What A Rogue Wants

by Julie Johnstone

  His sister was partially right, he had convinced himself he didn’t need love, but finding out the real reason his father and Edward had always seemed to exclude him and not want him around had released some unknown constraint within him. He’d felt it these last few days. A lessening of whatever invisible force had driven him from one scandalous pursuit to the next. Knowing Madelaine and chancing his heart was something he desperately wanted.

  What he wasn’t entirely certain of was whether she’d welcome his pursuit after he told her that her father had denied his courtship. And a deuced irritating voice kept whispering that he might be selfish in pursuing her. She’d have to go against her father’s wishes, and didn’t she deserve more than a husband who would lie to her? Still, he wasn’t selfless enough to let her simply fade out of his life. There was something special about her, some kindred longing in her eyes that moved him.

  The door creaked open, and as if summoned by his thoughts of her, Madelaine drifted into the room, her lilac skirts swishing around her ankles. She had a mound of cloths under one elbow and a pitcher of water in her hand. As she moved further into the room, her eyes lit up and a relieved smile came to her face. “You’re here!”

  Without a word, he stood and went to her. Taking the pitcher of water he set it on the washstand, then moved close to her so their talking would not disturb Liz. “Did you doubt I’d come? Liz is my sister.”

  “Well, no.” Madelaine bit her lip. “But after the doctor said it may be consumption and the queen had Elizabeth moved to these quarters, some of the other ladies-in-waiting said how awful it would be to die as Elizabeth was going to―all alone with no one but the physician to keep her company.”

  He clenched his jaw, a string of blistering words on the tip of his tongue. He settled on a rather mild statement in case Liz could somehow hear him. “Those women are vain nitwits who know nothing of me and the love I hold for my sister. Death does not scare me, Madelaine, if it means my presence comforts Liz.”

  “Me, either.”

  The pull of a real smile tugged at his lips. “I was afraid you might say that.”

  Madelaine’s eyes grew big. “Well, then. I suspect you now see the real, stubborn me. If you’d like to change your mind about courting me, I understand.”

  “On the contrary. The real you I’m glimpsing makes me want you even more.”

  A smile played at her lips, though the dark smudges under her eyes and the wisps of disheveled hair framing her face so beautifully reminded him of the gravity of his sister’s situation.

  Needing for one second to feel the comfort touching Madelaine would offer, he pulled her to him and brushed a quick, light kiss across her warm lips. The contact moved like lightning through his veins. The last thing he wanted to do was release her, especially when a low moan escaped her. But he did before anyone had the chance to pass by the open door, and she was compromised. He may well indeed end up marrying her, but he’d not have her name besmirched to see the deed accomplished.

  Madelaine’s sleep had been far from restful this past week. Worry over Elizabeth’s worsening condition awoke her as it had all week like clockwork. She dressed and trudged groggily down the five corridors and two flights of stairs toward the isolated hall where Elizabeth had been moved. If Grey was in the room, she wouldn’t go in, just as she hadn’t the last three nights.

  She had to limit the time she was alone with him. It wasn’t proper. Not to mention Grey had told her Father had denied his courtship. Until she could speak with her father and ascertain what his objection was and perhaps persuade him differently, she didn’t want to go against his wishes. She’d hurt her mother by being so stubborn, and it was too late to make amends, but she was determined never to hurt her father. She would be a model daughter, even if it killed her. What if Grey finds someone else? Madelaine clenched her teeth. She hated the voice of doubt inside her head.

  She pushed the thought away. There was no sense worrying over something she felt confident could be changed. Likely, someone had whispered in her father’s ear of Grey’s reputation as a rake. She’d simply explain to Father that he was wrong and tell him how Grey was with his sister. Father would have to change his mind. He’d always been a very reasonable man. Well, except for when he’d insisted she had to find a husband at Court. Still, a part of her understood he was only trying to secure the best future for her.

  Coming close to Elizabeth’s door, Madelaine took extra care not to make a sound. She just wanted to reassure herself that Elizabeth was still alive. She prayed Helen was there and not Grey. Every time she saw him, she had to fight the compulsion to talk to him, and after the dream she’d just had about him, her need to be close to him was like a consuming hunger.

  She cracked open Elizabeth’s door. Her pulse skittered at the sight of Grey by his sister’s side, his head bent and his hands clasped together in front of him. His deep murmur floated to Madelaine, and her mouth dropped open. Grey was a praying man? She listened closer, her eyes bugging. Not only was Grey praying, he was begging God to spare his sister’s life and take him instead. No, no, no, foolish man! Tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t live without him. She quickly said a prayer for Elizabeth’s recovery and Grey’s continuing health.

  She pulled the door quietly closed and sagged against the wall. She was a fool to think she’d put up some barrier between herself and Grey. Seeing him now begging for his sister’s life was like a bucket of cold water thrown on her head. There were not enough barriers in the world to guard her heart from Grey.

  The way he’d helped care for his sister had shown him to be loving and honorable and everything she had ever dreamed of in a man. When had she started to lose her heart to him? She laughed at that. Most likely the moment she’d met him in Golden Square.

  She moaned and pressed her hand over her mouth to hush herself. Even if she’d been sensible enough not to melt like a schoolgirl at his touch, no warm-blooded woman could keep herself fortified against a man who brushed his sister’s hair, patiently gave her sips of water and broth, and threatened bodily harm to the physician that had come to bleed Elizabeth.

  Madelaine’s heart pounded in her ears. The wisest thing she could do was avoid him completely until she could speak with her father. That way she would ensure not losing her senses. Pressing away from the wall, she straightened and made her way back to her room. She couldn’t wait a whole month to speak with Grey again. It was more than she could stand.

  But what could she do? As she undressed, she considered her prospects. There was only one thing to bring her father back sooner. She sat down and dipped her quill in ink. How should she word her letter to Father? If she was careful with her words, she’d not be lying and Father would come quickly. Smiling at her cleverness, she wrote one line. Come with haste. Something dreadful has happened.

  That should do it, and she’d not lied. Elizabeth’s sickness was dreadful. Hopefully, by the time Father got here, Elizabeth would be well, and Madelaine, Elizabeth and Helen could explain to her father how Grey was truly an honorable man. Then Grey could court her, and she could fall guiltlessly in love.

  AVOIDING GREY WAS MUCH HARDER than Madelaine imagined. She was partly thrilled and dismayed that he went to such efforts to see her. Wherever she seemed to go, she would catch glimpses of him, but she managed to keep her distance. The hardest times were when she was in Elizabeth’s room, and he would come to care for his sister. Madelaine always fled, offering some stuttering, flimsy excuse. Yesterday’s had been especially bad. Grey had raised one eyebrow, and she’d known he didn’t believe her. She’d entertained the idea of telling him the truth. Yet the thought of sitting before him and explaining that she was staying away because when she was near him she didn’t trust herself not to go against her father’s wishes, made her stomach pitch precariously.

  With that in mind, she rose early. She had to visit Elizabeth before Grey even considered coming. If he kept to the same routine of the last two weeks, he would tend to his e
querry duties first and then come to his sister’s room around noon. When Madelaine finished translating a letter for the queen, she begged to be excused to go check on Elizabeth. The queen was surprisingly kind and gracious. No doubt the kindness had everything to do with her good feelings toward Elizabeth and Grey and nothing to do with Madelaine personally, but whatever the reason, she welcomed the reprieve from the scolding and glares.

  When she reached Elizabeth’s apartment around ten, she took several deep breaths before entering. All her composure left her and she squealed as she ran into the room.

  “You’re awake!”

  Elizabeth was propped against a mound of pillows. Her cheeks looked rosy, but with the light glow of health and not the burn of fever. Her blue eyes sparkled without the glassiness that had worried Madelaine so this past week. Dark smudges still lay under her eyes, and her face had a new hollowness around the cheekbones, but she looked vastly improved. “You look wonderful!”

  Elizabeth smiled wanly. “Liar.”

  “Oh, no.” Madelaine shook her head as she and Helen exchanged smiles of greeting. “I stammer when I lie, so rest assured I’m telling the truth.”

  “Come.” Elizabeth chuckled and patted the bed. “Sit by me and tell me of you and Grey. I’m not sure how much longer I can stay awake.”

  Madelaine pulled up the chair, but the last thing she wanted to do was talk about her and Grey. “Does your brother know you’re better?”

  “He knows,” Helen answered, coming to sit by Elizabeth on the bed. “He was here last night when her fever broke, and he was here this morning when the doctor saw her. I’ve never seen a man as close to crying with relief as Grey was.”

  “Aunt,” Elizabeth scolded. “Grey wouldn’t like you saying such things.”

  “Pish-posh. As if I give a fig what Grey or any man likes. Except the king.” She winked. “The freedom to be outrageously blunt comes with having buried my husband.” She smiled wickedly. “And being wealthier than most helps.”

  Elizabeth shook her head then glanced at Madelaine. “Ignore her.”

  Secretly, Madelaine hoped she would someday be as confident as Helen was. “What did the doctor say?”

  “That I’ve made a miraculous recovery.” Elizabeth promptly yawned.

  “And that she doesn’t need to tire herself,” Helen added. “She’s to rest, which is precisely what I’ve been trying to get her to do.”

  “I don’t want to rest,” Elizabeth protested, but she yawned again.

  “If you don’t rest you won’t get better and then who will be on my side against Grace?”

  “Has she been awful? Tell me what she’s done.”

  “I will, but only if you lay down and close your eyes.”

  “This is splendid,” Elizabeth said. “It’s like being put to sleep with my own special fairy tale. My nanny used to tell the best stories.”

  “Sit up,” Madelaine commanded. She quickly rearranged Elizabeth’s pillows and then gently helped her to lie down. “Now close your eyes and listen.”

  She spent the next hour regaling Elizabeth with tales of Grace’s wicked ways. When she was finished, Helen sang Elizabeth a song, until her eyes drifted shut, her breathing became even and her chest rose and fell with deep sleep.

  Helen clucked her tongue as she looked at the clock. “I’ve got to go,” she said in a whisper. “But Grey will be here soon.”

  “I need to go too.” Madelaine pushed back her chair to stand.

  “Madelaine, are you still angry with Grey because of the night he didn’t show up to my apartments?” Her voice had risen. Madelaine darted a glance at Elizabeth. Still sleeping. Good. Helen took Madelaine by the elbow and led her closer to the door. “If you’re still angry, I think it’s quite unforgiving, given what you’ve seen of his character these past two weeks.”

  “I’m not still angry.” Madelaine flushed with embarrassment. How could she explain to Helen that she was afraid to be alone with Grey because she was fearful of breaking her promise to herself?

  “Then why not stay and sit with him? I know he wants you to. And Louisa can stay here. I’ll be fine without her, and she’s hard of hearing so you may speak freely to Grey.”

  Madelaine glanced at Louisa, who sat quietly knitting in a corner. Could she stay with Grey and Helen’s lady’s maid? She felt herself wavering, and then Grey’s deep laughter filled the hallway. Her stomach fluttered, and she shook her head while scrambling around the room to gather the remainder of her things. “I can’t. I must go, now.” She could hear Grey talking to someone outside the door, and longing to be near him pierced her heart.

  Helen stomped her slipper. “I don’t understand you,” she said in a low tone. “I don’t mean to be overly bold but you do like him, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I do.”

  “Well then, my dear, if you don’t want to lose him, you’d better act as if you like him before another lady steals his heart.”

  “Don’t put ridiculous notions in Madelaine’s head, Aunt Helen.” Grey’s deep voice made Madelaine jump. Her gaze flew to the doorway where he stood and a tremor filled her. He was perfectly shaven, his thick wavy hair wet and combed back from his face. He wore a dark blue coat that enhanced the golden color of his skin beautifully, and his tan breeches clung to his lean, muscular thighs. He looked the impeccable gentleman of Court except for the bloody gash on his face.

  Her resolve not to say more than a polite greeting to him was forgotten on a rush of words. “What happened to you?” She was not conscious she’d moved until she stood right before him, and his heady masculine scent invaded her, but she could not will herself to move away.

  He raised a gloved hand to his right cheek. “Is the damned thing bleeding again?”

  She nodded. “What happened?”

  “More training. But I was distracted with other thoughts.” His gaze locked on her, smoky blue and intense.

  “You’ll be the death of him,” his aunt murmured as she gave him a kiss and swept out of the room with her lady’s maid behind her. From the hall came Helen’s impatient voice. “Come, Lady Madelaine, if you still are departing.”

  A sense of vital desperation clung to Grey as a faint, sardonic smile curved his lips. “You don’t have to avoid me. You’ve made clear your wishes.”

  It had been on the tip of her tongue to say goodbye, but his words changed everything. He’d completely misinterpreted why she was avoiding him, and his misunderstanding was entirely her fault. She needed to be truthful with him. Her stomach rolled and heat crept up her chest and face. She had to be brave. She had to tell him, or risk losing him to another woman, as his aunt had so bluntly pointed out. “Lady Helen, I’ll be staying if your lady’s maid can still act as chaperone.”

  Helen’s silent answer was to send her maid scurrying back into the room. Louisa bobbed a curtsy to them. “Where would you like me?”

  “Yorkshire,” Grey responded with a scowl toward the door where Helen’s laughter trickled back to them from the hall.

  Madelaine pressed her lips together on her amusement. “Why don’t you take the settee? It’s the most comfortable chair in the room and you can spread out your knitting.” Not to mention it was the only place she and Grey would have been able to sit close together. Putting Louisa there took care of the problem of her and Grey possibly touching. Even an inadvertent caress could crumble her defenses.

  As Louisa shuffled over to the settee, a faint smile curved Grey’s lips. “Why do you need another chaperone? My sister is here. And she’s on the mend.” Grey swept his hand toward the bed where Elizabeth slept so soundly that her snoring filled the room.

  Madelaine arched an eyebrow. “Yes, a fine chaperone she’d make.”

  Grey grinned lazily, his gaze sweeping down the length of Madelaine’s body. “She seems the perfect chaperone to me.”

  “You mustn’t say such things.”

  “What did I say?” He looked utterly innocent and handsome.
/>   She laughed as she recounted his words. “You said nothing. But it’s the way you say nothing.”

  “I promise to say everything in the most monotone voice I can muster the entire time we’re together.” He motioned toward two chairs under the window that faced Elizabeth’s bed. “We can sit there, talk and keep an eye on Liz at the same time.”

  Madelaine nodded and started toward the chairs, startling when Grey took her hand. “Lord Grey,” she chided, addressing him formally because of Louisa’s presence. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held tight.

  “Just leading you safely to your seat,” he said in a voice so lacking intonation that she chuckled.

  “How very kind of you, Lord Grey. I’ve been walking on my own two legs for twenty years now. I’m quite the expert.”

  “Yes, but this floor is treacherously bumpy.” He made a show of tapping his foot on the floor.

  Once seated, he released her hand, but not without trailing his fingers along the inside of her palm. Delicious tingling sensations ran from her palm, up the length of her arm and sent her heart into a faster beat. Tongue tied with how he made her feel and nervous over how to start her confession, she settled on an obvious task. “Shall I clean your cut for you?”

  “If you’re not afraid to touch me.” A provocative challenge rang in his words.

  Madelaine narrowed her eyes in warning even as her body responded to the subtle change of his tone. She rose, wet a rag, and came to sit beside him. “You’ve forgotten yourself.” She dabbed at his cut.

  “I’m terribly sorry.” He grinned sheepishly, and she could just imagine him young, full of mischief, and grinning precisely that way to his nanny.

  After she wiped the last traces of blood away, she returned the rag to the wash stand and settled back beside Grey. “I bet you were never spanked as a child, were you?”