What A Rogue Wants

by Julie Johnstone

  Damn. Damn. Damn. If he focused on the chant and the steady, fast clop of the horses’ hooves, he could keep his uncertainty away. His ploy worked for the better part of three hours, but then she fell asleep and slumped against him, soft, trusting and beautiful. Her flowery smell invaded first his nose, then his mind and finally his heart. He stared alternately between the road and her beautiful lips. Then the road and the long, slender slope of her neck. Road and black eyelashes against creamy skin.

  Blast! He jerked the reins hard to the right as he almost drove them off the road. Madelaine moaned and stirred beside him, but she did not wake. No indeed. She snuggled into him, and then she flopped onto her side, her head landing in his lap and her slender fingers curling around his thigh. A sigh escaped her.

  He tensed every muscle. Longing and need shot through him. He’d never allowed himself to need anyone after he’d failed to gain his father’s love, and then Madelaine had come along. She’d stolen his heart with her uniqueness and her goodness. Anger stirred. What goodness? It was a lie.

  Or was it?

  Was she merely a pawn in her father’s game? When he recalled her kisses, the way she looked naked, and the love he thought they’d shared, he wanted to believe in her. What would doubt do? Give her a fighting chance to escape? Would she abandon her father if she saw the king and understood what was at stake?

  She moved again, her hair falling like a thick blanket over her face to hide it. He resisted the twitching urge to push the tresses behind her ears. Pain tore him apart from the inside out. Maybe this pain was his punishment.

  He’d given a vow to the king and then he’d turned around and been prepared to abandon his vow. What sort of man was he? Grey laughed bitterly. He’d set out to prove himself worthy of his father’s trust and he’d proven just the opposite. Old, familiar self-pity poured through him, but he ruthlessly reined it in.

  “Grey,” Madelaine whimpered in her sleep.

  “Hell.” He was too weak to deny himself one more touch. Reaching down, he stroked her hair, then gently pushed it away from her face. Even scratched and dirty she was beautiful. No chant would help him now. Thoughts pounded him from every direction. He glanced down at her again. This was the last time he would allow himself to touch her. “You break my heart,” he whispered and then looked up to drive them toward Kew.

  THE PALACE AT KEW SPRAWLED across a bright green lawn with rows of lush trees surrounding the palace on either side. Any other time, Madelaine would have longed to sit in the grass occupied with nothing more than memorizing every detail of the beautiful building. Holding herself stiff on the carriage bench careful not to brush her leg against Grey’s, she dismissed the beauty around her. She needed to concentrate, but fear made it hard.

  The sun cast fading rays on the lawn to join the developing shadows and cool breeze. Night was fast approaching. The darkness would certainly suit her mood better than the sunshine of the day had. It had been humiliating to wake with her head on Grey’s lap, but when he never said a word, nor spoke to her the entire trip here, her humiliation had grown.

  The carriage rumbled down the stone drive toward the entrance. Once Grey pulled it to a stop, stable hands emerged to hold the horses. Grey dismounted, then held his hand out to Madelaine to help her down the three steps.

  She blinked. It was hard to believe he was willing to touch her. With hesitation, she grasped his hand. He curled his fingers around hers, and his heated touch seeped through the material of her gloves. Her heart swelled. She nearly blurted out the love that was still inside of her. She looked down, afraid one glimpse of her face would reveal to Grey how she still foolishly felt about him. To be fair though, love would take time to kill if it could even be obliterated at all. Of course, the noose they intended to put around her neck would take care of her feelings soon enough. She gulped at the thought.

  Grey helped Abby out of the carriage and then led them both up the steps to the front entrance. To Madelaine’s utter astonishment, the door swung open to reveal a butler and Grey’s Aunt Helen, dressed resplendently in gold.

  Grey’s mouth dropped half-open. Obviously, he’d not expected his aunt to be here. “Aunt Helen?” Grey swooped through the door and dragged Madelaine behind him. Did he think she would try to escape even now?

  Once they were inside and the door was shut, the angry voices somewhere close were impossible to ignore. Madelaine studied Grey’s aunt. She looked composed except for her furrowed brow.

  “What are you doing here, Aunt Helen?”

  “The queen requested I come to be with her, but I’m to leave today. The king wished all but family members and the doctors to leave.”

  Grey nodded, his gaze straying from his aunt to the sitting room down the hall where the arguing voices appeared to be coming from.

  Helen gestured to the bags sitting against the wall. “I was just about to depart. My driver is pulling my carriage around now.” Helen smiled at Madelaine. “It’s good to see you, my dear. I was worried about your abrupt departure from Court. No one seemed to really know where you had gone. Is all well?”

  Grey pushed Abby toward his aunt, which saved Madelaine from having to lie. “This is Abby,” Grey said. “She needs employment and comes highly recommended. Can you take her with you as a personal favor to me and employ her?”

  Helen raised her eyebrows but nodded. “It just so happens I need another lady’s maid. My current one has gotten so old she sleeps all the time. This will be perfect. Louisa can train you and eventually you can take her place. We can discuss the particulars in the carriage, if this suits you?”

  Abby nodded then bit her lip as she focused on Madelaine.

  Tears constricted Madelaine’s throat. Was Grey sending Abby away now so she would not be with her when they took her to the tower? She was grateful. She loved Abby and if she could save her from harm then she would. “Go, Abby.” Madelaine’s voice hitched. “There’s nothing you can do for me.”

  “But, Madelaine―”

  “I insist. Besides, I don’t think Lord Grey will allow you to stay. Will you, my lord?”

  He shook his head, settling his gaze, cold as ice, on her. “I’m afraid not.”

  She sucked in a choked breath but said nothing. Whatever he’d felt for her was gone, if it had ever been truth. Loneliness swallowed her.

  Abby flung herself at Madelaine with a sob. “My lady,” she moaned.

  “Grey,” Helen said, her tone halting. “Might they have a private moment to say goodbye?”

  “I suppose it can do no harm.”

  Madelaine gave Helen a grateful smile as the woman put her arm around Madelaine and led her and Abby out the door. Helen’s carriage was already in front, her coachman waiting. He rushed past them and came out carrying the first of many bags.

  Abby squeezed Madelaine’s hand before addressing Grey. “Might we have our moment now, my lord?”

  “Certainly. I’ll just help with the bags.”

  The notion was absurd, but Madelaine held her comment. Helen kissed Madelaine’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

  Madelaine doubted that, unless Helen attended hangings or by some miracle, it didn’t come to that. “Thank you for your kindness,” she said, barely managing to hold in the sob threatening to escape.

  “Nonsense. We ladies of the Court must stick together,” Helen said, before sweeping into her carriage and shutting the door.

  Abby immediately grabbed Madelaine by the arms. “You must listen.”

  Madelaine nodded.

  “I know you think you were the wedge that drove your parents apart, but it’s not true.”

  “Don’t try to make me feel better,” Madelaine said.

  “I’m not.” Abby released her and unclamped the gold locket around her neck. She handed it to Madelaine. “Open it.”

  Madelaine frowned but complied. A picture of her father was on one side of the locket beside a picture of Abby’s mother. “Oh, Abby. I’m sure he thought of you as a da
ughter as well.”

  “No, Madelaine.” Abby’s voice was pained. “He didn’t, though he knew he was my father.”

  “What?” She had to be misunderstanding.

  “You didn’t drive a wedge between your parents. My mother did. And then I did. Your father and my mother had an affair, and I was the product, born three months before you.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Madelaine’s stomach clenched.

  “It’s true. Your mother didn’t hate you. I think she hated the life she was stuck in. Ma told me when your mother found out about their affair, your father promised her she could leave.” Abby snorted. “Men and their promises. He said they would live apart as if they were not married, but she could reap the benefits of his money and title. Then your mother found out she was pregnant, and he wouldn’t let her go until he was sure she wasn’t having a son.”

  Bitterness filled Madelaine’s mouth like the tartest of candies. She sucked her cheeks in. She’d thought her father had adored her from the day she was born. He’d been the one person who’d loved her unconditionally, until her mother had died and he’d wanted her to change. She’d been wrong. He’d not loved her from her birth. He’d wanted a son. Hoped for a son. Was there nothing about her life that had been as she thought? “Why didn’t he leave after I was born?”

  “Your father had left on a trip. He was gone for near a year, and Ma told me when he returned you were coming up to your first birthday. You were already reckless like a boy. He instantly loved you and refused to let you go. He told your mother to leave, but she stayed because she loved you too. She didn’t hate you. She hated him and the fact that you loved him.”

  Tears blurred Madelaine’s eyes. Her mother had stayed for her. Yet she’d taken her anger with Father out on her. Father had wanted a son, gotten a girl and did really love her. She’d been born an oddity, but Father had loved that. It suited him because he’d wanted a son. In a way it made sense. She dashed a shaking hand over her eyes. If only she’d known her mother had loved her a little, life would have been so much easier. If she’d known her mother had stayed for her, she would have done everything in her power to be the daughter she wanted. Behind her, footsteps clomped down the stairs.

  “Time to go, miss,” the coachman said.

  Abby gripped Madelaine in a fierce hug. “I love you,” she whispered in Madelaine’s ear. “Save yourself. Your father has lost his way, but he wouldn’t want you to go down with him.”

  Madelaine watched the carriage drive away and take the only person she could really trust out of her life, probably for good. Her knees felt like cream, but she managed to stay upright. Grey stood silently beside her; close enough so she couldn’t run yet not so close they might accidentally brush against one another. Thoughts swirled in her head. She couldn’t save her father, but could she save herself?

  Madelaine bit her lip with uncertainty. Even if she could bring herself to abandon her father, would Grey let her escape? She harbored no illusions that she could get away from him unless he willingly let her go. If he had really loved her he might, but if he’d been using her, she didn’t stand a chance. How to ferret out which was the truth. Before she could decide, he faced her and stared for a long moment like he might stare at a snake set to strike.

  “Come.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the door.

  She didn’t resist. What was the point? His look of disgust said everything. He’d never let her escape. As they entered the house, angry voices drifted toward them. Grey paused midway down the hall as if trying to decide whether to take her with him or leave her here. Making up his mind, he tugged her down the hall and stopped in front of a door that led into what appeared to be the king’s audience room.

  Madelaine gasped as she peered into the room. His Majesty’s hair stuck out in spiky patches from his head. He seemed nothing like the orderly king she was used to seeing. His clothing was a wrinkled mess and a shadow of stubble covered his normally rosy cheeks. And his eyes… She shivered at the sight of his wild eyes. He looked angry enough to kill someone. He struck out at one of his pages while the other one advanced toward the king.

  “You deceived me,” the king said to the room full of men. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the dark, unyielding tone held the promise of retribution. The king’s sudden change of demeanor made the hairs at the back of her neck rise.

  She tensed, expecting someone to demand she and Grey leave at once, but no one spared them notice. She tried to capture Grey’s attention, but his focus was riveted to the scene before him.

  The king advanced once again on the servant. “You cannot keep me here.”

  In answer, the taller of the two pages reached out to restrain His Majesty.

  The king slapped the man’s hand away. “You dare to touch your king!”

  The page’s eyes widened as if he was at a loss for what to do. A man with a shock of white hair moved cautiously toward the king, a needle gripped in his hand. “Your Majesty,” he implored.

  The king jerked toward the man. “You cannot make me eat! You cannot make me sleep!” The king pounded his fist against the chair he stood in front of. “Where is my queen? Where are my daughters?”

  “Please, Your Majesty.” The physician, because surely he was one, tried to inch toward the king once more.

  “Stay back,” the king hissed. “I don’t trust you. You lured me from my home with lies.”

  Madelaine’s blood ran colder than the wintery waters of the river by her house. Beside her, Grey tensed. Was the king now insane? Was this what her father feared would come to pass and why he’d betrayed his liege? She swayed with the emotions of relief and pity.

  “Your Majesty,” the physician tried again, his tone dropping close to a whisper. “No one wants your throne.”

  A strangled laugh escaped the king. “Everyone wants my throne, right down to my eldest son.”

  Madelaine nearly gasped. How right he was. She didn’t think the king was insane. He was sick, and he was angry because he knew many of those he needed to trust most were untrustworthy. Would turn on him. As her father had.

  The king swung toward the door, and Madelaine hurried to scurry out of his way and the fury blazing from his eyes. He stopped in his tracks, his gaze widening for a moment as he assessed her, and then he inclined his head, once again every bit the strong leader, the noble king.

  Her heart squeezed for him and what he must be enduring. To be unsure of your own mind and then to think you could not count on those around you to stand by you, her father included. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Lady Madelaine, to what do we owe this honor?”

  She dropped to a curtsy, unsure what to say. When she stood, it was as if the tension of the room had drained away. “Your Majesty, I’m being escorted back to the castle by Lord Grey.” She regarded Grey. Let him tell the king she was a traitor, she’d not name herself so, even if it was now true. She loved the king, and if the decision had been hers alone to make―the truth struck her. By God, she would have never made the decision her father had.

  “Lord Grey? I thought not to see you for some time. Do you not have business elsewhere?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty, but Lord Pearson charged me with seeing Lady Madelaine to her home and then back to Windsor first.”

  The king’s mouth turned downward. “Come to my chambers. It seems we need to talk.” Command given, he exited the room, his gold-threaded robe flying out behind him. Grey grabbed Madelaine’s hand and pulled her behind him, and within a few moments she sat in a room and wrapped her hands around her waist to hide their shaking.

  The king swept his gaze over her. “You have your mother’s eyes, rich amber like the finest tea in the kingdom.”

  “You remember my mother?” Madelaine asked in surprise.

  The king smiled, the act transforming his haggard face and making him appear almost healthy for a moment.

  “But of course. I remember all beautiful women, but especially
one who served my queen with such graciousness.”

  Madelaine caught her breath. Thank goodness the king didn’t know how her mother had really felt about the queen. That would not help Madelaine to plead her case now. “My mother was very pleased to serve you,” Madelaine said, glad she could craft an answer that was not a lie.

  The king leaned back in his chair. “I know. I admired your mother. It’s why I married her to your father. I thought to do her a service, but I fear I dealt them both a disservice.”

  “I never knew you suggested my father marry my mother.”

  The king chuckled. “I didn’t suggest it, Lady Madelaine. I commanded it, which is what kings do. Yet sometimes, even kings make a mistake, which is why I surround myself with wise men to counsel me.” The king focused on Grey. “Lord Grey, see Lady Madelaine to the library and then you and I shall speak.”

  Madelaine stood and curtsied. Her eyes watered with emotion. His Majesty was obviously very astute when he was in his right mind. Anger flared in her. Her father was wrong. The king could rule, if strong men would help him as her father should have kept doing. Had he tried? Had he tried and the king refused? If not, she couldn’t fathom what had turned her father against the man he’d served his entire life.

  MADELAINE STAYED IN THE SEAT where Grey had deposited her with instructions not to move a muscle. But the more she thought things over the more she decided she had every right to know what her fate was going to be. She eyed the closed library door and then the closed door that led to the king’s private chambers adjacent to the room she sat in.

  One thing she’d grown good at over the years was eavesdropping to learn if her parents were fighting. That way she knew when to try to avoid her mother. She could hear secrets outside the thickest door so long as there was a crack at the bottom. The ornate door to the king’s private chamber with the sun filtering into the library from the bottom was no different than the less expensive door in her home.