Three Redeemable Rogues

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  “No, no!” Harlan objected. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  Jack dug into his pockets for more evidence. He drew out the ring he’d borrowed from Sophie, and showed it to Harlan. “No?”

  Harlan’s face visibly paled.

  Jack smiled ruthlessly. “I see you recognize it,” he said, and closed his fist around the bauble.

  “I didn’t do it!” Harlan said, and began to scream. “I didn’t send those telegrams to Shorty!” His crew came running, hearing his screams. Jack reared back and hurled a punch at Harlan’s jaw, releasing his collar as he did so. Harlan flew back onto his rear, and his crew stopped and stared.

  “You didn’t send the telegrams to Shorty, did you?” Jack said, flexing his empty hand.

  “No!” Harlan declared, scrambling backward.

  Jack opened his fist. “And you didn’t give him this ring, either, did you, Harlan?”

  “He must have stolen it!” Harlan swore, his eyes narrowing furiously. “I didn’t give that to him!” Jack read the truth in his eyes. He probably hadn’t given up the ring to Shorty. Shorty might very well have stolen it, but it didn’t matter. The evidence still pointed in the same direction. Harlan was a cheater and a thief!

  He advanced on Harlan once more, lifting him up and hurling another punch. “That’s for Shorty!” he said with cold deliberation as Harlan fell back on his rear.

  None of his crew moved a finger to help him, Jack noticed—not that it would have stopped him.

  He seized Harlan up once more, dusted him off while Harlan babbled to him, and then hurled another punch. “And that one’s for Sophia!” he informed him. One last time Harlan went tumbling backward, and Jack told him, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself, Harlan! Hope the wench was worth it!”

  He left him on the ground that time, blood seeping from the corner of Harlan’s mouth. Harlan narrowed his eyes, and he was suddenly provoked. “What do you mean that one was for Sophia?”

  Jack was encouraged by the confrontational look in his eyes. “Fight with me, Harlan!” he demanded. “It’s no damned challenge to scrap with a man who’s too much of a coward to defend himself!”

  “I’m a gentleman!” Harlan fervently protested and swiped at his mouth. “I’m not going to fight you!” he assured Jack, his tone as haughty as a man could manage while still sprawled on his ass and spitting blood through his teeth.

  “Of course not,” Jack replied. “You’d much rather pay a man to sabotage anyone who’s the least bit of a threat to you!”

  “I didn’t pay Shorty to sabotage you!” Harlan denied hotly.

  “Yeah, well, how did you know it was Shorty?” Jack countered, his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t tell you it was Shorty, now did I?”

  Harlan opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Jack took a step toward him, and he scurried backward to evade him.

  “You’re a sorry excuse for a man, Penn!” Jack said. “I’m not going to hit you again, but I am going to give you one solid piece of advice!”

  Relief lit within Harlan’s muddled blue eyes. “Wh-what is that?”

  Jack looked at him, willing the words to come out right. He wanted to say nothing that would reflect poorly on Sophie.

  “Sophia is here,” he said at last, his words carefully measured. His hands trembled at his sides, and he gulped hard, swallowing the emotions that barreled up within him.

  Harlan started visibly, looking about. “Sophia is here! Where?”

  “Don’t piss your pants, Harlan! I’m not stupid enough to bring her waltzing into your orgyfest, but she damned well will be here bright and early tomorrow morning!” He gave Harlan a pointed glance. “You don’t deserve the advance warning, but I’m here to tell you that if I catch your mitts on even one set of breasts before she gets here, or if you hurt her, I swear to God I will kill you with my bare hands!”

  Harlan stood at once. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Make her cry, Harlan, and see what I dare!”

  “I don’t understand!” Harlan exclaimed suddenly, squaring his shoulders. “What is she doing with you, MacAuley?” He brushed himself off, giving Jack an accusing glare.

  Jack held his tongue.

  “Why should you concern yourself over my relationship with Sophia!”

  Jack stood there, wanting to say so much more, but determined to protect Sophie at all costs. Whatever she wanted, he wanted for her—even if she wanted the bastard standing before him.

  “Because I love her, that’s why!” he blurted, and blinked in surprise at his own words.

  Harlan blinked as well, but stared speechless otherwise.

  Jack nodded. It was the truth, damn it. He did love her. And that was all he’d come to say.

  He spun on his heels, leaving Penn staring open-mouthed after him.

  The rest was up to Sophie.

  Chapter 32

  Needing time to think, Jack didn’t return to camp right away. When he did finally, it was to find the camp mostly slumbering. Only a few tents were left illuminated, Sophie’s included, and considering her past experience with lanterns, the light drew him immediately to her. There wasn’t much danger in her starting a fire as long as the lanterns were left in their braces, but just to be certain, he felt compelled to poke his head inside.

  His heart danced at the sight of her.

  She was so beautiful lying there, with her hair spread about her face. She had fallen asleep with her sketchpad at her side and her pencil still in hand. The sketchpad was still open to the page where she had been drawing. Curious, Jack lifted it up, marveling at the details she had captured so accurately on paper.

  It was the dzonot where they had spent the previous afternoon. Never in his life had he seen a more... spiritual drawing. There was no other way to describe it. Bathed in the rays of sunlight it was almost possible to see the sanctity of the place, and in the lush greenery, it was almost possible to spy Hechicera’s face. She wasn’t there, but somehow she was... an almost indistinguishable face among the great canopy of leaves.

  It was incredible.

  Curiosity made him turn the page, and his heart jolted at the face that stared back at him. It was his own, captured with a sense of perfection that he knew he did not possess. The face was almost godly, the eyes piercing and intelligent, the lips full with sensual knowledge...

  It was him, and yet it was not him.

  It was his face as Sophie saw him, and the realization made his heart swell with emotion. He was still reeling from it as he turned the page to find another. He cocked his head at the image. It was another of him... horrific... the eyes bulging in anger and the mouth wide open as though shouting. Christ, if he had been flattered by the previous portrait, this one left him wincing. But her work was extraordinary.

  Sophie stirred at his feet and he closed the pad, setting it down next to her backpack, along with the rest of her drawings. He glanced at them, and then back again, caught by the familiarity of them.

  He began to leaf through them, and was stunned by his discovery. His own research. She had recreated the drawings with incredible accuracy... the jaguar god... even the mapped tombs. Her attention to detail was astounding. Her drawings were not only accurate, they were damned good, capturing more of the spirit of his subjects than he ever could have hoped for. He could use her talents.

  With an overwhelming sense of gratitude, he set the drawings down and went to her, hovering over her as she slept, watching her. The shadow of her lashes fell long over her cheeks, brushing them softly.

  He was overcome with the desire to kiss her.

  “Jack?” she whispered sleepily, and he swallowed, pushing aside the thought that tomorrow she would no longer be with him.

  He didn’t want to think of that now.

  Didn’t want to feel angry.

  Didn’t want to feel lonely.

  He wanted to make love to her.

  He kissed her lips softly, his heart beating harder at the feel of them
so soft against his mouth.

  “Sophia,” he murmured, desperate for the taste of her.

  “Jack,” she said, waking. She smiled sweetly at him and stretched lazily, then lifted her arms around his neck. She opened her mouth to speak.

  “Shhh,” Jack demanded, afraid she would refuse him. He silenced her with a hungry kiss, willing her to feel what was in his heart.

  Like a flower, she opened to him, and he made love to her as he’d never made love to anyone in his entire life.

  Before Sophie, he hadn’t known the real thing.

  Before her... everything he ever did was simply in preparation for this...

  Chapter 33

  Jack had assured her they would reach Harlan’s camp bright and early the next morning, but Sophie was shocked to find how near to it they’d encamped.

  They’d walked, at most, a mile, and then burst forth from the forest into a lush, beautiful clearing that was littered with the nearly vanquished remains of a bygone age. The buildings stood a silent testament to the people who had erected them, but the forest had long ago begun to choke the ruins into submission. Flora and fauna alike conspired to conceal the very buildings themselves from human eyes. So deep in the jungle they lay, they were not ruins any man might easily stumble over.

  Except that someone had found it, and Sophie could see evidence of the jungle stripped away in places, reluctantly unveiling the masterpiece of some forgotten culture.

  The sight of it all momentarily took her breath away.

  She stood staring at the clearing in surprise, at the multitude of tents her father’s money had purchased, and wondered which tent was Harlan’s.

  Her gaze sought Jack’s.

  He was watching her at a distance, his feet planted stubbornly, though she willed him to her side.

  Had he realized how near they were?

  Why hadn’t he told her?

  Despite the intensity of their lovemaking, for whatever reason he was still sullen with her. Suddenly, as she stood in the shadow of these august ruins, beyond the bounds of Harlan’s sleeping camp, she felt more alone than she’d ever felt in all her life. Never had she felt so minuscule and unimportant, her purpose so insignificant in the greater scheme of life.

  Some part of her wanted to kneel in homage to this place. Some part of her wanted to forget all she had come for and simply sit and capture the heart and soul of this forgotten city. The greatest part of her wanted to turn and run, but she’d come so far to face Harlan and she intended to see it through till the end.

  Sucking in a breath, she heaved the backpack off her shoulders and laid it on the ground. Her heart began to hammer as she knelt to retrieve her picture of Harlan.

  Their arrival had been noted.

  As the sun rose, bursting through the tree-tops, Harlan’s camp began to stir. One by one, they crawled out from their tents to watch the interlopers.

  Somehow, it seemed everyone watched her... Jack’s crew and Harlan’s, as well. They all stared at her, waiting to see what she would do.

  Her fingers shook as she withdrew the picture she had been carting around, and she refused to look up into anyone’s eyes, especially not Jack’s.

  Kell came forward and patted her on the back... at least she thought it was Kell by the friendly way he clapped her.

  She looked up to find Jack, and her heart did a quick little somersault against her ribs. “Jack,” she exclaimed, and wanted to throw herself into his arms.

  Panic began to take hold of her. Her meticulously memorized speech flew out of her head completely.

  He dragged her up, seizing her by the arms, his fingers digging gently into her flesh.

  “Sophia,” he said, and the look in his green eyes was fervent. Sophie wanted to weep at the intensity visible in his stark green eyes. “I’ll back you... however you choose to handle this. I’ll make it right...”

  She knew he would. That wasn’t her concern. She wanted to tell him everything, but it wouldn’t be long before he knew. “Oh, Jack!” she cried, and tried to embrace him, but he held her at bay.

  “I’ll tell him it was all my fault,” he assured her. “But you don’t have to confess anything at all.”

  “Jack,” she protested. “I have to—”

  He shook her gently, but urgently. “No, listen to me!” he begged her.

  Sophie suddenly wanted to sob, and she didn’t even know why. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she admonished herself for being so silly.

  It wasn’t as though this were goodbye.

  Why was she crying?

  “Sophia...” He swallowed visibly. “I just want you to know...”

  Her heart squeezed her painfully. She stared into his eyes, willing him to speak. “Yes, Jack?”

  “Before you go ..

  His fingers clutched her harder, almost desperately, but Sophie didn’t care. The look in his eyes gave her hope.

  She waited with bated breath to hear his next words.

  “Jack,” she prompted when he merely stared, the look in his eyes something like fear, as though he were afraid to speak the words. But that was impossible, because Jack MacAuley wasn’t afraid of anything at all.

  She swallowed convulsively.

  He was her hero, her lover, her friend, and lately her mentor. She loved him fiercely, and respected him even more. She wanted to please him always.

  Harlan’s camp had come completely alive in the few moments while they stared at each other, while Sophie willed Jack to speak the words.

  I love you, her heart cried out.

  Say it, Jack.

  “Sophia!” someone shouted. It was Harlan.

  Sophie peered over her shoulder to see him coming toward them, and panic beset her all over again. She clutched Jack’s arm, looking frantically at him. She didn’t want him to let go of her because if he did, she would fall flat on her face and humiliate herself before one and all.

  “Jack!” she cried softly, terror-stricken, but not for the reasons he might have thought. The picture of Harlan slipped from her fingers and fell to her feet.

  She was afraid he would never say it, afraid the real world would somehow take him away, afraid he wouldn’t wait for her... that he would walk away without knowing the truth—and she was still afraid of being a fool for any man.

  His eyes seemed to be pleading with her.

  She tilted him a beseeching glance.

  His hand suddenly lifted from her arm, and gently reached out to caress her face. “I love you, Sophia,” he said, speaking the words she most needed to hear.

  Her heart lifted into her throat, and tears sprang to her eyes. Her throat constricted, and she couldn’t speak for an instant.

  “Sophia!” Harlan shouted once more, his tone sounding overly pleased. “Here I am... over here!” he hailed her.

  With a strength of determination she hadn’t known she possessed, she pulled away from Jack, but he held her fast. “You don’t have to go,” he urged her.

  Sophie pushed him firmly away, wanting so much to explain, but Harlan was nearly upon them. “Yes, I do!” she assured him, and sucked in a breath. “I have to do this, Jack!” And she extricated herself from his iron grip, suddenly dizzy with joy.

  He loved her!

  Dear God, he loved her!

  Never in her life had anyone spoken those words to her. Never in her life had she wanted someone to say them more. Her heart felt near to bursting.

  She didn’t care about Harlan at all.

  This wasn’t the least painful, only necessary, and she was suddenly eager to do it! She straightened her shoulders, picked up the picture of Harlan from where she’d dropped it at her feet, gave Jack one last heartfelt glance, and said again, “I really have to do this.”

  And she grinned at him.

  She actually grinned at him.

  As she tore away from him, Jack swallowed so hard that it hurt his heart. She began walking toward Harlan, never looking back, and he stood there, feeling as though she’d ripp
ed out his insides and then smiled as she’d done so.

  He let her go.

  He had no choice but to do so.

  He’d laid out his heart for the taking, and she’d refused it and left him anyway.

  He couldn’t bear to watch.

  His gaze sought Kell’s and he found his friend grinning as well. The realization gave him pause.

  What the hell was wrong with everyone?

  He turned once more to Sophie, watching her stride toward Harlan... full of confidence and purpose. She was a woman with a mission. In her hand she clutched Harlan’s vandalized picture as though it were a weapon. As he watched, she lifted it up suddenly when she was almost near Harlan and quickly removed the back, tossing it over her shoulder. She removed something and then tossed the picture as well. And just when Harlan would embrace her to welcome her, she unfolded something and thrust it into his face.

  He’d be damned if Kell wasn’t laughing. Jack couldn’t hear him, but his shoulders shook with mirth.

  What the hell was going on?

  How did Kell seem to know?

  Jack moved closer to eavesdrop, thinking maybe he could bear to hear this after all.

  “Oh, Harlan, guess what Jon has shared with me!” she declared as she waved a paper in his face.

  “What?” her fiancé asked her, trying to examine the paper as she waved it.

  And then, evidently, he recognized it, because he paled visibly at the sight of it, and Sophie said to him, “I see you recognize it, Harlan dearest!”

  Curiosity needled Jack and he moved closer to Kell. “What the hell is that in her hand?”

  “A letter,” was all Kell felt inclined to reveal, and he grinned at Jack.

  Jack shot him a glare, and turned to watch Sophie again, his attention riveted to her now as she began to recite something aloud to everyone who cared to listen.

  “... and the women here are the most lovely any man has ever beheld,’ she read, her tone melodramatically poetic, “skin so velvet brown and eyes so deep a black a man may sigh to see his own reflection in her eyes!”