What A Rogue Wants

by Julie Johnstone

  She rose, careful not to make a sound, and crept over to the library door where she turned the lock to ensure she would not be discovered. Then, with a thudding heart, she tiptoed to the adjacent door and sinking to her knees, pressed close to the ground and the space where the sun shone in. She couldn’t see anything but that hardly mattered, she knew the king’s voice.

  “Terrible business,” he said, paper crinkling on the other side of the door. Had Grey given the king back his paper? Was her father now condemned? Was she condemned?

  “Sire, what do you wish me to do?” Grey asked.

  Drumming― fingers on a table perhaps―came from the room. “I don’t know. I cannot ignore my own culpability. I knew Stratmore was angry when I forced him to leave France. He was sure Sutton was alive, and he could save him. I was sure I’d lose one more good and loyal spy if Stratmore stayed to try to find Sutton. Even after we found Sutton’s ring, I could see the anger toward me in Stratmore’s eyes. I think he blamed me for Sutton’s death. He thinks I made the wrong decision, but damn it―”

  The bang on the other side of the room was followed by the sound of something―glass―which fell and shattered. Madelaine inhaled a steadying breath and pressed closer to the floor.

  “I didn’t make the decision alone. I sought your father’s advice as I will now seek your brother’s. I know my limitations with my malady.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  A chair squeaked, and suddenly the shadow of shoes fell by the door. Madelaine rested her hands against the floor, held her breath and prepared to jump and run to her chair if the door started to open.

  “I want you to vow something to me, Lord Grey, as I made your brother vow and your father before him.”

  “Of course.”

  “If you see that my mind is too addled to rule, and your brother agrees, I have written my express wishes that my son rule as regent. The paper is locked in the gold box in my room at Windsor. Your brother knows the box. Take the paper, get it to the prince, and I’ve no doubt he’ll be happy to take my throne from me. Vow this to me.”

  “I vow it,” Grey swore, his voice trembling.

  Madelaine rose on shaking legs and made her way to the chair. She sunk down and buried her face in her hands, struggling to contain her sobs for her king, her father and herself. Father was a fool. He’d betrayed his king when there was no need, and she’d willingly gone down with him. Maybe she was a fool too.

  What had driven Father’s choices? Had he done it because of an old anger about being forced to marry Mother? Or maybe the king forcing Father to leave a comrade he didn’t know for certain was dead? Had that been the thing that turned Father? It didn’t matter. The deed was done. Even now, Grey was probably telling the king of her part. Soon she’d be locked in the tower.

  Grey picked up the paper and walked to the fireplace. He threw it into the flames, watching as it curled inward, flames blackening the paper into ash. It was gone, but what he had to do lingered heavy in his mind. He turned his ring, examining his thoughts.

  Damn, Madelaine. He hated her, yet he still loved her. He could slightly understand if it was only a matter of her compulsion to help her father if he was attempting to protect England, but he couldn’t understand her helping her father or anyone else to kill another spy…Had she known of that? Would she continue her father’s plan―whatever the hell it was―if Grey kept her part secret? Even now, was she plotting a way to escape and meet up with the man who had tried to kill him in the woods?

  “Grey?” The king’s voice startled him out of his musings.

  He swung around and tensed at the sight of Gravenhurst standing by the king’s side, the king’s pallor shockingly white. Grey clenched his jaw. He couldn’t afford to become so distracted by Madelaine that he didn’t notice when someone entered a room, or that the king needed him.

  “Ring for my doctor,” the king commanded.

  Gravenhurst immediately rang the bell on the table by the king’s chair and within seconds, the king’s physician swept into the room. “My lord?”

  “I feel dizzy.” The king’s voice rasped through the room.

  The physician gestured to Gravenhurst. “Fetch the pages. Your Majesty, the bloodletting is making you dizzy. You need broth and rest.”

  Two pages rushed into the room and took the king by either arm to lead him toward the door. The king turned at the threshold and looked at Grey and Gravenhurst. “I leave matters in your capable hands for now. Keep me updated.”

  Grey bowed and when the door shut, he spoke. “Did you find Edward?”

  Gravenhurst shook his head, his face paling until the scar on his forehead stood out like a beacon. “What’s wrong?” Grey demanded, fear making his tone sharper and louder than he’d intended.

  Gravenhurst slid a hand into the pouch at his side and withdrew a soiled, crumpled piece of paper. Gravenhurst unfolded the note. Fear inched along Grey’s skin. The missive was the size they used to send messages between each other by carrier pigeons. Gravenhurst looked up, his eyes burning bright. “I never made it to your home. I stopped halfway to water the horses and check in with one of our contacts who maintains a pigeon house for us. A bird had just arrived with this note and a small package.”

  Grey took the note from Gravenhurst and scanned the scrawl. Lords Grey and Gravenhurst, I have Ashford. I’ll trade his life for that of the lovely Lady Madelaine. Meet me on the 8th at the Dockside Warehouse. Come alone or Ashford dies.

  Today was the eighth. Grey frowned, trying to order his thoughts. “How do we know whoever this is really has Edward?” There was much more he cared to ask, but all he could focus on right now was that one question. Later, he’d ask questions with his pistol pointed at the person he was questioning.

  Gravenhurst thrust a ring toward Grey. Even before looking at the word “allegiance” engraved on the inside, he knew it was Edward’s. Ice thickened his blood as he stormed toward the door Madelaine was sitting behind. He plowed through the entrance, a loud bang announcing his arrival.

  She scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide with fear. Gripping her by the arms, Grey wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled in her head. Instead, he forced himself to release her, wincing at the sight of her reddened flesh where he’d held her too tightly. Blood roared in his ears as he tried to find a calm he didn’t feel. How could she be part of this folly? Had he been so wrong about her? Could she really be plotting to kill the king’s spies? All the evidence suggested so. His jaw ticked uncontrollably, until he had to press a finger against the tick to try to stop it.

  He stood on legs that felt shamefully weak, unable to look away from her. Anger curdled in his belly. He moved a hand toward her, and she flinched away then spoke in a rush of words. “Grey, I’m sorry. I know how upset you must be.”

  “You cannot begin to fathom.” He was drowning in her amber eyes. “I’m looking at you, but I don’t know you. And I realize now I never did.” Just like he’d never known his father. There was too much pain inside of him. He had to once again find a way to convince himself he needed no one.

  MADELAINE STRUGGLED TO STAY AWAKE, but the dark night and the clopping of the horse’s hooves worked as a sleeping draft on her exhausted body. She felt herself slumping forward, too tired to hold herself upright any longer. Her head rested against Gravenhurst’s back, her foggy mind cruelly reminding her that Grey hated her so much he couldn’t even bring himself to touch her. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and drifted.

  A crack of thunder in the sky awoke her sometime later. She sat up and stretched her aching muscles, blinking at the sight of large ships around her. Water clapped rhythmically against the side of the docks as the horses walked down the cobblestone road and a ship’s horn blew from somewhere on the sea. “Why are we at the docks?” she demanded, not that she was in any rush to join her father in the tower.

  She didn’t expect Grey to answer. He’d not spoken to her since asking who she was. Her heart ached at the memor
y of his words. “Lord Gravenhurst, are you now ignoring me as well?”

  He pulled up on the reins and stopped the horse. Grey came to a halt beside them so that he faced her. “We’re here to meet your friend. He wants you, in exchange for my brother’s life, and I intend to deliver you.”

  “What―?” she choked out in astonishment.

  Grey’s lips curled back over his teeth. “As if you weren’t expecting something like this. Don’t worry, sweet Madelaine. I’ll hunt the two of you down once my brother is secure, and bring you and your accomplice back to the tower to join your father in death.”

  Her belly twisted into knots of dread. “I don’t know this man. I don’t have an accomplice, and if you deliver me to whoever this is, you need not bother to come looking for me. I’m certain I’ll be dead.”

  “Stop lying.” Grey’s voice was flat, as if he couldn’t be bothered with what she’d just said.

  Something in Madelaine snapped. She shoved back from Gravenhurst, threw her leg over the horse and jumped. She was running the second her feet hit ground. Maybe before. Behind her, shouts commenced followed by the urgent pounding of feet against the stones. She didn’t know where she was going, but she’d not allow Grey to deliver her to a lunatic. Her breathing came hard as fear and the blood pumping through her veins drove her around the corner of the main street and into an alley.

  Up ahead, music poured into the alley from an open door and the raucous voices of sailors almost made her cry. If she could make it into that tavern maybe she could lose Grey. And then what? She didn’t know. But what choice did she have?

  “Madelaine!” Grey roared as she dodged through the open door of the tavern and stopped short at the sea of faces pressed into the small room. This was perfect! She maneuvered around small tables crowded with drunken men while frantically searching for another way out. Tankards of ale clanked against tables to mix with the rumble of voices.

  “Look, mates, an angel’s floatin’ by,” a deep voice slurred before a hand grabbed her bottom and squeezed. With a yelp, she tried to bat the man’s hand away, but he only squeezed harder. A chorus of raucous laughter erupted from the table, and a new fear, a fear of unspeakable horrors crawled up her flesh. She scanned the faces around the table, her heart hammering painfully and her gaze landed on the only man not smiling. He was dressed as every other man here, but his hair, pale like the moon, was secured neatly back at the nape of his neck. His cheekbones were high, his nose patrician, and his full lips pressed together distastefully. He was her best hope. Pleading with her eyes, she prayed he would help her.

  His fist slammed into the face of the man groping her, the man’s hand dropping with a howl as he fell out of his chair gripping his nose. Madelaine squeezed her eyes to make sure she’d not imagined things. She’d not seen the blond man move until he’d thrown the punch. The table grew silent, but the noise continued around them.

  She stiffened as her savior rose and towered over her. He placed an arm around Madelaine’s waist while glowering at the men around the table. “Don’t any of the rotted lot of you have sisters back home?”

  Madelaine blinked in surprise at the man’s impeccable, lordly accent.

  He glanced down at her. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  She darted a gaze toward the door. “No, but you could tell me if there’s another way out of here.”

  The man pointed toward the back of the tavern. “Leads into an alley that will take you straight to the main road.”

  She nearly fainted with relief, started to thank him, then saw the gleam of a knife blade on the table. That was just what she needed if she should come face to face with any more ruffians. Or if she had to threaten Grey to escape him. “Is that your knife?”

  “It is now.” He flashed a smile. “I won it in a game of cards.”

  She tugged at the large ruby ring on her finger, the only jewelry she wore. “I’ll trade you this ring for that knife.”

  The man eyed the ring for a moment then grabbed the knife and discretely handed it to her hilt first. “Seems like a good trade.” He leaned in close. “You better sheath it in front of this lot. They get jumpy when they see a woman with a weapon.”

  She slipped the knife into her boot and let her skirts drop. “Thank you.” As she started to move away, he grabbed her arm, her heart lurching.

  “Do you need help?”

  Expelling a sigh of relief, she shook her head and forced a smile she didn’t feel. She’d not drag one more person into this mess. Besides, she didn’t know this man. “I just need to go.” She stared pointedly at her arm.

  Once released, she wound through the crowd and made her way to the back door. Her heart thumped, all her nerves tingling. When the door easily opened, she stepped into the dark night and pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. She glanced left to right and saw no one. She needed to flee right now and get as far away from the docks as possible. Once she was hidden, she would figure out the rest.

  Quickening her steps, she ran toward the street that led to the main road and raced around the corner. She needed to find a horse or carriage to steal. Let them add theft to her other crimes. Did it really matter? Laughing bitterly, she swiped at the tears leaking out of her eyes then stopped to pull out her weapon. As she bent to retrieve her dagger, an arm swooped around her waist jerking her off her feet. The unmistakable cold, hard metal of a pistol pressed into her forehead. “Got you.”

  Madelaine bucked her body, trying to break the hold on her.

  “Don’t make me hurt you, Madelaine,” Grey whispered in her ear. She stilled, fear clogging her throat. Immediately, he set her on her feet. Gravenhurst eyed her piteously. Warmth spread up her neck and over her face. Gads! What a time to be embarrassed. But she was. Grey’s hatred of her was palpable in his voice, his stance, the way he flinched when he touched her.

  He pointed the pistol ahead of him. “Will you kindly move that way?”

  As if she had a choice? She started to walk but picked up pace when the pistol nudged her in the back. “Faster, sweet. I wouldn’t want your dragging feet to get my brother killed.”

  By faster, Grey meant run. They raced down the street, pains jabbing in her side. A large building loomed at the end of the lane. Grey stopped and jerked her to the side of the road behind some crates.

  He shoved her to the ground, her palms scraping against gravel. An involuntary hiss of pain escaped her, and she automatically cradled her hands to her body.

  Grey dropped down beside her, his thigh brushing hers, his tense, bulging muscles pressed hard against her leg. He turned to Gravenhurst who crouched at her other side. “You approach from the left, and we’ll come from the right. I expect he’ll be shooting at us.”

  Gravenhurst nodded. “One of us should make it.”

  “I’ll wait here,” Madelaine offered with a nervous laugh.

  Both men eyed her without a smile.

  Grey grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up. “Stay behind me unless you want your friend to accidentally shoot you when he’s aiming for me.”

  She nodded, too afraid to point out, once again, that whoever this man was, he was no friend of hers. They crept through the darkness, darting around trees and winding their way toward the right side of the warehouse. As they reached a door, a shot rang out in the night seeming to come from somewhere above them in the building.

  “Damn it.” Grey gripped her arm once again. “You better hope Gravenhurst is all right, Madelaine.”

  She tried to wrench free, but he tightened his fingers like bands of steel. “I do hope he lives, and if you want to live you need to release me and concentrate on killing whoever wants to kill you.”

  He frowned. “I suppose of the two of you, your accomplice is the bigger threat since you’re not armed.” He gripped her chin. “One false move and I’ll shoot you.”

  She nodded. Finally, he was going to concentrate on protecting himself. Later, she’d allow herself to wallow in the fact that he had no qualms
about shooting her. She sniffed.

  “Stay by my side,” he whispered and moved up the dark stairs. As a board creaked under his weight, Grey bit back a curse and threw his arm out in front of her. He touched the next step with the tip of his boot. When no noise followed, he motioned her forward. At the top, they rounded the corner and followed the glow of light coming from the end of the hall.

  As they crept along, gooseflesh rose on Madelaine’s arms. Without a sound, Grey stopped in front of the door and raised his pistol.

  She gulped back a cry of fear. A man, his face so hideously burned that she recoiled at the sight of the mangled flesh, stood facing the door with one pistol pointed at Grey and another pointed at Grey’s brother’s head. Lord Ashford was bound by rope to a chair, a rag stuffed in his mouth and secured with more rope tied over his parted lips. He immediately bucked in his chair when he saw them. The wood scraped against the hardwood floor, but Lord Ashford’s efforts did him no good. Angry sounds poured from him, impossible to understand because of the gag.

  “You took long enough, Lord Grey.”

  The muscle at the side of Grey’s jaw ticked furiously, but he simply inclined his head. “My apologies. I’m here now to make the trade.”

  “Send Lady Madelaine to me, and then I’ll send you Ashford.”

  A scream of protest rose in Madelaine’s throat. God, how he must hate her.

  “I think not,” Grey replied.

  She had to lock her knees not to crumble with relief.

  The scarred man responded by shoving his pistol hard into Lord Ashford’s temple. Grey’s brother groaned in response. “I’m afraid I’ll have to shoot your brother unless you do what I say.”

  Madelaine watched Grey. His lips move in a silent swear. Why wasn’t he sending her over? Did he truly not want to? Did he still care for her despite what he believed about her?