Lord Rogue

by Tiffany Green

  “You lie,” Montague hissed.

  “You were just in London. Why didn’t you let her know?”

  A frown pulled Montague’s lips down. “Phyllis isn’t so fond of me.”

  “Oh, I do believe you are mistaken, my lord. She would recover in an instant if you were to go and see her.” Certain his words were getting through to the man, Jeremy continued. “You could save your wife and child if you hurry to them right now.”

  Montague raised his eyes, his knuckles turning white from gripping the pistols so tightly. “You would say anything to—”

  “He speaks the truth, now lower those pistols,” Freddy interrupted as his horse sprang forward, skidding to a halt before Montague, spraying pebbles and clumps of dirt all over the man’s boots.

  “What are you doing?” Montague demanded. “You are going to let them escape.”

  Jeremy realized that was exactly what his uncle intended by leaping between him and Montague in such a way. Without a second thought, he spun around and dashed into the trees behind him. Whistling to Prinny, who came trotting up to his right, he helped Evie up into the saddle. “Hold on tight,” he instructed, then vaulted up behind her. With a click of his tongue, they lunged forward.

  Moving between two tall, thin birch trees, he heard the raised voices of Freddy and Montague. Jeremy held Evie close, feeling the heat of her body through his clothes and sighed with relief. Turning left when they came to the main road, he kept Prinny at top speed for several miles, but watched for signs of Montague or his men. His horse would need to rest soon, but Jeremy was determined to get as far from Montague as possible.

  London would take them ten hours to reach if they hurried without rest and did not have to contend with fog. Windermere would take them less than three hours. Certain Scout would pick up their trail, Jeremy turned east and made his way to the border of his estate property. He knew every inch of the dense forest surrounding the mansion and wove through the ancient oaks, scaring a pair of gray squirrels fighting over a fat acorn.

  Prinny stepped out into the main drive lined with perfectly trimmed oaks and Jeremy heard Evie gasp. “I forgot how beautiful Windermere was.”

  Beyond the drive, a row of triple fountains led up to the semi-circular columned porch sitting between two expansive wings that spread wide over a manicured, green lawn. His father’s prized orangery, with glass panes trimmed in green, stood to the right. To the left, the drive curved under a columned portico then continued to the stables behind the mansion. The sight brought back memories of archery competitions and fencing lessons.

  A gardener trimming a topiary straightened when he noticed them and shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun. Then he ran to the rear of the mansion, no doubt to alert the staff. Jeremy halted Prinny and assisted Evie from the horse, pulling her close to keep her from having to put weight on her injured ankle. Then he lifted her up into his arms.

  “That isn’t necessary, Jeremy. Put me down.”

  “No, now quit your wiggling before I drop you.” He tightened his grip. “Or I may just have to kiss you to keep you still.”

  She froze and turned to look at him with wide eyes. The corners of his lips tipped up as they reached the front door and it opened.

  “Welcome, my lord,” the butler said with a bow. “My lady.” Then he closed the heavy oak door as Jeremy entered the vestibule.

  “Have a bath drawn for Lady Fielding and we will need something to eat as well, Fenwick.”

  The butler gave another bow and nodded to the two waiting footmen, who scurried off to do his bidding. Jeremy turned to the stairs and vaulted up, ignoring Evie’s protests. He refused to stop until he reached the marchioness’ suite and was able to settle his sputtering wife down on a thick cushioned chair before the fireplace. One of the footmen soon had a roaring fire crackling in the grate while the other settled the copper tub nearby. Once the tub was filled with steaming water, the footmen disappeared and Jeremy turned to Evie, a slow smile spreading over his lips, making the tip of her nose and ears turn bright pink.

  “You may leave now,” she insisted, twisting her fingers together in her lap.

  “Someone must assist you, pet.” He cocked a brow. “Might as well be me.”

  Color spread across her cheeks and she shook her head, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I think not.”

  “Afraid I’ll ravish you?” he teased, but then his smile fled when he saw her squeeze her eyes shut and her shoulders hunch forward.

  Jeremy drew his brows, then went to his knees beside her chair. “Evie, I—”

  “Stop. Just stop, will you?” She shook her head from side to side and drew her hands back when he tried to touch her. “Don’t.”

  “What is it?” he asked, terrified Montague had done something to her. “Were you hurt?”

  She went still, took a deep breath, then lifted her head. Her sherry eyes were filled with so much pain, his chest went tight and he couldn’t find his voice. She turned toward the fire crackling merrily in the grate, the orange and yellow flames casting dancing shadows across her skin. “I do not have to tell you what I have been through. You were there.” Her voice had a faraway tone, as though she sought to keep any emotion from spilling out. “The day you broke our betrothal was the day you broke my heart. I was crushed. Mortally wounded.” She bowed her head. “Dying a little more each day the pain continued to consume me. Only, death would have been a blessing. Instead, I existed from moment to moment in misery, unable to forget what had happened and move on.”

  Jeremy couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. He could only stare at her pale profile and try to absorb every bit of pain, every moment of agony she had suffered at his hands.

  “I couldn’t forget. You were everywhere. Riding your horse in Hyde Park. Flirting with all the ladies at Huntington’s masque. Purchasing a new waistcoat in Bond Street.” She swallowed hard and whispered, “In my dreams.”

  How he wanted to pull her into his arms and promise her he would never hurt her again, but he resisted. If Evie needed to tell him every painful moment of her life, if it helped her, if it would heal some of the deep, internal wounds he had caused, then he would gladly hear all of it. He just hated her having to relive the most painful moments of her life.

  She surprised him with a tiny smile tumbling out on her lips. “Then Belle came for a visit and provided me a diversion. I went to France with her and spent months training for a new life. For the first time in years, I could see a way to live without you. I was actually eager for a new life.”

  Evie fell silent as she continued to stare into the flames. Jeremy was about to reach out and place his hand over hers when she spoke again. “Just when I had given up on the idea of us being together and was starting a new life, you were there to interfere with those plans.” She shook her head. “The only thing that kept me going was the thought of returning to France with Belle.”

  Jeremy opened his mouth to say she would not be going anywhere, but stopped himself in time. He watched her glance over at him and draw her brows. Her pain so raw and evident, it stole his breath. “Why would you take away my one hope of moving on with my life? Why did you marry me, Jeremy?”

  Chapter 27

  Evie pressed her lips together and turned away. She hadn’t meant to speak of such things, especially to him. Yet, at the same time, she wanted him to know how much he had hurt her in the past and was still hurting her now. Why couldn’t he just let her alone? Why couldn’t he allow her the opportunity to find some peace in her life?

  She glanced down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap and noticed the dirt beneath her nails. Wiping her palms over her gritty skirt, she cleared her throat. “I would like to use that tub before the water goes cold.”

  Jeremy didn’t move, just continued to stare intently at her. Well, she must have shocked him then. Evie sighed. “I would like you to leave so I can bathe.”

  He blinked and glanced over at the tub. “You will need help,” he said softly and
faced her, his eyes gleaming with calculation and a hint of naughtiness.

  Evie shook her head, trying hard to tamp down the excitement stabbing her middle. “I think not.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  He rose to his feet and walked to the door. Evie could breathe once again when he left the room. Well, then, she must have scared him off. Good riddance. She glanced over to the door as two maids entered the room to help her with her bath.

  Refusing to acknowledge the pang of regret, Evie allowed the women to help her shed her clothes and get clean. They gasped at the sight of her bruised, swollen ankle and clucked around her like a couple of mother hens. After her hair and body had been scrubbed clean, the women assisted her into a soft, ivory nightgown and matching robe that had belonged to Phyllis.

  They insisted on brushing her hair dry and wrapping her ankle before leaving the room. With a sigh, Evie sat in the chair before the fireplace and watched the flames leap and dive over the split oak logs. The warmth kissed her clean skin and she settled back against the cushion, trying not to think of a certain rogue who already filled too much of her thoughts. Her heart, too, if she were honest with herself.

  The door opened and a footman scrambled about to remove the tub and bring forth a heavy tray heaping with carved ham, an assortment of cheeses, grapes, sliced bread, and a decanter of wine. She frowned at the two glasses. The footmen bowed out of the room, then Jeremy appeared in the doorway. From the damp ends of his hair and the dark blue dressing robe, he must have also bathed. Evie refused to feel glad to see him, but she could not stop her heart from picking up speed.

  He shifted from foot to foot, an unusual look of uncertainty shadowing his eyes. “May I come in and join you?” He nodded toward the tray on the table beside her chair.

  Evie opened her mouth to refuse. “Yes,” she said instead, as though her tongue had a mind of its own.

  Jeremy stepped into the room, closed the door, then took the other chair. Without looking at her, he poured them each a glass of wine and made her a plate.

  Nibbling on a plump, juicy red grape, Evie could tell something bothered Jeremy. He was too quiet. She took a sip of her wine. No doubt what she had told him earlier was the cause for his pensive mood. Perhaps his guilt had gotten to him. She had once thought Jeremy the most selfish and dishonorable person to have ever walked the Earth. But she had been wrong. The last month gave her a glimpse of another Jeremy. Perhaps, the real Jeremy?

  Evie set aside her half-eaten plate, no longer hungry in the least.

  The fire snapped, sending tiny yellow sparks up the chimney, and the bottom log broke in half, raising more flames up from the bed of red-orange coals beneath. “I can answer your questions, Evie,” Jeremy began softly, “but I am not at all certain you will believe me.”

  She turned away from the heat of the fireplace. Jeremy was looking right at her, his face most serious. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  His eyes dipped down for a moment and he drew his brows. “Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do. If I had known about the betrothal beforehand, I would have done things differently.” He shook his head. “I had already begun missions.” His gaze came back to hers. “And I wanted to find out who killed my father.”

  Evie jerked back at his words. “What?”

  He nodded. “If the killer found out I was looking for him, he would very well go after my wife. I could not risk that happening.”

  Yes, it made sense. Too much sense. Knowing what she did about the Guardians now, she realized Jeremy’s predicament. If she had known then, would it have made a difference? Would she have still been hurt? Yes, although understanding the reasons for the broken betrothal were not because of her did help. He hadn’t rejected her and he couldn’t tell her the truth.

  Evie glanced into his eyes and saw them haunted with regret, and that was when she realized he suffered as well. All these years, he had been living within his own hellish lie. Even as he showed the world a carefree rake on the outside, the real man within could not come out. He had to constantly wear a mask and could never speak about his troubles with friends. Not his real troubles, anyway.

  She pressed her hand to her heart because it ached. Her suffering seemed trivial now. Jeremy had suffered, too. Perhaps even more. Yet, now her heart ached for a different reason. Not from the pain of the past. She hurt from the pain surely to come. The very reasons Jeremy broke their betrothal still existed.

  Jeremy stirred on his seat, drawing her away from her thoughts. She watched him reach into his robe and pull out a small vial. The same one Amelia had given her. He placed it down between their wine glasses.

  Evie glanced up. “What are you doing with that?”

  He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms. Lifting a brow, he said, “Giving you the opportunity to learn the real reason I married you.” He stopped for a moment, then added, “I want you to know the truth, little bird.”

  Her breath caught and her heart began to pound in thick, heavy thuds. She dropped her gaze to the vial, then back up to him. “Exactly how do you feel about me?” she whispered.

  “Put the drops into my wine and I will tell you.”

  Evie froze and could not look away from Jeremy, even if the whole house were to erupt in flames. “Tell me.” She licked her dry lips. “I will believe you.”

  A glint of some strong emotion sprang to his eyes, then he shook his head slowly. “When I speak the words, I never want you to doubt them.” He sighed. “I have played too many games, lied every day, and lived the life of someone I no longer recognize.” Nodding to the vial, he added, “I want you to be absolutely certain what I say is the truth.”

  Evie’s hand shook as she reached for the vial. She lifted the small glass and pinched off the cork. Noticing the last few drops on the bottom, she drew her brows. “You would waste the last of this potion?”

  “It will not go to waste, Evie.”

  He seemed determined to do this. She lifted the vial and poured the last five drops into his wine, then settled back into her chair.

  With a satisfied smile, he raised the wine to his lips and downed the contents in a single gulp. She could see the flames of the fire dancing in his eyes as he stared at her. On the mantle, a clock ticked the seconds away. The fire roared, interrupted by an occasional pop and sizzle of the wood, followed by the snapping of sparks. Still, Evie could not look away from Jeremy. She wondered what he would say.

  The way he stared at her, the way he had never looked at anyone, revealed something deep and powerful. Her heartbeats tripped over themselves as she absorbed what was happening between them. Should she dare hope?

  When his tense shoulders relaxed and the dark pupils of his eyes extended farther out, Evie knew the potion had begun to work. He smiled a crooked smile and nodded. “Go ahead, ask me anything.”

  Evie pursed her lips. “You called Freddy your uncle in the forest. Explain that.”

  “Freddy and my father were brothers. Half-brothers. My grandmother remarried a lowly solicitor after my grandfather died and had Freddy. Father, fifteen years old at the time, did not approve of the marriage, but Grandmother loved Freddy and doted on him.”

  She nodded and took a deep breath, ready to hear the truth. “When was the first time you learned of our betrothal?”

  “The day after your seventeenth birthday, when your brother came to see me.”

  So, he hadn’t known about the betrothal before joining the Guardians. She rubbed her palms down the soft material of her robe. Finally, she could be certain where she stood with Jeremy. No more guessing. No more trying to get passed his façade. She would hear the truth. “How did you feel about breaking our betrothal?”

  His brows pressed together and he dropped his gaze down to his lap. “I hated doing that to you, Evie.”

  Her mouth went dry. “Why did you marry me?”

  Slowly, he looked up, his eyes aflame as they burned into hers. Then he rose up from his chair and
knelt down before her without looking away. He took her hands into his warm ones. “I married you because I could not stand the thought of letting you go. Ever. I love you, Evie.”

  She felt her lips part, heard her own gasp.

  He squeezed her hands. “I hope you will be able to forgive me for what I have done to you. I never meant to hurt you, and if you will allow me, I would be pleased to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” He lifted her right hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss over her knuckles. “Please, say you will stay with me and be my wife.” He lifted her other hand and pressed a kiss. “I honestly do not think I could bear the thought of spending the rest of my life without you.” His eyes roved her face for several seconds then he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

  Evie thought she would burst. Never had she been flooded with so much joy at once. It filled and consumed her. Light burned bright, even in the darkest corners of her heart. She reached for Jeremy and placed her lips over his, unable to quit smiling long enough for a proper kiss. Then she laughed. Sheer elation bubbling up her throat and tears pooled in her eyes. “It took you long enough,” she said, easing back to watch the love shine from his eyes. “When did you know?”

  His lips twitched. “I think it was just after I stole that kiss from Helen of Troy.” He flashed a wolfish smile. “You ensnared me right then and there.”

  She gave another laugh. “I wish you would have told me sooner.” She tried to give him a serious look. “I made all sorts of plans to live in France.”

  Jeremy’s smile fled and he placed his palms against her cheeks. “You will just have to alter your plans, little bird, or prepare to have a husband come after you.”

  “You would come after me?”

  “Yes.” He lowered his head. “And bring you back to me.”

  “What would you do then?” she whispered as he halted just above her lips.