A Rogue's Surrender: Regency Novellas

by Lauren Smith

  Rose nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “I am going to help out in the kitchen. The cook has agreed to allow me access so I may bake some treats for Lord Aubry. Will you be all right?”

  Rose forced a smile. “He will like that a great deal. Pay no mind to me, I will be fine.”

  The moment Gran disappeared from the room, Rose made her way to the grand foyer, where she retrieved her crimson cloak before slipping out the door. She only agreed to be patient about getting their home back, not about visiting the Devontons.

  How fortuitous she had not yet changed out of the riding habit. She hurried into the stables and requested a horse saddled. The stable boy hardly handed her the reins before she mounted, making haste for London.

  The Devontons had to be fine. Wolfe would not harm them. He would have nothing to gain by doing so.

  Rose’s horse sped up and she blinked, loosening her grip on its sides. She had not even realized she’d been squeezing. Mayhap she should have gone to Hunter, explained her concerns, and shared the letter. He would have checked on the Devontons for her.

  No. After what had happened between them, she could not involve him any deeper. With any luck, she would find the Devontons in need of help with a simple task. Once she helped them she would return to Roselawn with no one being the wiser that she had ever left.

  All manner of unwelcome scenarios raced through her mind. This time she did not stop herself from pushing the horse to a gallop. Wolfe could be stealing their home, too. What if he destroyed their garden and they had no food? Or worse, what if he attacked them?

  She breathed a sigh of relief as she approached their cottage. At least from the outside, all appeared as it should. She slowed, steering the horse into their yard.

  Rose slid from the saddle before securing the horse to a nearby tree. Her imagination had surely gotten the best of her. Gran always told her she had a wild one.

  At the front door, she glanced at the wooded path she used to traverse on her visits and her chest squeezed. It would do her no good to focus on her loss. She rapped on the door.

  “Come in.” Mrs. Devontons voice drifted from inside, welcoming her.

  A trickle of foreboding ran through her. Something in Mrs. Devontons tone seemed off.

  Hand shaking, Rose pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her breath caught. Mrs. Devonton sat next to her husband with red-rimmed eyes. A purple-and-black bruise covered the side of his face. Rose’s heart leapt into her throat as she rushed to their side.

  Mrs. Devonton looked at her, her face marred with sorrow. “Forgive us.”

  “Forgive you? Whatever for?”

  A pair of arms wrapped around Rose, lifting her off the ground. She yelped, thrashing in the air, desperation driving her on.

  “Thought you could escape me, did you?” She kicked harder, but Wolfe only squeezed her tighter.

  Rose fought for breath as he carried her out the back door. “Release me. Put me down, you no-good vile piece of filth.”

  “In due time, my pet.” He thrust her into a carriage and climbed in behind her.

  Before she could get her bearings, Wolfe shoved her face-first into the seat.

  The carriage jolted into motion.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hunter ordered his carriage readied and retired to his office. It would be ready shortly, but it might as well have been a day to wait. After pouring himself a much needed whiskey, Hunter took the decanter with him to his desk. One drink would not be enough to clear his mind. Blast Sinclair for putting such foolish notions in his head. Rose could never be his.

  Sitting back in his chair, he swirled the liquor in the glass before taking a drink. The warmth of it coated his throat and unfurled in his stomach. He closed his eyes to savor the sensation, but a vision of Rose ready to accept his kiss sprang up. She had been so ready and willing. Sitting there beside him cloaked in velvet, green eyes sparkling. He tossed back the rest of the glass, chasing the image away.

  Bloody hell. His hand shook as he poured more of the honey-colored liquor into the glass. Perhaps I will wed her myself. Sinclair’s words made Hunter want to drag him to Gentleman Jack’s and beat him bloody. He was jealous over a woman he could never have. What a fine mess he had gotten himself into.

  Someone rapped on the door, pulling him from his introspection. “Enter.”

  Jewels sauntered in, closing the door behind her. “What is this nonsense I hear about you returning to London?”

  “It is not nonsense. My duties here are completed for the time being. I can be more useful in London.”

  “You are running. Do not deny it. I know you well.” She moved smoothly across the room and leaned against his desk.

  Hunter kept his voice low. “Jewels, you know I have obligations to our family and my title.”

  Undaunted, Jewels drew herself up, and placed her hand on her hip. “I see the way you look at Miss Woodcourt. You are smitten with her.”

  “You, my dear sister, are delusional. I only wish to help her, and I can better accomplish that from London.” His hand tightened around his glass. Damnit. Jewels clearly knew him better than he knew himself. It mattered not. The fact remained: he could not marry Rose.

  Jewels rested both of her gloved hands on his desk and leaned toward him. She looked him squarely in the eye. “You are a fool if you think for one moment you can run away from love.”

  He nearly choked on his whiskey. “Who said anything about love? I may enjoy her company, but that is a far cry from love.”

  Why did everyone keep tossing that dreadful four-letter word at him? Yes. He cared for her. Lusted after her, and enjoyed her company. He did not love her.

  “Then that is it? You are leaving?”

  Her words snapped him from his reverie. He nodded and drained his glass in one long gulp.

  “Rose is a delightful woman. I see it in her as well. She has feelings for you. You will cause her heart to break as surely as you will break your own if you continue to deny your feelings.” She straightened, but her gaze did not leave his. “What are you afraid of?”

  He rubbed a hand across his jaw. Heaven help him. He hated arguing with Jewels. Hated lying to her even more, but what choice did she leave him? “I am not afraid of anything. I simply do not feel that way about Miss Woodcourt.” A lump formed in his throat with the lie. In desperate need of another drink, he reached for the whiskey.

  A fast rapping sounded on the door before either Jewels or he could say more. Pray let this interruption be his valet. He needed to take his leave sooner rather than later.

  When Mrs. Oaklawn stepped into the room, he frowned. Bloody hell. Had she come to scold him about Rose, too? He tugged at the knot of his cravat, which all at once felt tight enough to strangle him. He could not bear much more of the topic.

  “My lord.” She dipped into a curtsy. “I am sorry to interrupt, but I fear Rose may be in danger.” She crossed to the desk holding a piece of stationary out to him. “This letter arrived for her some time ago. I warned her against going. I thought she intended to follow my counsel.”

  Hunter pushed away from his desk, and stood so quickly his chair teetered, losing its balance. With shaking hands, he righted the chair then stepped around his desk to relieve Mrs. Oaklawn of the note. He unfolded it and scanned the contents. His heart skipped a beat.

  “I worry Mr. Wolfe somehow coerced the Devontons into penning it, or that he might otherwise cross paths with her.” The old woman dabbed at her eyes with trembling hands, as she spoke. “There is no telling how long she has been gone.”

  Jewels placed an arm about her shoulders. The older woman leaned against his sister as though she had no strength left.

  “Where do the Devontons reside?”

  “On the other side of the wooded path leading from our cottage.”

  Hunter crumpled the letter in his hand. It was not a long ride…if he hurried. He raced from the room toward the stables, his insides churning. He would kill Wolfe wi
th his own hands if the man harmed one hair on Rose’s head.

  Rose struggled against Wolfe’s grip, but her struggles only made him tighten his hold. Her breathing came in rough gulps as he pinned her against the seat. She twisted and kicked.

  He jerked her upright, trapping her against him with his arms. The carriage swayed and bobbed over ruts in the road as he pinned her in place.

  “Where are you taking me?” Perhaps if she stayed still, he would let his guard down. If so, she could seize the moment to escape. She would rather toss her body from the moving carriage than allow him to take her anywhere.

  “Scotland, my pet.”

  The carriage swayed again, bumping her against him. “Whatever for? Surely you do not have designs on Gretna Green. I will never marry you.”

  He turned her to face him. “Oh, but you will. And furthermore, you will learn obedience.” His fingers dug into her shoulders, his smile menacing.

  She stiffened her spine. “Never. You have taken me against my will, assaulted the Devontons, and done God only knows what else. Lord Aubry shall find me and see you taken to Newgate for your--umph.”

  He tangled his meaty hand in her chignon, roughly tugging her head toward him.

  Before Rose could turn away, his lips crushed down on hers. Bile rose in her throat. She tried to pull away, but to no avail. When he failed to relent, she parted her lips enough to trap one of his between her teeth before biting down as hard as she could.

  “You little bitch!” Wolfe swiped his handkerchief at his bloodied lip. “I will teach you how to obey me as my wife.”

  Rose dove for the carriage door, shoving it with all her might. It did not budge. Panic filled her. She drew up her legs and kicked the stubborn exit with all her might. Nothing happened.

  A peal of sadistic laughter filled the space. “Do you honestly think me a fool? It is secured from the outside. His hands seized the back of her dress, rending the neckline.

  She jerked free of his grip, tossing her whole body against the door. Pain emanated through her shoulder, but the door still did not budge. Exhausted, she slumped against the carriage wall. “I may be trapped for now, but at some point, we have to leave the carriage. When we do, you will be unable to restrain me.”

  “We shall see about that, my pet.” He leaned back against the leather seat, an amused grin pulling at his lips.

  “I would rather die than hitch myself to you. You are a vile creature, unfit to rub my feet.”

  His face flushed, proving her words struck a nerve.

  “Lord Aubry is ten times the man you are. He will rescue me, and once you have been carted off to prison, I will marry him.”

  His hand slammed across her cheek. The crack of flesh upon flesh filled the carriage. Her cheek burned as if she had stuck her head in a cooking fire. He loomed over her.

  “See what you have made me do? I try so hard to treat you with kindness and you repay me with disrespect.” He pulled her up and planted her beside him on the carriage bench. “I will not tolerate much more of this disobedience.”

  “In that case, I suggest you release me this instant. I will never show you anything pleasant, let alone affection. You will never have my respect.” She drew in a breath in preparation for his next blow.

  “Perhaps a bit of incentive may help.” He released her, but a smug, self-assured smirk split his cold face.

  His look chilled her. She scrambled to the opposite bench.

  “Should you continue down this path, I will see to it your wish is realized. I suggest you calm your vile tongue, lest you wind up like your parents.”

  Rose’s pulse jumped. Her parents? “You killed them.” Her body tensed.

  He chuckled. “Come now, pet. There is no need to cast aspersions. Your father earned his tragic demise.”

  Her mind spun with questions she did not want to hear answers to. Still, she had to know. She clenched her fists at her side. “Why?”

  He crossed his legs and leaned back, leveling his lecherous gaze on her. “He tried to end our betrothal.”

  “So you murdered him?” A rage like she had never experienced gripped her.

  “I merely arranged for him to have an accident. I never touched him.”

  His words seared her soul. She wanted to leap across the carriage and strangle him. She needed to bide her time. Clenching her teeth, she managed, “Go to the devil.”

  He smirked. “Your father came to me the day before his accident. He rescinded his blessing and told me he was going to sway you to beg off. You belong to me. I could not let him take you away.”

  “I belong to no man, least of all you.” The carriage took a sharp turn, banging her head against the interior wall. The pain spiraled through her skull.

  Rose swallowed the lump in her throat. She wished she could believe Hunter was in pursuit and would rescue her. But she knew better than to stake her hopes on an uncertainty. How could he even know where she was, or what had happened to her?

  She had to take responsibility for her own saving. The carriage jerked to a stop. She pulled her attention back to her surroundings.

  “I do not know about you, but I am famished. We will take a short reprieve from the carriage to break our fast. I expect you to behave.”

  She smiled sweetly. As soon as the door opened, she would make a run for it. Even if he caught her, it would be too late. For surely at an eating establishment, there would be witnesses.

  “Just in case you are planning to cause a scene, you should know I have a man watching your precious Gran. She will experience a tragic accident if you try anything foolish.”

  Her heart sank. He might be bluffing, but could she take the chance?

  “The Devontons and Lord Aubry are also counting on you.”

  Would he have risked stopping in the first place if he feared they were being followed? No, she did not believe his words an idle threat.

  Now what? She could not risk the lives of her loved ones, nor could she marry the vile man before her. There was but one choice. She nodded before bowing her head, defeated. “Yes, Mr. Wolfe.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hunter pulled rein in front of the Devonton’s house and threw himself from the saddle. He tethered his horse to a nearby tree before taking the small front steps in one fluid movement to thump on the door. Rose’s mount was tethered near his. Pray, let her be here.

  The door creaked open. A weathered old man stuck his head out, his face marred by an angry purple bruise. Hunter’s heart contracted. “I have come for Miss Woodcourt.”

  “I cannot help you, my lord.” The elderly man slammed the door.

  What the bloody hell? No one had ever shut a door in his face. He pounded on the door again. “I must speak with her right away. It is imperative. Rose, if you are in there, make your presence known.”

  “Let the gentleman in,” a woman said from within. “He clearly cares for her.”

  The door creaked open once again and the old man stepped aside.

  “Hurry,” the woman called out.

  Hunter stepped into the small space. The door squeaked shut behind him. He glanced about. “Where is Miss Woodcourt?”

  The elderly woman met his gaze, her eyes brimming with tears. “I fear if we tell you anything, it will cost us dearly.”

  The man, her husband perhaps, went to her side, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “I am sorry. We want to help, but I am not sure we can.”

  Hunter noted the fear in his eyes. He had thought to offer them money to loosen their tongues. Now he knew it would not be enough. “I can offer you protection.”

  The woman’s eyes lit with hope before she looked to her husband, who gave her a nod.

  “Please, tell me where she has gone.”

  “Mr. Wolfe took her.” The woman’s voice shook and a tear slid down her cheek. “He made me write that note. Then he took her.”

  Hunter stalked to the couple, his stomach churning. “Took her where?”

  The man squee
zed his wife’s shoulder. “He did not say. Though he did ramble something about marriage and Scotland.”

  “How long ago did he depart with her?”

  “Two, maybe three hours past.”

  A fist pounded on the door and the couple jumped. Hunter spun and strode to answer it.

  “Please do not. You must hide.” The woman’s voice broke. “It could be one of Mr. Wolfe’s men.”

  If so, Hunter would deal with him. Perhaps he would get more answers as to Rose’s whereabouts.

  “Trust me.” He tossed what he hoped was a comforting glance over his shoulder before pulling the door open, ready to strike.

  Sinclair stepped into the cottage. “I came as soon as Julia showed me the letter.”

  “All is well.” Hunter gave the couple a nod. They huddled together on the settee. “Lord Sinclair is a close friend. He has been aiding me with Rose’s situation.”

  The couple smiled, but lines of worry still marred their faces. “I must go after Wolfe and Rose. Lord Sinclair will take care of you.” Hunter moved to the door. “Sinclair.”

  “Yes.”

  “See them moved into the cottage at Roselawn right away. Do not leave them alone until they are safely settled in at my estate.”

  Sinclair nodded just before Hunter darted out the door. Grabbing his horse’s reins, he swung himself onto the saddle. There was no time to lose. He sucked in his breath and kicked his horse into a gallop.

  They could be miles ahead of him by now. His only hope of catching Wolfe was if the dastardly man was in a carriage.

  Rose sat across from Wolfe in the dark, stuffy room. He had brought her into an old rundown establishment off the main road. A scarred oak table separated them as he ate his stew and drank his ale.

  She fixed her gaze on a faded painting hanging over the bar. Everything in her screamed, telling her to run. His threats slashed at her thoughts. If she tried anything the people she loved may well pay a penance for her actions. Still, there had to be a way to save herself without them being harmed.