Lady Madelaine, if I was crass. I was simply bantering with you.”

  Her eyebrows arched high. “So you didn’t just invite me to a tumble in the hay?”

  “Oh, I did. Rather poorly done of me. I assumed a lady such as yourself who loved sports and adventure would like the idea of a tumble in the stables. But I understand now. You prefer a bed over the stables. I can accommodate you, but you’ll have to give me time to figure out where we can meet privately and how to get you there.”

  She slapped her palms against the wood, her frown turning beautifully thunderous. “Lord Grey, you’ve misunderstood every word I’ve said. I don’t wish to be pursued or tumbled.”

  “You don’t? But at Golden Square―”

  She held up a palm. “You were correct in assuming I slipped away without permission. Which I had never done before that day. I knew I was to be deposited at Court the next day. A situation that didn’t please me. I wanted one last adventure to see things I’d never seen. The adventure never included bed sport.”

  “That’s not much of an adventure.”

  “I seek a husband, Lord Grey. The adventure of marriage will be quite enough for me.” Her blush burned bright on her face.

  Blazes. He’d misjudged her character by leaps and bounds. It was strange he didn’t feel as surly as he should about his mistake, considering his state of arousal. Rather, he was glad to have finally met a woman who was a true surprise in a good way. Under the circumstances, his honor now demanded he offer his services as protector, even if his loins wanted otherwise. “I suppose, given this enlightening conversation, I’ve no choice but to protect you from Thorton.”

  Lady Madelaine walked to the side table and picked up a roll. “And here I was certain the tales about you were true.” She took a bite of the roll and chewed but the corners of her mouth tugged upward into a smile.

  “What tales?” He came to stand beside her and get a hunk of bread for himself.

  “
Well.” She swallowed. “The other ladies-in-waiting likened you to Casanova, but if this is you at your most charming, I’m afraid you fall short.” She grinned.

  “I’m glad I can amuse you. But I vow I can be extremely charming.”

  “In that case, I’m happy you understand turning your immense charms on me is pointless for what you are after.”

  “Come.” He offered his elbow. “In case Thorton is lurking, let me walk you where you are going.” He had enough time to do that and still get to the king’s chambers at the appointed hour. She slipped her arm through his and a jolt of awareness shot through him. He’d held many women before, during and after the heat of passion, but none had ever made his body hum with a simple chaste touch. It occurred to him as they walked, and her warmth heated his side and her floral scent filled his nostrils, he had not promised to protect her from himself, only Thorton. A small tug of conscience reared its annoying head to pose the question of which was worse―a wolf in sheep’s clothing or simply a wolf.

  “I’m no wolf.”

  She stopped and glanced at him. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’m no wolf. I’m not at all like Thorton.”

  “Lord Grey, no one has accused you of that.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.” By God, he was rambling. He’d never rambled because of a woman in his life. It was almost a relief when Lady Madelaine disappeared with a quick goodbye into the queen’s chambers. Now if only his conscience regarding the lady would disappear.

  Grey pushed thoughts of Madelaine aside as he entered the king’s audience chamber. Yesterday there had been two guards who had asked him to identify himself, but today the guards were not at their post. That was odd. Across the room, beyond the formidable, oak door that led to the king’s bedroom, angry voices erupted, followed by a strange clattering sound.

  Temptation had always been a problem for Grey. Women tempted him. Danger tempted him, and now his curiosity tempted him. He needed to see what was happening. No doubt that would lead to danger, which would lead to a problem. But the thrill of excitement was too great to ignore.

  With a quick glance around the candlelit chamber to ensure he was alone, he moved to the midway point between the outer door and the bedchamber. He half expected a guard to burst out from the king’s chambers and yell “got you” just as Edward used to do when tormenting him by forcing him to play endless games of hide-and-seek.

  He smiled at the memory. Thanks to Edward’s excellent instruction on how to move through the shadows, Grey had never been caught during any of his more wicked adventures. From behind the door, shouting commenced again followed by a single, harsh command that rang with the king’s noble tones. The room fell so silent that each breath Grey took hissed in his ears.

  “Cease bickering,” a voice commanded, as only the king could. “You there.” A fervent murmuring of voices rose to fill the silence. “Bring me my favorite blanket. No need to freeze to death while I endure Sir Walter’s cures.”

  As the oak door creaked open, Grey slipped behind the dark folds of the floor-length curtains. He should let his presence be known, but then he wouldn’t have any idea what was happening. The other thing Edward had taught Grey was to know everything about any situation you are entering. The next time he saw his older brother he would have to thank him for all the advice. A pinch-faced page rushed into the room, grabbed a plush, burgundy blanket off the settee and flew back through the oak door.

  Grey smiled at the cracked door. It was perfect. If he moved closer and was careful, he could see into the room without being seen. He slipped down the length of the wall until he was by the door, and then he positioned himself where he could see through the crack.

  At the main entrance to the inner sanctuary, candles blazed and illuminated the pinched face of the page huddled near the wall. The sapling’s eyes grew wide and Grey followed the man’s gaze.

  The scene froze his blood. His breath caught, and then released on a rush of disbelief. Cursing his mistake, he checked the faces, but none appeared to have heard his noisy exhalation.

  The king reclined on his bed against a mound of pillows. Grey hadn’t seen the king in two years, but he did not look like himself. And age wasn’t to blame. His hair was cropped short, his face pale and the bones there too sharp and protruding as if a great amount of flesh had recently been lost.

  Grey glanced further down the king’s body and a wave of nausea washed over him. Notched bowls surrounded His Majesty’s naked upper torso to catch the lines of crimson that trickled down his thin arms. The king jerked when the white-haired man standing over him pressed something silver to His Majesty’s arm. One of the wooden bowls tipped and a crimson stain seeped across the ivory sheet.

  The page sprang forward from the wall, but stopped as the king’s eyes opened and pinned him. “Leave it. You can clean me up like a shiny coin when Sir Walter is finished.”

  “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

  The king’s answer was a ragged breath that filled Grey’s ears. The man beside the king had paused, his hand suspended in the air, and with his wild white hair and menacing tool he looked like a mad man. Yet the king must trust him. “Proceed, Sir Walter,” His Majesty commanded.

  The man bent over the king for some time and when he rose, beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. Bile filled Grey’s mouth. Puckered skin littered His Majesty’s arms and pulsed blood from the dozens of small punctures wounds. Grey had seen enough. He moved away from the door, along the wall and back to the audience chamber where he sat to wait for the king to admit him.

  This time, Grey would wait without complaint. Any man who endured a bloodletting such as the king just had without so much as a whimper deserved more than the respect demanded by his title. The king had just won Grey’s respect as a man.

  Not more than an hour later, the oak door to the bedchamber flung wide open and Sir Walter shuffled out followed by the page, Peter, and the two stony-faced guards Grey had met the day before. The tallest of the two guards stopped in front of Grey as everyone else quietly left the room. “His Majesty says you may enter now.”

  Grey narrowed his eyes at the unexpected words. He hadn’t been announced. Had the king finally remembered him or had someone seen him lurking at the door? He didn’t think it was the latter, but he’d soon find out. He rose and followed the guard into the king’s bedchambers, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the fetid stench of oozing wounds. He forced deep breaths to accustom himself to the acrid smell of blood lingering all around him.

  By the time he stood in front of the king, Grey had himself under control. He dropped to his knee by the king’s feet and bowed. “Your Majesty.”

  “Rise, Lord Grey.”

  Grey stood and had to look down to meet the king’s gaze. His Majesty sat in a high-backed wooden chair clothed in robes of dark green, which enhanced the thinness and paleness of his face. His faded, yellowed eyes locked on Grey. “On second thought, sit here.” He waved a hand toward another high-backed chair that faced him. “I don’t like to look up to anyone.” A slight smile spread across the king’s gaunt face, and Grey could almost recall the vibrant man who he had last seen two years ago when the king had stopped to lodge at their house on the way back to Windsor.

  Grey settled into the uncomfortable chair. “You bid me to see you before I started my duties as equerry, Your Majesty.”

  “I did. And I’m pleased to know you do not disappoint. You arrived precisely when I told you to, sat all day yesterday and waited patiently today while I was preoccupied. And you did not even blink to see me in such a state.”

  “You saw me at the door?”

  “Only because I was watching for you. If you are to work for me you must thrive on danger. You proved you do by approaching my door uninvited.”

  Grey stared at the king, trying to work through his maze of words. Work for His Majesty? He supposed even though he would be directly reporting to Lord Pearson every British subject technically worked for the
king. Yet still… “As your subject, of course.”

  “No, Grey.”

  Grey narrowed his eyes at the king’s unexpected familiarity. What was going on? He felt as he often did when stumbling upon Edward and Father in conversation―lost as to the true nature of the talk. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Yes. I know. Forgive me. Let us start from the beginning. Pearson does not need an equerry.”

  There it was again―the king had slipped into familiarity. Unpardonable to question or comment though. “He doesn’t?” Grey asked, settling on the matter which he could address.

  “No. He doesn’t. Pearson, your father, your brother and the others need another man to join their ranks. As do I. Pearson was a ruse I required as the offer can come from no one but me.” The king leaned over and picked up a small, rectangular, gilded box off the table. On the lid a silver circle had been engraved. “Do you know what’s in this box, Grey?”

  Was this a trick question? Was he supposed to know? Hell, all of a sudden he wished he’d spent more time listening to all the boring tutors his father had hired to teach him and less time dreaming of his next scheme to win his father’s attention. It hadn’t worked, anyway. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I don’t.”

  “Your future, if you so choose, is in this box. Never let it be said you had no choice. You do. This moment is your choice. Your father and your brother recommend you to me, and they both say you are more than ready. I’m told you’re already trained in many of the things you’ll need to know.”

  Grey didn’t know what the hell the king was talking about. He hadn’t put any stock in the whispers that the king had certain spells, but maybe the whispers were correct. But remaining silent was the wisest option.

  With bony fingers, the king released the latch that secured the lid of the box. The lid opened with a creak. He withdrew a silver ring and handed it to Grey. Grey rubbed his finger over the smooth surface of the silver. Six small, red stones, only noticeable when the ring was held up close, were set evenly around the ring. “My father has a ring that has six stones in it,” Grey said. He’d always wondered what the six stones had stood for, and his father’s flimsy explanation had never seemed believable to him. His pulse picked up in pace once again.