He couldn’t tell Isabelle the truth—that when he’d returned the second time to his father’s estate, he’d caught the old man killing another nobleman. Marcus couldn’t believe the monster his father had turned into. Agony filled Marcus, reminding him what pain he’d suffered as a boy since he was never good enough. In the earl’s eyes, Marcus’ twin, Matthew, had always been the cherished one.
Marcus had suffered even more at the age of eighteen. His father knew Marcus had witnessed the murder and so tried to poison his own son. The so-called nobleman had poured something in Marcus’ tea that afternoon, not realizing Marcus could see what he did through the mirror on the wall. When his father wasn’t looking, Marcus dumped the tea in a nearby potted plant then left the estate, vowing never to return. More than likely, his father must have realized he’d killed his son. Hurt and anger had made Marcus change his last name from Winston to his grandmother’s name, Thorne.
Marcus couldn’t allow Isabelle to see what he still suffered when thinking about his past. “From then on,” he continued the story, “I knew I had to make my own way in life without the influence of my so-called noble father.”
Isabelle’s chair scratched the floor before soft footsteps came his way. He stood and turned. She stopped in front of him. Droopy eyes and her lips pulled into a frown tugged at his heartstrings. When she laid her hand on his chest, he nearly groaned with the pleasure it brought.
“Forgive me for making you relive such terrible memories. I shan’t do it again.”
He slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her closer. She sucked in a breath, her eyes turning a dark blue.
“No need to apologize, my dove. They were bad memories, and I’d like to leave them in the past where they belong.”
She nodded. “I understand fully.”
Of course she did. That was probably the reason he felt connected to her. As much as he fought the unknown emotion budding in his chest, he had to admit, he enjoyed the way she looked at him. So much better than when she’d hated him.
He cupped her chin and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. He wanted to kiss her badly, but he couldn’t. If he got started, he might not want to stop. Ever.
“Isabelle? Why are you doing this?”
She licked her lips. “Doing what?”
“You’re too curious for your own good, and not only that, you care too much about things that shouldn’t concern you.”
She gave him a lazy smile as she lowered her eyelids half-mast. “Captain? Are you worried I have started to like you?”
He chuckled. “Mayhap a little.” He glanced at her luscious mouth. “Why? Do you?”
“Mayhap a little.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.
He moved his hand from her chin and cupped her head, bringing her closer to his mouth. “Perhaps you shouldn’t, my dear. Highwaymen have a bad reputation, or have you not heard?”
“I’ve heard. But I think your bark is worse than your bite.”
And speaking of biting… He would love nothing better than to nibble on her neck. “What if I’m pretending?”
“I think not, Captain. You’ve had plenty of chances to prove otherwise, but you’re not mean and cruel as rumors have dictated.”
Why wasn’t he? Having Isabelle as his prisoner definitely made him do things he’d never done before. He fought the urge to kiss her all the while staring at her parted lips. Her hand slid up his chest and hooked around his neck as she leaned into him. Cussing under his breath, he allowed her mouth to cover his, but still he struggled with his emotions. When gentle lips slid over his, he nearly came apart.
Growling, he wrapped her tight in his arms and answered her with demanding kisses. He wanted her in the worst way, but she wasn’t like the doxies he was used to seducing. Isabelle was a true lady, and he couldn’t ruin that for her fiancé, no matter how badly Marcus wanted to.
He pushed her away and stepped toward his bed. When he kissed her, he didn’t feel like he was in control. Captain Hawk wasn’t like that. What kind of spell had she cast over him to make him so weak?
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he raked his hands through his hair, careful not to move his mask. Confusion swam in his head.
“Captain?” She stood between his opened knees and stroked his hair. “Did I do something wrong?”
He lifted his head to look at her. “Nothing is wrong, my dove.” Shaking his head, he grabbed her waist to move her away. She grasped his hands and stood still. Stubborn woman. “Isabelle, do you have any idea what will happen to you if you don’t move away from me?”
She twirled a lock of his hair around her finger. “I’m not worried, Hawk. I trust you.”
Those three little words melted his heart, and he groaned. “You shouldn’t, my dear.”
“Why did you stop kissing me?” she asked.
His heart leapt to his throat. “Why? Do you want me to continue?”
Slowly the corners of her mouth tugged upward. “Will you hate me if I confess to enjoying the way you kiss me?”
She shouldn’t have told him that. “No. Hate is the emotion that doesn’t come to mind.”
Isabelle stepped closer and cupped the side of his face. “What emotion comes to mind, then?”
He knew she’d ask that, but he also knew he could not let her know the answer. So, instead of lying to her, he tugged her arms until she fell into his lap then captured her mouth for another kiss.
Sighing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and answered back with great urgency. Never in his life had he enjoyed kissing a woman as much as he did this one. Once again, the feeling of losing control washed over him, and he cursed his weakness.
He broke the kiss, shaking his head. “Isabelle, you cannot kiss a man like that without him wanting more.” He caressed her cheek. “I’m a highwayman or have you forgotten?”
“I have not.”
“Then I suggest you return to your room before something dreadful happens between us that I can never undo.”
“If you wish,” she whispered brokenly.
“Very much so, my dear.”
With a frown, she rose from his lap and walked to the door. When the door closed behind her, he released a relived sigh and lay back on the bed. Under no circumstances could he let that happen again.
Indeed, the next few days until he returned her to New York were going to be hell.
Chapter Eight
Isabelle couldn’t stop the smile stretching her mouth. Slowly, she was making Hawk fall in love with her. She knew it by his darkened eyes and by his lazy smile. She also knew it by his kind words and gentle touch. Before he released her as his prisoner, she must make him realize how he couldn’t live without her, because she for certainly couldn’t bear life without him.
She’d dressed in one of her own gowns today since she’d be working around the house. Hawk had finally left his room to take over as the highwaymen’s leader, and his slow movements let her know she should keep an eye on him and see that he didn’t overdo it today. Outside, he bellowed orders and made certain everything ran smoothly. His men were building something in the yard, and the scraps of wood they used looked like that from the stagecoach they’d robbed.
Hawk had replaced his silk mask with the darker version she’d seen him wear on that first day. This one she didn’t like only because it made his eyes black, instead of the gray color she knew them to be.
Hawk stood tall as he watched his men. He was the most impressive man she’d been privileged to meet. His shoulders filled the white billowy shirt, just as his black breeches fit his muscular thighs so well. A leather strap secured the bulk of hair pulled away from his face, and her fingers still experienced the silkiness of his strands when she had stroked his hair before.
When he turned and looked her way, her heart leapt and she smiled. He smiled and motioned for her to join him. Enthusiasm bubbled in her chest with each step she took toward him. Being by his side was what she craved more than anything. As she climbed the
few stairs of the porch, he grasped her hand and finished hauling her up and slipped his arm around her waist.
“Are you enjoying this afternoon outside?” he asked.
“Indeed, I am. And what of yourself? Do you feel strong enough to be out here?”
“I’m feeling better every day, thanks to your care.”
His compliment brought heat to her cheeks. She looked away from him and toward his men. “What are they building?”
“A small boat.”
She swung her gaze back to him and stared with wide eyes. “Why a boat?”
“The stagecoaches we attack are torn apart and rebuilt into something we can sell for a profit. We’re labeled thieves, but in reality, the only thing we steal of worth are the stagecoaches.”
“That’s very impressive.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, enjoying the way she felt in his strong arms. “Is this where you live when you are not a highwayman?”
“No. I have a different life. Although living here away from the world can sometimes be like heaven, all of us are different people in town.”
Sighing, she smiled, knowing he was gradually trusting her. It was a fantasy, to be sure, but one she would only want to experience with him. No other man would do. “It would be a dream come true to live here without a care in the world.”
They stood in silence for a few minutes. A light wind stirred her locks as Hawk stroked her hair. Isabelle could become attached to this kind of life very easily. If only Hawk would allow it. Would he release her one day, or ask her to remain by his side forever? Monkey had told her how Hawk usually didn’t take an interest in women after he took them prisoner. She could only pray that meant Hawk was very interested in her.
Isabelle lifted her head just as he looked down into her eyes. She cupped his face, loving the way his soft facial hair caressed her palm.
“What are you thinking, my dove?” He grinned.
She chuckled. “Only improper thoughts.”
He laughed and gathered her close. “My dear, Isabelle. I haven’t been a good influence, have I?”
“Absolutely not.” She trailed her fingers over his lips. “But I’m not complaining.”
“Splendid.” He dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her briefly. “I’d hate to think my time was wasted with a pupil who couldn’t learn.”
She wound her arms around him, caressing his muscular back. “Oh, I’m an apt student, I assure you. Whatever you want to teach, I’m most eager to learn.” She motioned her head toward the men. “And you can start with teaching me about what you do here. I would love to learn what motivates you to do what you do.”
He growled and tightened his hold on her. “You drive a hard bargain. But I fear if you stay beside me, you shall be completely bored.” He cupped her face. “That’s the last thing I want—for you to become bored with me.”
She shook her head. “You are wrong, Captain. You are a very fascinating man and I would love to learn all I can.”
“As it is, I think you should find something to keep yourself occupied until the evening meal. I have a lot to do, and I must stay focused.”
Frowning, she shrugged. “If you insist.”
“I do.” He faced her away from him and swatted her behind, making her giggle.
“I suppose I can venture to the kitchen to see if your cook needs any help.”
“Brilliant idea.”
Although she didn’t want to leave, she understood perfectly about how one could be distracted. Hawk distracted her in the worst way, too. But she enjoyed it. She wanted to create ways to make their time together better, more meaningful. She’d try her hardest to make him want to keep her instead of sending her to New York.
When she entered the kitchen, the cook stood by a stove as he stirred a boiling pot. Between his teeth, he’d clamped a cheroot as he hummed a lively tune. When his gaze met her, the music stopped, and he pulled out his cheroot.
“Blimey! What do we have here?”
She smiled. “Good afternoon. I thought I’d see if you needed any help here in the kitchen.”
“Why would ye want to know that?”
“Because I need something to do.”
“Where’s the captain?”
“He has returned to his duties, and doesn’t need me as much anymore.”
“Ah, I see.” He winked. “I suppose if ye’d like to help, I have some potatoes needin’ to be peeled.”
“Wonderful.” She rubbed her hands together.
He led the way to another table and handed her the knife. “The potatoes are in that bag.” He arched a brow. “Do I have to watch my back now?”
“Whatever for?”
“Ye’re holdin’ a knife.”
She chuckled. “I assure you, I’ll not use it in that manner. I do know how to peel potatoes.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “In that case, I’ll not bother ye.”
She settled upon a stool as she proceeded to take each potato and cut off the skins. The cook still kept an eye on her, but that was to be expected, she supposed. “Sir? What’s your name?”
“David.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Miss Stanhope.”
He nodded then turned back to his pot. She wished he would talk more. How could two people occupy the same space without conversing? It didn’t matter if men could do it, the silence would drive her insane. “So, David, how long have you been with Captain Hawk?”
“Why do ye want to know?”
“Just curious. I want to know the Captain better. Is that a crime?”
David stopped stirring and scratched his chin. “I’ve noticed ye makin’ doe eyes at the him lately.”
A blush heated her face. Was it that obvious? “I’m quite enjoying his company—”
He laughed. “I can also see the Captain has taken an interested in yer company, too.”
When her smile widened, she concentrated on the potato, hoping not to look as if his comment brightened her day. “Thank you, David. That’s good to know.”
“But don’t ye be gettin’ any ideas.” He shook his finger at her and scowled.
“Beg pardon? What ideas?”
“I know women like yerself, wantin’ to snare the captain into marriage. I’m tellin’ ya now, that’s not gonna happen.”
She set the knife down and met the man’s narrowing stare. “You don’t believe in love?”
“Blah. Love is for fools, and Captain Hawk is certainly no fool. He’s had plenty of women, but none have been able to turn his heart, and none ever will.”
Isabelle’s heart wrenched, and she tried not to let David upset her. She had to believe Hawk would fall in love with her. She must be someone special to him or else he wouldn’t have kept her close. Wasn’t that what Monkey suggested? “David? Have you ever been in love?”
“Aye, and it was the worst time of my life. Like Captain Hawk, my true love is being a pirate or highwayman—an outlaw if you’d like to call us.”
“Do you think the Captain has ever been in love?”
“Nah. He won’t allow it to happen. There’s nothin’ he wants more than revenge against Britain. Not even a pretty lass.”
“Then I feel sorry for you, David, and the Captain as well.” She sliced the blade across the potato, removing the skin faster than she should. Anger built up inside her, making her want to scream. How dare he suggest Hawk wouldn’t fall in love? She would not let this man ruin her plans. Hawk was her only hope for a way out of marrying a man her father had picked—a man she didn’t love.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Miss Stanhope. I’m happy as a lark and right where I want to be.”
She bit her tongue and didn’t reply. Obviously, there was no talking to a man so stubborn. But what if Hawk felt the same way? How could she convince him to take a chance on love? Should she confess her true feelings first? No, it was best not to say anything right now. She didn’t need him to break her heart. Even though it would if he didn’t return her love
.
* * * *
Marcus stood next to a table as he read the maps his crew had confiscated from all the ships and stagecoaches over the past year. From the bits and pieces Marcus collected so far, he had reason to believe the Royal Navy had a treasure hidden somewhere. He scratched his head and strained his eyes as he studied the map. Why would the navy want to hide anything? Everything eventually made its way back to the King anyway.
Groaning in frustration, he threaded his fingers through his hair and straightened, looking at Gabe who stood next to him. “Nothing makes sense. If I didn’t know better, I would think my father was behind this and knew I was trying to locate the treasure. Leave it to the old man to be that underhanded.”
Gabe chuckled. “What are the odds? Do you think your father knows the identity of Captain Hawk?”
“Of course not. Except for you and a few other crew members, nobody knows my true identity. Besides that, I’m quite certain my father thinks I’m dead.” He shook his head. “What doesn’t make sense is why the navy would want to hide the treasure in the first place.”
Gabe sighed and leaned his elbows on the table as he stared down at the map. “What if it isn’t the navy?” His gaze lifted to Marcus. “What if someone in the navy is in cohorts with a spy and they want the loot for themselves?”
Marcus nodded. “That’s actually more believable.” He straightened and folded his arms across his chest. “What do we know so far? We have gathered information from four ships and three stagecoaches. My father’s name has been linked as well, so obviously the fool is in with this gang. And someone who was on this last stagecoach is up to no good. Whether they are all connected is yet to be determined.” He met Gabe’s stare. “Did you search every prisoner before they were dropped off?”
“Aye. We searched the trunks thoroughly and came up empty. None had any personal items on them except for their clothes, which we also searched.” He chuckled. “Miss Stanhope’s poor companion thought we were violating her person.”
“Indeed, Mrs. Winters would assume that.” Marcus shook his head. “So the spy could have been the driver or the guard since they were both shot.”
Falling In Love Again (Heroic Rogues Series) Page 9
