What A Rogue Wants

by Julie Johnstone

  Rose came toward him and took the sponge. She dropped it in the basin and eyed him with sympathy. “No more for now.”

  “What then?” He tried to focus with his blurry vision.

  “Pray,” Rose said simply. “Ask God to be merciful and bring your woman back to you.”

  As Plumbe and Rose shuffled out of the room, Grey dropped to his knees and prayed. “Please,” he whispered. “Nothing matters but her. I love her.” He squeezed his eyes shut, and swallowed, lest the tears overcome him. But what the bloody hell did it matter if they did? He opened his eyes. Tears trickled down his face. Tears he’d never allowed himself to shed as a boy, or a young man, or even as a man when he’d felt alone. It felt bloody foreign but he cried. For her, he cried. “Take me. Me.”

  The litany continued until his throat was raw, and he couldn’t speak another word. Exhausted, he rose and pressed his head against her chest to hear the steady thump of her heart. Whatever barriers he had once erected, Madelaine had destroyed. He wanted only to love her for the rest of his life.

  HEAT ROLLED ACROSS MADELAINE’S BODY like a raging fire, burning her face, neck, arms, legs, destroying her from the inside out. The merciless heat would not let up. It engulfed her, making her want to scream and come out of her skin.

  Was she asleep or awake? Was this a nightmare or her reality? She could see nothing but rolling waves of brilliant red. The flame called to her, beckoned her to come closer. She tried to resist, but the flames slithered toward her like a stealthy snake and coiled its heat around her ankles to drag her, screaming and thrashing, into the turbulent flames.

  Fire crackled around her, the smell of smoke infusing her nose and lungs. She coughed and her eyes watered but strangely now that she stood in the heat, peace came over her.

  When next she was aware, her skin felt odd, not burning and melting off her bones as it had before, nor mildly warm as it had most recently. She looked around, really looked into the flames, and they parted before her. Eagerly, she walked through the towering wall of red that danced on either side of her some twenty feet up. When she came to the end of the burning tunnel the flames gave way to lush green grass, a brilliant blue sky and the edge of a river bank.

  She knew this river. Scurrying to her knees and then her belly, she leaned over the edge of the embankment and dipped her fingers in the cold water. The coolness made her throat ache. She cupped her hands and drank greedily, handful after handful, of the water, until it dribbled down her chin and she almost choked on her last mouthful. God that felt good! She splashed the water all over her body, crying out at the momentary release from the pain. After a while, she no longer felt the burning, and the thirst in her throat was quenched.

  She flipped onto her back and slid her hands behind her head to stare at the huge, fluffy clouds above her. A bird flew in circles high up in the sky, and if she strained very hard, she could hear the flapping of its powerful wings as it soared. She wanted to fly free like that bird. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished with all her heart, and when she opened them she was hovering in the air, not flying, but looking down at herself lying in a bed with rumpled sheets half over her bare legs.

  She gazed at herself in wonder. She didn’t remember her legs being so pretty. Her skin appeared almost translucent, and if she stared long enough she thought she could make out her bones underneath her skin. Impossible. Her eyes wandered to her face, skin bloodless and shimmering with sweat, her cheekbones protruding. She reached down to run a finger over a sharp cheekbone and smooth back her tangled, matted hair when her eyes suddenly opened.

  Her amber eyes stared back at her with all the understanding of a mother’s love. She reached out, her hand touching the hand of her other self that lay in the bed. “Come,” her other self whispered. “Time to go.”

  She turned hand in hand with the other her to fly away, but a man standing at the foot of the bed caught her attention. His eyes, blue like the sky before a winter storm, looked straight into her soul. She knew him, but couldn’t recall his name, yet her heart squeezed at the sight of him.

  She loved him.

  He squeezed his eyes shut as she stared, his shoulders shaking with a tremor that vibrated the air she floated in. A dark-haired woman moved to stand beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, and the shimmering tears made Madelaine want to cry.

  She didn’t want him to be so sad, so broken. She glanced up at the bright sky calling her then to her right to tell the mirror her to go, but her other self was no longer there. “Stay,” a voice―her mother’s voice―said to her. “I’m proud of you. I love you.”

  Cool tears trailed down Madelaine’s cheek. She glanced once more at the sky, took a deep breath and locked her gaze on the man. She’d stay. He needed her.

  Madelaine slept for long periods, waking briefly when someone would press a drink or broth to her lips or a cold sponge to her body. She hated that sponge! She tried to draw away from it, but hands always gripped her and kept her locked in place.

  Sometimes she would float out of her body, but she didn’t fly again, nor did she see her other self. Mumbling voices spoke near her, but she couldn’t make out what they said. One voice, deep and melodic, started to become clear word by word. Need you. Was the first thing she made out. Then sometime later, a day? A week? One minute ago? Love you. Stay with me. She nodded, her head as heavy as her grandfather’s old steel sword she once tried to lift off the wall where it hung.

  That voice stayed with her all the time, speaking soft words. Sometimes it almost felt as if the words caressed her hands, cheeks and brushed across her lips. There it was again! A brush across her lips. She shivered in response and forced her eyes open.

  Stormy blue eyes stared back at her, widening then filling with tears.

  “Grey?” she croaked, thinking that was his name.

  “Madelaine?” His voice cracked, and his head dropped beside hers. His heavy breathing filled her ear and his warm breath tickled her lobe. “Thank you, God.” His face came back into view and he pressed his lips against hers. This time she knew exactly what that feather-light brush was and her blood stirred to life once again.

  The first couple of days it was all she could do to stay awake long enough to put a string of words together to form a sentence. She would fall asleep in the middle of her comments or listening to someone talk, but whenever she woke, Grey was always there, whispering he loved her and telling her that everything would be all right and asking for forgiveness.

  She wanted to believe everything would be all right, but as her memories returned, fear trickled in and tears began to flow down her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Grey clutched her hand. “Do you feel unwell? Shall I fetch Plumbe?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You keep saying it’s going to be all right, but the last thing I remember is that you hated me and wanted to trade me for your brother’s life. Then I thought…” she averted her eyes, embarrassed, but she had to know. “Then I thought perhaps you really did care, and I couldn’t let you or your brother die to save me.”

  He pressed his head to her chest, his hands coming to either shoulder. “I love you. I was wrong to ever believe you could be part of a plot to kill the king’s spies. I’m so sorry.”

  She shook her head, dismayed at the pain in his voice. “You weren’t wrong to distrust me. I was trying to help my father get the list to the prince. I didn’t see what else I could do. I should have told you. Trusted in you.”

  “I understand why you didn’t. I’ve had time to think about it while you’ve been sick. If my father needed my help to save his life, I would have done everything in my power to save him.” Grey brushed a hand over her hair. “Your loyalty is but one of the reasons I love you, Madelaine. Can you ever forgive me?”

  Forgive him? She reached out and traced her fingers over the stubble on his jaw. He wanted her forgiveness? Her heart exploded with joy. She’d been too afraid to hope. She forced herself to hold his gaz
e. “Do you love me?”

  His gaze opened wide. “Don’t you know?”

  She shook her head. Call her obtuse, but she wanted no misunderstanding between them. He ran his fingers over her collarbone then moved slowly to her lips where he rubbed his thumb back and forth, her heart racing with each delicious sweep of his finger. His hand moved to her neck and gently grasped her there. “So beautiful,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to her neck then trailed kisses back up to her lips. “I love you,” he whispered, before kissing her.

  Her lips parted immediately, their tongues mingling to stroke, explore and reignite the spark that had never died. Heat kindled low in her belly and spread through her limbs until she was panting.

  Grey broke the kiss off slowly and pulled back. He tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear. “I won’t have you getting too worked up until you regain all your strength.” The wicked smile of promise that curled his lips made her heart hammer. She wished nothing else was pressing on her mind, and that she could stare into his eyes the rest of the day, but she had to ask the questions she needed answers to. “What about the king and my father and me? And who was the man in the warehouse? Why did he want to kill you? And me? And―”

  Grey pressed a finger to her lips, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “I’ll answer every question you have but one at a time and while you eat.”

  “Eat?” She wrinkled her brow. She didn’t care about eating at this moment.

  Grey motioned to the doorway and Rose―she recognized the woman from an earlier lucid moment―scurried in with a tray laden with a bowl of steaming soup and a glass of clear water. Madelaine’s stomach growled.

  “Your stomach agrees with me, even if your head doesn’t,” Grey said, taking the tray from Rose and dipping the spoon into the soup. “Open.”

  She complied, but only because she was suddenly famished. As she ate, he spoke about the spy Sutton, and how he’d come to be at the warehouse and wanted to kill the other spies as well as her.

  The truth was horrible. She pressed her lips together. The man had done wicked things but look what had happened to him. He’d been abandoned. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

  “Madelaine?” Grey sounded concerned.

  “Sorry.” She shook her head. “I was just thinking how sad it was.” She took the napkin Grey offered her and patted her mouth.

  “Only you would find a deranged man’s tale sad. Need I remind you, he tried to kill you?”

  “You need not. I bet you feel sorry for him too. You just don’t want to admit it.”

  Grey held her gaze. “I wanted to kill him. But you already had. I hate him for what he did, yet I do feel sorry for him.”

  Madelaine sighed. “Thank you for being honest.”

  “You’re welcome. Anything else?”

  She didn’t particularly want to address the “anything else,” but they couldn’t ignore it. “So now you know for certain neither my father or I were plotting to kill anyone, yet my father stealing the king’s list remains a fact. And it remains a fact that I tried to help him.”

  Grey set the tray on the table beside her bed. “The king knows nothing of your part.”

  She frowned. “Are you not sworn to tell him?”

  Grey nodded. “I am. And I vowed to put him above all else and everyone else as long as I served him as a spy, which is why I can no longer serve him.”

  “What?”

  He took her hands in his. “When you’re well enough, we’ll make our way to Windsor and marry, if you’ll have me?”

  She wanted to nod, but what was his condition? “What is the sacrifice?”

  “Sacrifice?” His brow wrinkled as if she spoke in a foreign tongue.

  She glared at him. “Don’t act as if you don’t know what I’m speaking of. At what price will our marriage take place?”

  He squeezed her hand. “A price I am more than glad to pay.”

  She averted her gaze to their intertwined hands, suddenly fearful of what he was going to do. Something was missing. “Where is your ring?”

  “I no longer wear it.” He held her gaze without blinking.

  “You would turn against your vow for me?” Her body shook with her question.

  “I already have.” Passion laced his words. “I love you. You mean more to me than my honor or my life.”

  “Grey.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. “I cannot allow that. We’ll tell the king what I’ve done and beg his mercy for myself and my father. It can be no other way.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve already told the king you had no knowledge of what your father did. And I told my brother the same thing. I swore you were innocent. If you say otherwise now, you risk my life for lying to the king.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “You’ve trapped me.”

  “Yes.” He did not look the least bit ashamed or repentant. He cupped her face. “I had to. I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “I love you, and I couldn’t risk your demanding to save my honor by risking your own neck.”

  Warm tears slid down her face. No one, not even her father, had ever put her first above all else. She loved Grey with a fierceness that scared her. “What will you do if you’re no longer a spy?”

  He kissed her on the head and then rose. “Perhaps I’ll really try my hand at being an equerry. Or maybe I’ll just spend the rest of my life making sure you’re happy.”

  “Won’t you miss serving the king?”

  “I will.” His tone was grave. “But how can I serve him when I’ve broken my vow to put his concerns above all else?”

  She twisted her hands together at the look of sorrow on Grey’s face. “You did it for me. You won’t break your vow again. I know you won’t. You’re the most honorable man I know.”

  “My sweet, Madelaine.” Grey brushed a hand against her cheek. “I would break my vow again if it meant saving you. And if we are blessed with children, I would break my vow to protect them first as well. No. I can no longer trust myself to keep the vow I gave.”

  She rose up to her knees, her head spinning with the sudden movement. Grey caught her behind her waist and held her against him. Her fingers curled into his side. “Your father surely felt the same way. Surely, he put you and your brother, sister and mother before the king.”

  Grey’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I don’t know if he ever had to make a choice between us and the king.”

  Desperate to make things right for him, Madelaine’s words came out in a rush. “I want to marry you, but I vow I won’t unless you promise me you’ll speak with your brother before you tell the king you no longer wish to be a spy. You don’t have to tell your brother about what I’ve done, though I wish you would. Simply ask him if your father ever had to make hard choices, learn what your father did and then decide your path.”

  After a moment, Grey nodded. “All right. Once we get to Windsor, I’ll speak with my brother. Now rest, if you feel up to it we’ll travel back tomorrow. I don’t want to delay any longer. And I’ve an idea for how we can perhaps convince the king to be lenient toward your father.”

  “Tell me!” Madelaine’s heart thumped wildly against her breast.

  “After you sleep. And not before.”

  TWO DAYS LATER MADELAINE’S STOMACH churned as Grey led her through the corridors of Windsor castle and to his aunt’s apartments. She was to wait with Helen while he went and talked to his brother. She’d been the one to prod him into this action, but now that they were on the course, she was worried. What if Grey’s father had never been in a situation where he had to put his family over his vow?

  She pressed a hand to her queasy stomach. That was silly. Surely he had and Grey would soon learn he could serve the king and be the husband he wanted to be at the same time. Still, she worried now that she’d convinced Grey to talk to his brother, the possibility was there that he could change his mind about marrying her.

  She struggled to silence the annoying voice of doubt as Grey knocked
on his Aunt Helen’s door. When the door opened and Abby stood smiling on the other side, Madelaine stepped into the room and grasped Abby to her. She pressed close to Abby’s ear. “Are you being treated well?”

  Abby nodded. “Lady Helen is wonderfully witty and has been very gracious to me.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Helen chimed coming through the short hall that led to the sitting room.

  Madelaine regarded Helen with an amused smile. “I can see how it is you’ve come by so many castle secrets.”

  Helen patted her hair, which was swept up into a flattering updo. “I do have excellent hearing. And it so happens I’ve recently heard a new bit of salacious gossip.”

  “Are you going to share it?” Madelaine was all too glad for the happy moment. Today may yet end in tragedy if the king refused to listen to Grey’s suggestion regarding her father, so she’d linger in bliss as long as she could.

  Helen grabbed Madelaine by the hands. She blinked at the unexpected contact. “Grey wrote that the two of you are to be married tonight!”

  Madelaine’s jaw dropped open. She forced herself to close it. “Tonight?” Her pulse raced ahead. She wanted to marry Grey, but tonight? She said the first thing that popped into her mind. “We’ve no priest.”

  Grey smiled indulgently at her. “We do. My brother has arranged it and called in a favor to get us a special license.”

  “But you haven’t even spoken to your brother yet,” she said, all too aware that Abby and Helen were looking between her and Grey as they spoke. “What if you change your mind, depending on what he says?”

  “I’ll not change my mind, Madelaine.” He turned to his aunt. “Might I have a private moment?”

  “Hmm?” His aunt looked riveted to her spot.

  Grey sighed, his exasperation unmistakable. “I’d like a moment alone with Madelaine, Aunt. Don’t you and Abby have something you need to do?”

  “Of course,” Helen exclaimed, a blush staining her cheeks. “We can get Madelaine’s flowers and gown ready.”