The Rogue Knight

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Certainly Fontaine had been anxious, worried since the moment Lady Lightender had explained her plan to her. Still, it seemed such a long time since Fontaine had known anything save anxious worry, she wondered if she would ever again be able to experience other emotions. But Lady Lightender assured her she would. Therefore, for love of Knight and for want of his love in return, Fontaine had agreed to Lady Lightender’s rather ironic scheming.

  “I’ve received an answer to my letter to Knight’s mother, Lady Lathan,” Lady Lightender had explained the day before. “She is greatly relieved to not only know the reasons for her son’s despondency, his inability to sleep since his return…but also to know of your existence. And she is in full, willing, and I might add excited to join in the conspiracy with us.”

  And now, Fontaine stood in the Lady Lathan’s chambers, the lady of the manor herself straightening the apron of Fontaine’s maid uniform.

  “He’ll most likely drop dead, I’m quite afraid,” Lady Lathan smiling said as she studied Fontaine for a moment. She winked at her next, and Fontaine noted how the charming roll of her Spanish accent complemented her great loveliness. Knight had the masculine adaptation of his mother’s beauty, and Fontaine had relaxed just a bit upon meeting her earlier in the day.

  “It is no wonder I find my Des so unhappy,” Lady Lathan said, reaching up and straightening Fontaine’s ruffled maid’s cap. The lovely woman twisted a tendril of Fontaine’s hair around her finger, tucking it quickly behind her ear.

  “Well, it’s all nonsense, Esperanza,” Lady Lightender said. “Gone two years, and what did he learn of life? Nothing! Nothing but to deny himself the one thing in life that matters most.”

  “He is a stubborn, silly boy, my Des,” Lady Lathan sighed. “But that is why you have come, Fontaine…to grow him up…make his happiness.”

  Every inch of Fontaine’s body was trembling! She’d been unable to eat all day for fear of what was to come.

  “What if…what if he becomes so angry with me that…what if you are both mistaken in your estimation of his feelings?” Fontaine stammered. To have him leave her off with Lady Lightender had been painful almost beyond endurance. What if he rejected her now altogether? It would be the end of her, of that Fontaine was certain.

  “Oh, he’ll be angry enough for the devil himself to fear him,” Lady Lathan said. “But in the next moment you will be in his arms and then…then he will be making love to you forever!” Fontaine tried to believe the Spanish beauty’s dramatic goings on, tried to draw encouragement from Lady Lightender’s affirming nod. “I shall have to pull you from his embrace, spank him soundly on the seat of his breeches, and remind him that I raised him up to be a gentleman.”

  Taking hold of Fontaine’s shoulders then, Lady Lathan turned her around to gaze at herself in the mirror.

  “You see!” Lady Lathan exclaimed. “The prettiest maid to ever grace the halls of Lathan Green.”

  Fontaine smiled, pleased by her appearance. She’d never considered herself in a maid’s uniform before, and it delighted her, for now the tables had indeed turned. If Knight had played at being a coachman, she surely could play at being a maid.

  “A wager, Esperanza?” Lady Lightender giggled. “I say he pauses, astonished into silence and confusion.”

  Lady Lathan giggled, too. “I say he pounces on her as a cat on a mouse.”

  “I…I think he may be far too infuriated to be rational,” Fontaine offered. “What if he picks me up by my hair and tosses me out into the gardens?”

  Lady Lathan and Lady Lightender looked at one another for a moment. “Well,” Lady Lathan sighed at last. “We do have lovely gardens at Lathan Green.” When Fontaine’s brow puckered with a frightened frown, both the Lady Lathan and the Lady Lightender fairly erupted into giggles, and Fontaine was somewhat relieved.

  She considered the women for a moment, amazed at their ease of manner, their light-hearted ways. For the past few years she’d known only her aunt’s wicked manner, selfish and evil ways, and she began to remember that not all of those blessed with title and wealth…not all were of the same measure of her aunt and Lord Greenville.

  “Now,” Lady Lathan said in a whisper. “He’ll be ringing for his afternoon refreshment at any moment, and here is what you must do…”

  “You must enter calmly,” Lady Lightender interrupted.

  “Yes,” Lady Lathan agreed. “Enter calmly; set the tray at his desk and when he says, ‘Thank you,’ you respond, ‘Of course, Master Desiderio.’ Are you able to do that, do you think?”

  Fontaine put a hand to her stomach, which was churning with apprehension. “If I am able to stay conscious long enough,” she said. Then shaking her head she added, “He’ll be enraged!”

  “I’ve brought my walking stick just in that case,” Lady Lightender assured her, holding her walking stick tight in her fist. Fontaine smiled at her, encouraged by her support. Again she wondered how it could be that she fell so easily into friendship with these strangers of late. It was unthinkable. Yet perhaps that was what loving Knight afforded, others in addition to himself who were of a fine, friendly, caring material.

  “Are you ready then, my darling?” Lady Lathan asked. Fontaine inhaled deeply and nodded.

  All three women stood in the kitchen staring anxiously at the summoning bells on the wall. At last the cord of the middlemost bell began to move, the bell ringing loudly.

  “It’s the study bell,” Lady Lathan confirmed. “Quickly now, darling,” she said, handing a silver serving tray to Fontaine and setting a glass of water and plate of cake on it. “Go to him.” Lady Lathan put a soft, scented palm to Fontaine’s cheek, smiling with encouragement. “And do not fear him, my dear,” she whispered. “You’re all he wants in the world. I promise.”

  Tentatively, Fontaine pushed open the door leading to Knight’s father’s study. Sitting at a large desk in the middle of the room, Knight seemed completely distracted by whatever document he was penning at the moment. Fontaine’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of him! He was magnificent! She’d almost forgotten how magnificent! Tears welled in her eyes, and it took every bit of strength and courage she could muster to walk into the room.

  Without looking up, he gestured with one hand that she should enter. “Pray set the tray here, miss,” he mumbled pointing to his desk. Fontaine stumbled once as she approached him. “Careful of the rug,” he said.

  She was standing directly next to him; she could smell the scent of leather and shaving soap…the familiar scent of him that she loved. Carefully, for her hands were trembling, she set the tray on his desk in the spot he had indicated and dropped a quick curtsy.

  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

  Fontaine swallowed the lump of nerves in her throat and said, “Of course, Master Desiderio.” But he did not move, did not seem to recognize her voice, and with great disappointment and despair rising in her bosom, Fontaine turned, hurrying quickly across the room.

  “Wait!” he fairly shouted. Fontaine stopped, her heart beating madly in her chest. “Come here, girl,” he ordered, and she could hear the anxiety in his voice. Slowly she turned around, raising her head to meet his curious gaze.

  Instantly his eyes blazed, the emerald of their fire piercing her very soul, and Fontaine gasped as Knight, frowning, took no time to circumvent his desk, simply stepping onto and over it, striding toward her like a starving panther.

  She had not a moment to think, to consider anything, for the very instant he was close enough, Knight reached out, taking her throat in one hand and pulling the maid’s cap from her head with the other as his mouth attacked her own with a driven, ravenous thirst.

  “Fontaine,” he breathed, his mouth leaving hers only long enough for his eyes to caress her face, the expression of wanton passion in his countenance. “Fontaine,” he fairly moaned as he gathered her into the power of his arms, ravaging her with heated, moist affections.

  Fontaine bathed in his embrace, returned his ardent kiss,
let her fingers be lost in the softness of his hair. She took his face in her own hands, reveling in the sensation of his jaw working to enhance the passion between them, the intense passion threatening to rage beyond their control. And she sensed something new in him, an absence of restraint, and it thrilled rather than frightened her. She fisted her hands in his hair as he endeavored to hold her more tightly, drink more deeply of the flavor of her kiss.

  “You must be properly wed before I can allow this to go any further, Des,” Lady Lathan said firmly. And when he did not release Fontaine, Lady Lightender knocked the floor twice hard with her formidable walking stick. “Des!” Lady Lathan scolded.

  Seeming rather winded, Knight indeed broke the seal of their kiss, gently pushing Fontaine from his arms.

  Wiping the moisture from his lips, evidence of a passionate exchange, he said, “Mother…what have you done?”

  “I’ve won a wager, Des,” Lady Lathan said.

  Fontaine noted the deep furrow that wrinkled Knight’s brow, noticed the way he kept his eyes cast down toward the floor, rather than looking at her, his mother, or Lady Lightender.

  “You’ve ruined me,” he mumbled. “And her.”

  “Oh, I do not think there is much ruin here,” Lady Lathan said, looking to Fontaine and winking. “Simply two liars who need to repent.” With that she and Lady Lightender took their leave of the study, closing the door behind them.

  “I’m trusting her to your care, Des,” Lady Lathan called from beyond the doors. “To your care…and to your honor.”

  Fontaine would’ve smiled at the woman’s rather amusing counsel but for the fact Knight did not seem to find it amusing. He had turned from her; his shoulders slumped in an unfamiliar manner of defeat.

  “Why have you come here?” he growled. Fontaine’s mind reeled with confusion. Had he not, only the moment before, seemed jubilant to see her? And now, now he turned from her as if repulsed by her presence. What had begun as joy, joy in seeing him again, joy in is apparent caring for her, began to wilt into fear and heartache once more.

  “Why…why did you leave me?” she whispered.

  Whirling around he glared angrily at her. “For your own well-being, Fontaine! For your safety! You know why! To protect you! To protect you from Lady Wetherton…and…and from me…a villain and a liar.”

  “You don’t own the sin of deception, Knight,” Fontaine cried. “And it is no good reason to quit me if you…if you really…”

  “If I really love you?” he finished. His expression was so angry, so guilt-ridden, and Fontaine stumbled backward, stunned by what else she thought she read in him. “Do you think I am in love with you, Fontaine?”

  “I…I…I hoped,” she whispered as tears streamed down her face.

  “Do you think you are in love with me?” he asked.

  “I…I…” she could only stammer. Had his letter to Lady Lightender been a lie as well? Had his kiss only moments before, his ravaging of her…had it too been misunderstood?

  “Then if I am in love with you,” he said, reaching out and taking hold of her arm. “Why would I bring you here…to risk discovery, to lead you into danger…when I could leave you tucked neatly away in safety and secret with Lady Lightender?”

  Fontaine put a hand to her temple, for the pain there and in the rest of head was becoming unbearable. “Then…then you are loathe to think of me as anything but…”

  “I am loathe to think of you marrying Lord Greenville!” he shouted. “You forget yourself, Fontaine! You are but eighteen yet and have no verifiable reason to keep your aunt from forcing you to marry!”

  Fontaine let her body fall back against the wall behind her, clamped her hand over her mouth as he continued in his shouting.

  “The only way I can save you, Fontaine…is to…is to…” he began to stammer. “If I were to do anything else, if I were to myself take you to my…”

  Suddenly, Fontaine recognized his raving as being the result of fear…not anger. And she knew, in that moment she knew what he feared. He wasn’t afraid for her, but of her. For what had Mr. Dennis’s interpretation of her father’s will been? Had not her father included an article in the will stipulating should she marry without her aunt’s permission and consent before the age of nineteen…? Yes, it was true…should she marry under such circumstance, she would lose her inheritance. And although she had borne great concern, wanting to acquire The Graces, to secure the futures of her beloved Marta, Big William, and the others…that was before Knight’s appearance at Pratina Manor one cold winter’s night. Fontaine realized in that brief moment how little it all mattered now, her father’s wealth.

  The article had been written as a protection against her marrying a common man and being left penniless. And what for it? Had Knight truly been a coachman, had she quit her inheritance and property to marry him…she knew in her heart she would be happier than ever she had imagined. She knew in that moment, sensed she had always known it, that coachman or heir to a title and great wealth…Knight was all she wanted.

  And so she said softly, “I fully and freely forgive you, Knight.” She watched him grimace as if someone had just plunged a knife into his chest. “Necessity…or fear…has made deceivers of us both. In truth, there is nothing I need forgive. Unless…unless you truly care nothing for me.”

  He stood silent, hands fisted, jaw firmly set, and, yes, moisture plentiful in his eyes. Fontaine’s heart began to beat easier, despair melting from her soul as she studied him. “This…all of this, Knight,” she began. “All of this was conceived in your mind when you first met me…before we played at being lovers, when I had no way of escape, no one to rescue me from Lady Wetherton’s power, when it was necessary for my very survival to inherit my father’s fortune, that I might have means of existing. And now, because of your false representation of yourself when first we came together, and your continuation of it thereafter…now you assume that I would choose to wait, to inherit my father’s wealth…rather than forsake it all for the coachman I love?” Fontaine watched Knight struggling to contain his emotions.

  “I do not care a wit for any of it anymore, Knight,” she said. “Any of it…save the livelihood of those who protected me before you came to do it.” She exhaled a breath of hope. “I don’t think I’ve cared a wit for it since Mr. Dennis told me I would be disinherited for marrying the man of my choice. I…I only left The Graces in the hope you would…you would…” She brushed a tear from her cheek. “And if you do not want me…I will wait, I will inherit. For there will never be…”

  “I love you, Fontaine,” he said, reaching out and taking her face in his powerful hands. Fontaine let the tears stream down her cheeks unafraid, unashamed. “I…I never thought any woman could so completely own me,” he continued. “You frightened me. I, who feared nothing, feared you…feared for you, at first…feared I would not be able to keep from forcing you into my bed next, when we were playing at lovers. Finally, I feared the loathing I was certain you would feel toward me once you found out who I really was…and how I had deceived you.” He shook his head, brushing the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Can you love such a weak man as I am, Fontaine?” he asked, bending and placing his lips to the hollow of her throat. “I would die for you,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “I would even play at being a coachman for the rest of my life if it is what would make you marry me.”

  Fontaine giggled slightly, overcome with relieved joy. Wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her against him, she said, “But if I marry you now, I will be penniless. I will have no dowry, no tender or property.”

  Kissing her mouth lingeringly, Knight smiled and in a low, alluring voice whispered, “You have plenty of tender property, peach.”

  Gasping, astonished yet delightfully so, she said, “You are a rogue, sir.”

  “I am,” he mumbled, his mouth tasting of hers once more. “And I am yours, lady…your own rogue…Knight.”

  EPILOGUE

  “Oh, Marta,”
Lady Esperanza Lathan sighed. “What a way you have with luncheon!”

  “Yes, Marta! Indeed,” Lady Lightender agreed.

  “Thank ya, milady…and milady,” Marta said, beaming with pride. “I try my best, I do.”

  Fontaine smiled as she sat under the white picnic pavilion, her full, round belly causing a comfortable position to be elusive. Still, as the tiny life within her moved and kicked, impatient to escape its confines and join the fun of a bright summer’s day at The Graces, she was glad for the slight discomfort of her condition.

  As she looked around at her friends, all of them, enjoying a lazy picnic on the lawn, she marveled at how wonderful her life was, how blessed. Scarcely more than a year had passed since she and Knight had gone missing from The Graces, and now they had returned as its owners and summer residents. To think of her life before, what her prospects had been still put a taste of uneasiness in Fontaine’s mouth. But Knight would return soon and set the bitterness of the past to rest with one delicious kiss.

  It was odd to think on all that had happened. And it had begun with Knight being beaten nearly to death in a darkened alley in winter. The scope of the events to follow were nearly overwhelming, Knight’s playing at being Fontaine’s lover, his conspiracy to extract her from her aunt’s control. And then came their heartache, their loving confessions to one another, and their blessed, beautiful marriage. How Knight had ever convinced Lady Wetherton to sell him The Graces was beyond Fontaine’s comprehension. Perhaps it was simply that Lady Wetherton was satisfied with finally inheriting Fontaine’s fortune, forfeited when Fontaine married Knight before her nineteenth birthday. Still, the witch had become enraged at discovering Knight’s true lineage and the scale of his means. But somehow, whether through pure threatening intimidation or simply through the lure of receiving more for the property than it was worth…somehow Knight had saved The Graces from her aunt’s loathsome possession. He’d saved it just as he’d saved her. Further Marta, Daniel, Big William, and many others, having quit her aunt the moment they were sent word of the opportunity to find their home with Fontaine at Lathan Green, had been willing enough yet to leave their new residence for the more familiar surroundings of The Graces.