What A Rogue Wants

by Julie Johnstone

  Grey pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’d better get going.”

  She pulled back enough to see his expression. Was that disgust flickering in his eyes? She blinked, and whatever she’d seen was gone. She rubbed her burning eyes. “I’m exhausted.”

  “You can sleep while I drive the coach to Kew.”

  “Kew?” Her throat constricted with fear. Had he changed his mind? “I need to see the prince, not the king.”

  “I know.” Grey took her hand and led her toward the stairs. “The prince is in Kew.”

  That couldn’t be right. Her father had said the prince was on a trip. “How do you know?”

  Grey paused at the top of the stairs and looked down at her. “My brother told me at Court.”

  Her heart raced at his words. Now was a perfect opportunity to try to ease some of his suffering over thinking his father never cared for him. “Your brother knows a great deal about politics. I imagine your father knew a great deal as well.”

  An odd expression crossed Grey’s face. “As I’ve said, he had the king’s ear as a wealthy landowner. Why do you ask?”

  She followed him through the cellar door and into the kitchen. “I just wonder if perhaps your father might have been so busy with the king’s business that it caused him to neglect you.”

  Grey wheeled around. “What are you trying to tell me, Madelaine?”

  Behind Grey a pot flashed in a sliver of moonlight above his head. Madelaine blinked, sure she was seeing things. But when the pot flashed again and came down with a resounding thump on the back of Grey’s head, Madelaine screamed as he crumpled to his knees with a groan.

  “Grey,” Madelaine exclaimed and bent to help him stand.

  Grey waved her off. “I’ll live. Luckily for your friend, I’ve a hard head.”

  Madelaine rose and glared at Abby. “Abigail Langley! What on earth are you doing here? And what were you thinking?”

  Abby lifted her hem, gave Grey a narrow-eyed look, and scrambled around him before coming to stand in front of Madelaine and embrace her in a hug. “I’m here because someone in the village said they saw a woman riding hell-bent toward your home. I knew right away it had to be you. You’re the only woman I know who rides a horse as a man does.”

  Madelaine frowned. “I’m sure there has to be at least one other woman who doesn’t like riding sidesaddle.”

  Grey rose to his feet, rubbing his head. “Why on earth did you hit me?”

  “I thought Madelaine needed saving from you.” Abby gave Grey a cool look that made Madelaine smile.

  She’d never known a servant quite as confident or proud as Abby. Madelaine was so glad to see her and know she was all right.

  “Where are you staying? Are you safe? Did you find employment?”

  Abby cleared her throat. “I’m in town at the local inn. Mother went to Uncle Jake’s. He was only willing to take one of us in.”

  Madelaine’s jaw dropped. The local inn was no place for any young woman who wanted to keep her innocence or a decent future. She grasped Abby by the arm. “Oh, Abby! I swear when Father gets out of this mess, he’ll come for you. And your mother,” Madelaine added as an afterthought.

  “I’m not worried. Especially since you’re here now. You are here to stay, aren’t you?”

  Madelaine glanced at Grey. Abby was the one person Madelaine could confide in and Abby had a good head for figuring things out. But she couldn’t tell her friend the truth of what was happening in front of Grey. But if Abby came with them, surely there would be a moment when they were alone, or when Grey fell asleep that they could talk. The man had to sleep, after all. An idea struck Madelaine, and she turned to Grey. “Do you think your aunt or sister would take Abby on as a servant?”

  He yawned as if bored with the conversation. “If I ask them to.”

  Madelaine wet her lips, embarrassed to be asking him for anything in light of what she’d done and what she was planning to do. What choice was there, though? If Grey promised to find Abby employment, he’d keep his word no matter what occurred. “Abby is an excellent hairdresser and seamstress.”

  Abby nodded. “Truly I am, Lord Drivel.”

  Grey smiled. “You recognize me?”

  “Yes.” Her tone held amusement.

  Grey’s eyes narrowed. “Was this before or after you hit me?”

  Her lips pressed together, but her smile was evident. “Before.”

  “Then why on earth did you hit me?” He sounded irritable with his clipped words.

  “Because, Lord Drivel,” Abby replied, her tone uncharacteristically tart. “I recognized you from the day Lady Madelaine and I met you in Golden Square, but I also recognize you from the day you and your men dragged Lord Stratmore from this house.”

  “What’s she talking about?” Madelaine’s stomach twisted into knots.

  Grey shot her a wary glance. “I’m Lord Pearson’s equerry.”

  “And?” Did he expect her to be satisfied with that one line?

  “And Lord Pearson was required by the king to come question your father, so I was required as well.”

  Anger and disbelief curled inside her belly. “You lied to me.”

  “I didn’t. You didn’t ask me if I came here, so I didn’t lie. Frankly, I didn’t relish the idea of telling you I was in the company of men who took your father to the tower for treason and murder.

  “What!” Abby’s face turned pale.

  Madelaine ignored her friend and kept her gaze firmly on Grey. She could understand why he might be worried about telling her, but he had lied, and she suspected he was lying to her now. But about what? The only thing she could think of was that Grey knew exactly what his brother and father were. Maybe Grey was a spy for the king as well. But if he was, then did he truly love her or was he using her to trap her father? Her father’s words about not trusting anyone, especially Grey, flooded her mind. A tremor ran through her. She’d been a fool, made dull-witted by love.

  She pasted what she prayed was an understanding smile on her face. “I can see why you would have been reluctant to tell me you helped drag my father to the tower. I would have felt the same way had the situations been reversed.”

  “I’m glad you understand.” He held his arm out to her. “We need to get going. I don’t like traveling in the dark, but I don’t think we have time to wait for daybreak.”

  She hesitated before taking his arm. “Will you recommend Abby to your aunt?” She didn’t want to drag Abby into this mess, but leaving her here alone would be worse.

  “I vow my aunt will give Abby a position, no matter what.”

  No matter what? Madelaine’s lips trembled as she tried to offer a gracious smile. Did he mean no matter if I’m lying to you, or if I’ll betray you and see you hung beside your father? She didn’t like this game she was being forced to play. If Grey didn’t love her, she would be heartbroken. And if he did, she would also be heartbroken when he realized she had betrayed him. There was no way to win. And no way out. At this point, she just prayed she could keep herself and her father alive.

  After Grey secured the horses to Madelaine’s father’s carriage, they left for Kew. Madelaine wanted to spill her heart out to Abby and see if she had any other ideas, but Abby prevented that scenario when she insisted on riding on the driver’s bench with Grey. Grey refused to let anyone drive the carriage but him. Stupid man. They’d end up dead with him at the reins. Red streaked the whites of his eyes and he yawned every few minutes. He had to be exhausted. Abby obviously could see it as well or she wouldn’t have insisted on riding beside him. Maybe Abby thought she could grab the reins if he fell asleep?

  There was no point in arguing. All three of them were stubborn people, and they could stand around all day fighting about who should drive and who should sleep and never get anywhere. There was not a minute to waste if she was going to save her father. Madelaine resigned herself to talk to Abby later and then climbed into the carriage and settled herself on the soft cushi
on. She stared out of the window into the passing darkness as the carriage bumped along the road at a fast-paced clip. Was Grey eager to get her to Kew to help her or was everything that he’d told her a lie?

  Dear God! If she and Grey had married, and he was a spy, she would have been unknowingly married to a spy, just as her mother had been. The idea of almost living her mother’s same fate made her gulp. She didn’t want a life of secrets and lies that led to anger and unhappiness. All she’d ever wanted was to be accepted and loved for who she really was. She’d thought she’d found that with Grey.

  A warm trail of tears slid down her face. She brushed them away impatiently. She had no time for tears or a broken heart. Later, once her father was released, she’d attend to her heart. Methodically, she thought of and discarded ways to escape Grey. It would be easier now that Abby was with her. Between the two of them, they should be able to overcome him if they could get their hands on his pistol. When he slept, possibly?

  She leaned her head against the side of the carriage as despair overwhelmed her, constricting her throat and her heart. When she’d given her heart to Grey she’d never imagined ending up here. Maybe it was her due penance. Punishment for contributing to the problems between her parents that had driven them apart. She squeezed her eyes shut wanting to sleep for a while and forget everything. The rocking of the carriage calmed her like a drug and after a bit, her body grew heavy and her mind begin to drift.

  MADELAINE AWOKE WHEN HER head smacked against the side of the carriage. When the vehicle jerked hard to the left, she gripped her seat to avoid flying out of it then attempted to move toward the window. What was happening? She was halfway across the seat when the carriage hit a bump forcing her to cling to the cushion. Outside, a loud noise boomed through the air. Was that a pistol being fired? Her heart took off in a gallop that matched the pace of the horses.

  The carriage slowed and came to a shuddering stop. Momentum threw her off the seat and to her knees. Pain sliced into her bones and vibrated up the length of her body. Before she could rise, the door whipped open, and a strong hand gripped her arm. Grey pulled her out of the carriage and plopped her onto her feet. Her skin tingled with fear. When she didn’t see Abby, Madelaine scanned the perimeter of the forest. “Where is she?”

  Grey pointed toward the dense woods. “I sent her that way. Someone’s been following us.” Behind them in the pitch-black dark the hard clopping of horses’ hooves rang in the mostly silent woods, then suddenly stopped.

  “Damn it.” Grey glanced behind him into the darkness. “Follow Abby,” he whispered. “And keep running until you reach Cheshire if I don’t catch up with you. It’s close. Go to the King’s Inn and ask for Charlie.”

  Grey suddenly ducked and yanked Madelaine to the ground with him. She hit the dirt with a thud, the hard, unforgiving ground knocking the air out of her lungs. Bright stars shone in her eyes and a dull ache exploded across her temples.

  “We’re being shot at,” Grey hissed, dragging her belly-first through the dry leaves over hard ground.

  “I got that,” she murmured. Another shot exploded, the sound making her instinctively cover her head with her free hand.

  “Help me,” Grey demanded. She pushed with her feet against the dirt to slide toward the tree she made out in the darkness. The pistol exploded again, the noise of the shot amplified by the increasing nearness. A scream wrenched from her throat as bark from the tree beside her hit her in the right cheek. A sharp sting slashed across her skin followed immediately by warm, sticky blood.

  “Goddamn it,” Grey growled. “I’ll kill whoever’s trying to kill us.”

  “Perfectly reasonable.” She wiped at her cheek while pushing with her feet and shimmying over the dirt and rough roots of the tree to take shelter behind the large trunk. Just as they settled behind the trunk, Grey slammed his hand over her head and pressed her face, mouth first, into the dirt. For a moment panic clawed at her throat. He was going to suffocate her. Wait. She sniffed. She could breathe. She took a ragged breath and pushed his hand away. “Grey?”

  “Stay down.” She didn’t need to be told twice. Bullets flew nearby, the loud pop of each shot resounding in her ears. The smell of smoke filled the air. She jumped at the cocking click of Grey’s pistol. His hand settled briefly on her back as if to calm her. “It’s too late for you to run. I’m sorry.”

  The anguish that filled his voice made her heart jerk but there was no time to respond. She locked her gaze on a lone figure emerging on the path in a sliver of moonlight. Blazes. She couldn’t see his face. He came a step closer, and she clutched at the ground. He had two pistols aimed directly at them.

  Grey scrambled to his knees, raised his own pistol and fired.

  The man disappeared off the trail leaving only the harrowing sound of a deranged cackle. Madelaine breathed in as all the sounds of the forest crashed around her sensitive ears. Twigs snapped, animals scampered, and somewhere to the right of them a terrible voice rose out of the dark shadows.

  “You’ll die tonight, Lord Grey.”

  She trembled.

  “Who are you?” Grey demanded as he worked to reload his pistol.

  “I’m the man who is going to destroy you.”

  Madelaine’s breath caught in her throat. Instinctively, she grasped the back of Grey’s coat. He pushed her away, the hard bark from the tree scraping her legs through the thin material of her dress. He moved directly in front of her. “Let the lady go. She’s innocent.”

  “Innocent?” the man called back. “No one’s innocent, young lord. Best for you to understand that right now. If you’ve turned your back on the fair Lady Madelaine, I suggest you turn round. The biggest threat always comes from those you trust most.”

  Madelaine’s breast swelled with a silent protest. She couldn’t see Grey’s face and how the man’s words affected him, but the muscles of his back tensed under her grasping fingertips. To their left a horse came charging out of the woods without a rider. A distraction. Her mind registered the fact. She turned to the right, Grey did the same. But it was too late. The hesitation had cost them. The stranger stood on the path directly in front of them. She smelled his sweat and the gunpowder that had discharged from his pistols. He stepped closer, his face blanketed by the dark. “Hand over Lady Madelaine,” the man growled.

  Grey stood and moved out from behind the tree with his pistol aimed at the man.

  “I wouldn’t shoot if I were you, Lord Grey. I’ve two pistols. Even if you manage to hit me, I could still shoot her. I don’t want to. But to save myself, I will. Don’t make me.”

  Though she thought the tree would protect her, Madelaine shrank further behind the oak and away from the man. Something about his voice struck greater fear in her than the two pistols he aimed at them. Frantically, she searched the ground for a stick to use to throw at the man to distract him and give Grey a fighting chance.

  “Move and you’re dead,” Grey snarled.

  “An impasse?” the man taunted.

  Madelaine closed her fingers over dirt, twigs and leaves. None of that could help her. Her throat constricted with despair. She couldn’t just let Grey die. She pushed herself off the ground to charge at the man. A strong arm clamped around her waist and a rough hand over her mouth.

  She was propelled backward through the air by whoever had her. Not more than ten feet away, her feet touched the ground, and she was jerked roughly around. Lord Gravenhurst glared at her. “Don’t move a goddamn inch.” He withdrew a pistol and crawled silently back toward the oak tree and Grey. Relief threatened to buckle her knees, but there was no time for respite or indecision. Grey would be fine now.

  This was her chance to flee. She waivered for a second, caught by wanting to make sure Grey emerged alive and knowing if she didn’t go she might not get another chance. A stick broke beside her, and her heart jumped and then plunged as a figure emerged from the woods.

  “It’s Abby,” Abby whispered.

  Madelaine relea
sed a rush of breath, all her nerves tingling. “We need to escape.”

  Abby didn’t hesitate or question. She yanked Madelaine toward her and pulled her up an incline. As they climbed the small slope and deeper into the dark woods, branches scratched Madelaine’s arms and face and tore at her clothing. Sharp pains pricked her sides as she ran and her breath came in short gasps. At the top of the hill, they stopped by a large tree.

  “One minute,” she choked out, doubling over. She put her hand out to keep from falling, but her legs gave way. With a thump, she sagged to her knees, her hands splayed atop gnarled roots meandering in all directions.

  Abby fell beside her with a huff. They sat for a moment, their ragged breathing the only noise Madelaine could hear until a bang rent the night. She jerked and shoved at the leafy ground to gain purchase. Her heartbeat roared in her ears. Was Grey wounded? Should she go back or forward? Another pistol fired into the silent night. Her heart pumped furiously, indecision making her sick. If she went back, she could be killed or captured. If she went forward, she’d save her father.

  “Let’s go,” she said, her voice raw with pain and sorrow. “We’ve got to get to Kew and the prince.” They barreled through the woods away from the stranger and Grey. The muscles in her legs burned as she climbed the hill, but she pushed herself to keep going. Through the thinning trees, a steep drop opened to her right.

  Tears burned her eyes, and her throat ached with the need to cry. She shoved branches out of her path as she ran, the tears breaking through her determination and blurring her vision. Unable to see properly, she wiped furiously at her eyes. A branch caught her in the chest. It knocked the wind out of her and she stumbled on a root.