A Perfect Secret (Rogue Hearts)

by Hatch, Donna

  Christian stared at the savagery in Grant’s tone. But he agreed. Labored breathing behind him caught his attention and he turned to Genevieve.

  Clutching her chest as if her heart pained her, she met his gaze with wide, horrified eyes. A second later, she turned to her parents. “Mama ...?”

  Mrs. Marshall, tied to a chair, averted her gaze from Wickburgh’s prostrate form and looked at her husband who was slowly pushing himself to a seated position on the floor. Christian tucked his guns away, offered Captain Marshall a hand, and pulled him to a stand.

  Genevieve stumbled to her mother. “Mama?”

  Mrs. Marshall smiled gently. “I’m unharmed, dearest.”

  Genevieve let out a sob. “I thought you were having a heart attack.”

  Her mother smiled. “Yes, well, I thought perhaps you and your father needed a diversion so you could finish breaking free. And buying myself a bit more time could be beneficial as well.”

  Genevieve smiled wanly and shook her head. “You scared me. But that was good thinking.” She retrieved the knife from the floor and cut her mother’s ropes.

  Captain Marshall pulled Mrs. Marshall into his arms and held her. Genevieve gave them a searching gaze as if to reassure herself they were well. They wrapped their arms around her as well and all three of them enjoyed a family embrace. They were safe. At last, they were free from Wickburgh’s threats. And Genevieve was free.

  Christian stood alone, strangely disjointed and out of place. Remembering Jackson, he moved to the Runner and felt for a pulse. When he found one, he let out his breath in relief. A dark stain spread from Jackson’s shoulder down his arm.

  Jackson moaned and squinted up at him. “I guess I’m not dead.” He spoke with the strong tones of a fighter, not the weak rattle of a man moments from death.

  Elated his injuries didn’t appear serious, Christian grinned. “No, just a teeny tiny hole in your shoulder.”

  As Jackson turned his head, he hissed in his breath. “What did you do, hit me while I was unconscious?”

  Someone let out his breath in disgust. “Ah! I knew I’d miss all the fun!” Cole strode in and looked around. His eyes fell on Wickburgh and his lip curled in disgust. “Messy, that.”

  Christian made no attempt to reply as he gently probed Jackson’s head. Jackson gritted his teeth and grunted when Christian’s fingers found a sizable bump. “I think you hit your head when you fell. Probably what knocked you out.”

  Jackson sat up, wincing and holding his shoulder. He was pale, but not deathly gray.

  Christian eyed him in concern. “Perhaps you should lie back down.”

  Jackson waved him off. “I’m fine. Don’t coddle.”

  Christian stood and glanced at Genevieve to reassure himself she was well.

  Pulling away from her parents, she looked into Christian’s eyes somberly. Then her lips curved upward. “You really are my white knight.” She ran to him then and threw herself against him. He wrapped her up tight and closed his eyes. She was safe. Safe at last.

  Holding her tiny body close, he buried his face into her hair. “I fear my armor is a bit tarnished, but if you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

  “You don’t have to be perfect to be a good man.”

  Perhaps not. For the first time in years, he felt truly worthy of love.

  CHAPTER 31

  Genevieve nestled against Christian, safe within the circle of his arms, as he guided their horse on which they rode double. His strong and steady heartbeat drummed a soothing cadence. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her temple. Wickburgh’s violence against her and her family, not to mention witnessing his death, threw her into a state of numb disbelief. By the time the magistrate and coroners had finished and they were all free to go, shock faded, leaving only quiet sorrow. Christian’s comforting presence wrapped her in comfort and safety. She wondered if she’d ever forget the murderous light in Wickburgh’s eyes, his madness, his brutality. The image of him lying lifeless on the floor of the cottage played over and over in her mind.

  She shivered. Christian stroked her hair, kissed the side of her head, and simply held her. He’d been quiet all evening, merely touching her gently, offering her his strength. Pure love for Christian enfolded her in its sweet embrace but the residual horror of the day tainted her joy.

  Behind them, her parents’ voices, subdued from the day’s terrifying events, mingled with Jared’s and Cole’s. Grant rode beside Christian silently, his dark presence no longer frightening. Jackson, barely upright in the saddle, seldom spoke.

  “Please stay for the night,” Mama said for the second time. “It’s late and you’re all fatigued.”

  “Quite right,” Papa added. “And you need rest, Mr. Jackson.”

  “I don’t wish to impose, sir,” said Jackson, but his voice was strained. “Besides, the surgeon patched me up well enough. I’ll be all right.”

  Mama made a tsking sound. “After the way you came to our aid, the least we can do is offer you our hospitality while you recover from your injuries.”

  “Nasty business, gunshot wounds,” Papa added.

  “You may as well accept,” Genevieve said, her voice strangely hollow in her own ears despite her attempt at a light-hearted tone. “Or they’ll hound you all the way back to the manor.”

  “Perhaps we should accept,” Cole said. “It’s dark and highwaymen might be about.”

  Jared scoffed. “They’d best fear us.”

  Grant’s voice floated back to them in the still, night air. “We need to retrieve the carriage.”

  “The innkeeper wasn’t happy about that arrangement,” Cole added with an unrepentant grin.

  In the end, they agreed to stay with Genevieve’s parents. After reclaiming the carriage and offering the innkeeper enough coin to pacify him, they arrived cold and exhausted at the Marshall family manor.

  “Bring food at once and prepare guest rooms for each of our rescuers,” Mama ordered. “None of these brave men sleep in the servant’s quarters.”

  The housekeeper laid out a cold meal fit for a small army. Christian, as usual, tucked into the feast as if he hadn’t eaten in days, and the other men ate with equally hearty appetites. Too overwhelmed by the day’s events, Genevieve only picked at her food.

  Afterward, they collapsed onto various chairs and settees in the family sitting room. Genevieve curled up next to Christian, tucking her legs underneath her body and nestling against his side. He wrapped his arms around her, leaned his head back against the back of the settee, and closed his eyes but his breathing remained light and the pressure of his arms stayed strong. She looked forward to sleeping in his arms like this every night. Soon. Very soon—as soon as the furor over Wickburgh’s death died down and society wouldn’t view her wedding as scandalously close to her husband’s death. If it were her choice, she’d abduct Christian and run off to Gretna Green this instant. But she didn’t wish to bring more discomfort to the Amesbury family. They’d already done so much for her. The least she could do was marry their brother properly.

  Jackson, sprawled against the cushions of a settee with one hand holding his shoulder where he’d been shot, suddenly raised his head. “Did you find my ring on the road?”

  Jared took the ring off his finger and handed it over. “Good clue.”

  With an audible sigh of relief, Jackson slid the ring on his finger and let his head fall back against the settee.

  Mama’s shoulders drooped and she blinked her eyes slowly as if she could hardly keep them open. Cole yawned, and Jared rubbed his eyes. Only Grant and the other Runner remained watchful and unmoved.

  “Mama, go to bed,” Genevieve said. “I’ll see to our guests.”

  Mama nodded without argument and arose. “Good night. I trust you’ll be made comfortable.”

  Genevieve stood and hugged her, leaning into her mother’s long-absent embrace. She’d only been allowed to see her mother once in the year she’d been married to Wickburgh, and it had been a p
ainfully short visit. She looked forward to spending more time with her parents even after she married Christian.

  “I love you, Mama,” she whispered. “You were so brave today.”

  Mama let out a tired snort. “If you’d all stop coddling me, you’d see I’m not the delicate flower you all seem to think I am.”

  Genevieve smiled. “Yes, Mama.”

  Mama squeezed Genevieve tightly. “I love you, too, dearest.” She turned to Papa. “Coming, dear?”

  “In a moment, love. I’d like to speak to Genevieve and Mr. Amesbury.”

  The housekeeper came in. “All the guest rooms are prepared.”

  Jackson stood, but swayed. Grant leaped to his side in a flash and supported him as they walked out behind the housekeeper.

  Cole looked at Jared and arched an eyebrow. “Think our wives will worry if we don’t come back tonight?”

  Jared shook his head. “Elise isn’t a worrier. She’ll assume I’m out enjoying some lark with my brothers. She’ll keep Alicia company.”

  Jared clapped Christian on the shoulder. “That was good fun. Let me know when you plan the next coup.”

  Christian opened one eye and grunted at him. Cole grinned and Jared chuckled. Genevieve smiled at the brotherly affection between them, loving them for Christian’s sake and for the way they’d all come together to help him. To help her. To help her parents.

  Cole sobered. “Well done, Chris.”

  Jared nodded, his grin lighting his sea-green eyes. “Maybe I should have brought you on my ship, after all. I could have used someone with your cool head and fighting skills. You would have made a first-rate pirate.”

  Christian opened his eyes and raised his head. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but merely nodded, looking a bit dazed. Cole gave him another searching look and smiled. Abruptly, he turned on his heel. He and Jared left together.

  Christian let out his breath and rubbed his face. “Strange, after all these years, that their opinion still matters so much.”

  “Of course it does. They’re your family.” She squeezed his arm.

  Christian put a hand over hers and slid forward to the edge of his seat, eyeing Papa. “Sir. I’m sure you have concerns about your daughter and me.”

  “No, son. I am not here to interrogate you about your relationship with her or even your intentions. I gave up that right when I stood by and allowed her to pay the price for my crime.”

  “Papa.” Genevieve crossed the room and sat next to him. Though she’d secretly harbored the very same thoughts, hearing him expressed them in such self-loathing softened her heart. “Don’t go on so.”

  Papa shook his head. “I should have confessed my crime years ago and faced the consequences. I should have never allowed Wickburgh to rob me of my own daughter. Genevieve paid dearly, and so did you when you lost her.”

  Christian opened his mouth but Papa held out a hand. “Hear me out. My only defense was my reluctance to implicate my shipmates. Later, I kept silent for fear of hurting my wife if I confessed. Instead, I hurt my daughter. And I hurt you. I can never make restitution. There is no taking back any of it.” He stopped and swallowed.

  Genevieve kept silent to allow him to express all the thoughts and feelings of his burdened heart. Tears stung her eyes. What a terrible load he’d carried! No one deserved that kind of torment.

  Papa turned anguished eyes on her. “I haven’t shown it, but I dearly love you, child. And I hope you will find all the love and peace and joy you so richly deserve.” He hung his head a moment. “I only hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me someday—not because I deserve it, but because I’ve seen how the cancer of un-forgiveness grows and destroys.”

  “Of course I forgive you, Papa.” She touched his arm and squeezed it.

  Christian asked. “What exactly happened, sir—on the ship?”

  Papa’s eyes glazed over as if reliving the past. “The captain was a monster. He’d taken cruelty to a whole new low. He’d already flogged to death several men, and the crew were on half rations despite land being only a few days away. But he refused to go ashore to replenish our stores.”

  Genevieve stared, shocked to hear of such a thing happening in the Royal Navy.

  Christian nodded. “My brother Cole had a similar experience on his first vessel. Go on.”

  “When the first lieutenant tried to reason with him, the captain threw him into the brig and threatened to court marshal him for insubordination.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Then he ordered us into battle when our ship was still damaged and we were clearly outgunned. The men started an uprising. I looked the other way while they killed the captain. When it was over, I released the first lieutenant who assumed command.” He clenched and unclenched his hands.

  “How old were you then?” Christian asked quietly.

  “Seventeen.”

  Genevieve pictured her father, so young to make such difficult decisions. Tears burned her eyes that he’d faced such a terrible choice.

  Papa continued, “We lied about the captain’s death to the admiralty. The crew vowed to remain silent. Except, apparently, Seton—Wickburgh’s brother. I’m sure he felt he needed to confess if he were dying. I probably would, too. I wish that I had confessed. I wish I hadn’t put you both through all of that.”

  “Papa.” Genevieve knelt in front of him. “I love you. I made my choices freely and I made them to help you and Mama. I do forgive you. I have no regrets.” She wrapped her arms around him. Speaking those words healed over the raw wounds in her heart. Long harbored, unacknowledged resentment fell away like old scales. Years of sadness, even blame, were cleansed.

  At first, Papa sat utterly still. Then his arms went around her and he crushed her against him. “My little one,” he murmured. He kissed the top of her head. Then his shoulders began to shake. “I’m so sorry, child.”

  “Shhhh. It’s over. It’s all over. Now, all I need from you and Mama is to live long lives and spoil your grandchildren.”

  His tears dissolved into laughter. He pulled back and looked searchingly at her. Then glanced at Christian who stood nearby. “Is that a wedding announcement?”

  Genevieve smiled. “Not officially, but I hope one will be coming soon.” She looked up at Christian but his face was solemn.

  “Sir.” Christian took another step nearer. “We’ve all done things we regret. It is not my place to offer forgiveness. Just know that I bear you no ill will.” He held out a hand.

  They shook formally. Christian’s gaze slid Genevieve’s way briefly before he returned his focus to Papa. “I vow I will spend my life doing everything I can to make Genevieve happy. I’m only a youngest son, but I have lucrative investments—”

  “Don’t mention it, son. You’ve more than earned my respect. Neither you nor she needs my permission, young man. But if you want my blessing; you have it, most wholeheartedly. Be happy. Both of you.”

  Christian smiled. He turned to Genevieve and took a shuddering breath. “I bid you both a good night.”

  She took his arm. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  Walking arm in arm, they mounted the steps and she led him to the guest wing opposite the family wing. The housekeeper passed them coming the other direction.

  “The blue room?” Genevieve asked.

  The housekeeper nodded and hesitated. “Shall I—”

  “I’ll show him in.” Genevieve led him to the door of the bedroom and paused on the threshold. “I still can’t believe it’s over.”

  He touched her face, lightly tracing spirals and lines across her bruised face. “Are you in pain?”

  “It’s not so bad.” She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

  “Is it really over?”

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Why wouldn’t it be? The magistrate said there wouldn’t be any legal action taken against you and Grant, not even a hearing.” She paused, still uncertain whose bullet had actually delivered the killing blow. Not tha
t it mattered. They’d both fired. And it was clear Wickburgh meant to kill them all. “What troubles you?”

  “You said there was a letter in Wickburgh’s possession.”

  She nodded. “Yes. As we agreed, he let me hold the letter during the ceremony. Then when the wedding was final, I burned it.”

  Christian stared. “He let you burn it?”

  “He promised me before I married him that I could. He was a cunning and cold man, but he always kept his word. Always.” She shivered, pushing against the recollection of a few of the terrifying times Wickburgh had made her a horrifying promise and kept it.

  “Could anyone else know of it? Family? Close friends?”

  “He does—er, did—have another brother, but he has been abroad for years. He knows nothing about the letter or the reason I married Wickburgh.” She shoved all those memories into a dark room and slammed the door shut. They had no place in her life, now. Only her family mattered. And Christian.

  Christian touched her cheek. “I know you need time to heal from all of this madness. I will try to be patient and give you all the time you need.”

  She rested her hand against his cheek, the slight scrape of his one-day’s growth rough against her palm. “I love you.”

  He let out his breath in a great exhale. “I don’t think I’ll ever grow accustomed to hearing that.

  She lifted her face up to him and slid her hand behind his neck in a clear invitation. Gazing at her with love in his eyes, he lowered his head and kissed her slowly, powerfully, with contained passion. Despite his gentleness, heat exploded from his touch and his exploration of her mouth turned hungry. She gave herself to his mouth, glorying in the privilege of finally touching him, kissing him, without any barriers between them. She leaned into him as years of loneliness and heartache melted away until they were alone in the world, no past, no sorrow, only love. When they were both breathless and aching, he cupped her cheek and ended the kiss.

  Christian audibly swallowed. “I’d best go now before I ravish you right here and now.”

  She smiled, her body tingling in places she’d thought long dead. “I don’t think it’s considered ravishment if we’re both willing.”