A Reckless Runaway

by Jess Michaels

  He held her gaze while he thrust, grinding his hips against hers with every stroke. She lifted to meet him, lost in his eyes and the feel of them as one unit reaching for pleasure. For connection. For a future she feared he would ultimately take away from them both.

  She pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the pleasure building between her legs, spreading through her veins, making her limbs tingle. She reached for it, finding it effortlessly and her back arched as the waves of pleasure crested through her.

  He gathered her hips tighter against his with both hands, denting her flesh with his fingers, bruising her and marking her. He ground harder and deeper as she keened against his mouth. She felt the tension in him increase, the tightening of his very being that meant he was close to release, as well. He grunted her name and just barely pulled from her, pumping himself between them as he crushed his lips to hers.

  She clung to him, holding him against her as their kisses gentled, as his fingers smoothed instead of clenched, as his legs tangled with hers. He wanted to pull away, she could feel it, but she held him steady, pouring everything she was and could ever be into this man.

  And when he finally pulled back and smiled down at her, she couldn’t lie or hide anymore. She stroked her hand along his rough jaw and whispered, “I love you.”

  He flinched. A brief but powerful moment that she knew she would carry with her for the rest of her life. He flinched and her heart shattered even as he leaned in to kiss her briefly once more.

  Then he pushed from her bed and gathered up his trousers. He shook them out, his back to her, muscles flexing as he dressed. She reached to cover herself with the rumpled sheets as he did so, no longer safe to be vulnerable.

  He turned back to her when he was fixed, staring down at her. His dark gaze rolled over her from head to toe, taking in every inch. And then he sighed.

  “I want you to know, whatever happens next, I will never regret walking up that dock to you,” he said softly. “I will never regret putting you in that boat and taking to my island, or riding home with you, or touching you or being with you. Whatever happens next, you need to know how much all that meant to me. And that it will mean everything to me until the moment I take my last breath.”

  “Whatever happens next,” she repeated, for he had said that phrase twice and it terrified her. “And what is that?”

  He shook his head and backed to the door. “What has to happen, Anne. What always had to happen. Goodbye.”

  He backed from the room with one last look and the door shut between them, and he was gone. She could have raced after him, naked if need be. She could have shouted his name and drawn this goodbye out longer. Made it more painful. Part of her wanted to do just that. The part of her that always went after what she wanted commanded her to make a scene, to make a production, to make him listen.

  But in the end, she knew only bad things would come of that. And Rook would still leave. Perhaps because he didn’t love her. Perhaps because he did. She didn’t know for certain. In the end, the outcome was the same so perhaps it didn’t matter.

  He was gone. And she couldn’t bring him back. So she rolled on her side and let the tears fall.

  Rook had to wait in the dark for a couple of hours after he left Anne’s bed. With all the excitement of the last few days, the household had remained in an uproar and servants had been preparing for the family’s departure long into the night. But at last even Harcourt’s butler Willard took to the servant quarters and the house was quiet and still.

  Rook stepped from the shadows of one of the parlors where he had been waiting and watching, and slipped down the hallway to Harcourt’s study. The room wasn’t locked and he stepped inside with no trouble. The statue they had examined together earlier in the day was no longer on the desk, despite Rook’s statement that it was a recreation and had no value. Harcourt didn’t fully trust him, it seemed.

  “Clever man,” Rook muttered.

  But very few locks had ever stopped him and he had little fear of this one. He stepped behind the huge mahogany desk and grabbed the edges of the painting hung behind it. He lifted and set the priceless heirloom away. The metal of the small safe behind it glinted in the dying firelight. There was no key, of course, but Rook didn’t need a key.

  He reached into his boot and touched the handle of a lock pick. In the other was a knife, but he didn’t need that now. He prayed he wouldn’t need it at all. But old habits died hard, which was working in his favor now.

  He stretched his shoulders and worked the tip of the lock pick into the hole. It used to be he could strip a lock open in less than a minute. But it had been a while since he practiced the skill, and it took a few clicks of the clock on the mantel to get the safe open.

  He shook his head at his rusty skills before he reached in and drew out the cloth-wrapped statue.

  He uncovered it and stared at the beautiful clay bust. Recreation or no, it was a shame, really, to do what he was about to do, but there was nothing to it. Sometimes damage had to be done, as he well knew from this entire endeavor.

  He wrapped the fabric tight around the clay top of the piece and held the marble base as he whacked it against the desk edge. A second smack against the hard wooden edge and he felt the entire clay portion give. The cloth muffled the sound of shattering terracotta, but he still held perfectly still as he waited for rushing feet in response to the act.

  Nothing happened for a moment, two, and he let out his breath in relief that he hadn’t been heard. He opened the bag and carefully dumped out the shards on the desktop. What he was looking for wasn’t immediately obvious, so he lit a candle and picked through the mess, trying to find what he knew was there. What he hoped was there.

  Finally, he found it. A metal vial hidden in the clay dust and shards. He picked it up and opened it to reveal a rolled piece of paper inside. It was a coded message that certainly revealed where Solomon Kincaid had hidden the gem he and Ellis had stolen. The damned fool thing that had caused all this heartbreak and consternation.

  Rook didn’t recognize the code immediately, but that didn’t matter. Ellis had always had the head for these kinds of things, not him. And since Solomon might have written the code for Ellis himself, it was more likely his cousin who could solve it.

  Rook rerolled the paper and pressed the vial into his pocket for safekeeping. Then he whipped out a fresh sheet of vellum from the top drawer of Harcourt’s desk and wrote a quick note. His words would offer no comfort to Anne, nor any absolution for himself, but he wrote it anyway and left the mess behind so that there would be no mistaking what he’d done.

  His heart throbbed as he slipped from the room and down the hall to leave the house. Once outside in the brisk night air, he turned back to look up at the house. He found Anne’s window and stared up at it. He had to go. It was the only way to save her.

  The only way to save anyone in this situation was to fight this evil power at his cousin’s side. He and Ellis had always been unstoppable together. They would have to be unstoppable again to make up for everything they had done in the past.

  And once it was over? Well, he would disappear. It was obvious that no matter how hard he tried, his past and his nature were what they were. He didn’t belong in a house like this with a woman like Anne Shelley. Some dark part of him would always exist. It would always be waiting to threaten her, because even if he pretended his knives were for woodcraft, they weren’t. He wasn’t.

  To save her, he had to embrace what he had once been, and then let her go. So he would.

  He turned away from the house with great difficulty and made his way to the stable to take the old horse he had ridden here on beside Anne. He had to find Ellis. Or more likely let his cousin find him.

  And then they would end this at last.

  Chapter 21

  Anne walked through the quiet halls of Harcourt Heights, worrying her hands before her. She hadn’t slept. How could she after her last night with Rook? She had finally risen early and
prepared herself in the hopes she would see him before everyone else was up to get on the road to London.

  But he was nowhere to be found. His room was empty, his bed looked as unslept-in as her own had been. His small pile of clothing was still there, though, and his road bag.

  She just had to find him.

  “Anne?”

  She pivoted to find Juliana exiting one of the parlors. Her sister’s eyes also looked shadowed and concerned.

  “Juliana, what are you doing up?” Anne said as she moved to her. “We have a few hours before we are meant to depart for London and you should sleep.”

  Juliana arched a brow. “You think I can sleep for worrying about this situation? I can do nothing to help anyone and I feel so useless.”

  Anne drew back a fraction. Her sister had always been the one who repaired things, smoothed things. And now she was utterly left out in a way. Anne had been gone as Thomasina and Harcourt fell in love. When she returned, she had been so wrapped up in Rook and the madness created by his cousin…

  She could see how troubled Juliana was now that she actually looked. She stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her sister. “You help just by being the wonderful, calming force you always are, I promise you. You can do nothing else.”

  Juliana didn’t look appeased by those words, but before she could say anything there was a faint bang from somewhere down the hall. Both women stopped and turned toward it.

  “Did that come from Harcourt’s study?” Juliana whispered.

  Anne nodded. “I think so. Perhaps it’s Rook. I’ve been looking for him all morning.”

  Her sister shot her a knowing glare but motioned her up the hall. “Let’s go see. I promise to leave if you two need to be alone, but I’m not letting you go in there by yourself until we know who it is. Just in case.”

  “Just in case what?” Anne laughed. “As if a villain would dare to enter Harcourt’s hallowed halls.”

  “Ellis Maitland did, or at least he came onto the grounds.” Juliana shivered slightly. “I do not know what to think of such a man. What was he like?”

  Anne didn’t answer the question because she entered the study in that moment and stared at what she found there. The painting behind Harcourt’s desk was leaning against the wall. Broken shards of pottery were spread across his desk.

  “Oh my God,” Juliana whispered as she stepped forward and surveyed the scene. “There is a letter from Rook.”

  Anne stepped forward to join her at the desk, her gaze darting over the letter in Rook’s even, tight hand.

  The moment I saw it, I realized the importance of your statue was within, not the marble or clay. I’ve taken the coded message I found inside and believe it likely reveals where Solomon hid the gem. I will join Ellis to find it and return it to Leonard. Lord Harcourt, I suggest you take the family to London as planned. Protect Anne for me as you promised you would. Anne is all that matters.

  R.M.

  She caught her breath at those words. Both the ones that said what he had done and the ones that revealed her worth to him as much as his parting whisper had last night. She could hardly form words to speak.

  In the end, she had no time to do so. With a bang, the door behind them closed. When they pivoted, both sisters saw the man who had been hiding behind it. Not Rook. Not Harcourt. Not even Ellis Maitland. Anne recognized the intruder from ballrooms in London. A handsome man, only a handful of years older than Rook was, she would wager. But with a hard glint to his stare, an emptiness that spoke of a predator.

  It was Winston Leonard, and he had a gun pointed at Juliana.

  “Anne Shelley,” he purred. “You are something of a commodity in demand lately.”

  “That’s not Anne,” Anne said, maneuvering to put herself in front of Juliana, who was just staring at the gun with utter terror in her eyes. “I’m Anne.”

  He snorted as he looked her up and down. “You’re dressed too plainly to be Anne—everyone knows how showy she is. You must be that little mouse Thomasina.”

  Anne looked down at herself. She had dressed in her road clothes because they were the easiest to put on without help. Juliana, on the other hand, was wearing a much prettier and more fashionable frock. Given their reputations, it made sense that he would be confused.

  “Lord Winston,” Juliana said softly. “There is no need to—”

  He lunged forward before she could finish. Anne cried out and tried to push back against him as he reached for Juliana. But he was more prepared and far larger. He hit Anne hard, catching her chin with the tip of his elbow and staggering her to the floor. Stars flashed before her eyes as she watched him catch Juliana’s arm, yanking her toward him and pressing the gun to her temple.

  “Ellis Maitland clearly doesn’t care about his brother enough to take this matter seriously, but that means nothing now. According to the note he so kindly left, that cousin of his has what I want, or the means to retrieve it. And it seems Rook Maitland cares about you, Miss Anne. So you’re coming with me.”

  “She’s not Anne!” Anne insisted, trying to get up even though her head was spinning from the blow. “Please.”

  “I think I must shoot her,” Leonard said with a smile for Juliana before he looked down at Anne. “Don’t you? For being so difficult. That ought to keep Harcourt busy at any rate.”

  “No!” Juliana snapped, grasping for his wrist to keep the gun pointed away from Anne. Her voice was suddenly calm, that appeasing tone she had honed with their father over the years. “Please. We’ll stop playing games. I’m Anne Shelley, you are correct.”

  “No,” Anne whispered as she shook her head at her sister.

  Juliana ignored her. “But killing my sister won’t help you keep anyone busy. That’s Juliana Shelley, not Thomasina. She has no relationship to either the Maitlands, nor to Harcourt, so no one cares what happens to her. If you leave her be, I’ll go with you without fight or trouble.”

  “She’ll go to Harcourt straight away,” Leonard argued, and the gun swung toward Anne again. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “That’s exactly what you want, my lord,” Juliana continued to soothe. “Harcourt will fear his beloved wife is in as much in danger as her sisters. His rush will be to protect Thomasina, for that is all he cares about. Trying to keep her from harm will surely slow him down more than shooting his uninteresting sister-in-law ever would.”

  Anne’s lips parted at Juliana’s depreciation of her own worth, even as a means to protect Anne from certain death. More so, she was shocked by her sister’s sacrifice in allowing a killer to take her.

  Leonard looked at Anne on the floor and then nodded. “I suppose. And it will make it easier if Maitland knows where to find me at any rate. I have my bargaining chip for protection.” He glared at Anne. “You tell Harcourt and Maitland that they can find me on Donovan Hill. If anyone but Maitland comes or if he doesn’t have the message that will allow me to find my damned gem, I will kill her.”

  Juliana sucked in a breath through her teeth as he tugged her a little closer to him.

  Anne nodded slowly. “I-I understand.”

  “Wait five minutes here and then you do what you’re told,” he said. He sneered and then dragged Juliana away through the door.

  Anne’s last glimpse of her beloved sister was her wide and terrified green eyes as she disappeared into the hallway with a villain far worse than Ellis Maitland had ever hoped to be. She waited until she heard the slam of the front door, then rushed to the window. She saw Juliana struggling as she was all but thrown onto a wild-looking stallion. Leonard jumped on behind her, and they rode away down the drive and away from the house.

  Immediately Anne raced from the room. She was screaming as she ran, “Help! Someone help!”

  But she feared that if Rook was gone, help would not come. Juliana would suffer for it and for her sacrifice if they couldn’t find him.

  Rook rode along the back roads through the woods behind Harcourt’s house. He wasn’t certain where
Ellis had gone, but he knew he couldn’t be too far away since he had insisted upon obtaining Rook’s help. His cousin wouldn’t ride toward the village, too populated with Harcourt’s associates. The main road wasn’t safe for Ellis either.

  But these back roads were another story, so he’d chosen a direction farther from population and hoped he knew his cousin well enough to guess right.

  But now it had been an hour since he started his slow, trotting search, and he was beginning to think he didn’t know anything at all anymore. He slowed himself in the path and turned the horse, looking into the trees. Finally he sighed and let out a low series of sharp whistles, the old code he and Ellis had used to find each other when they were separated on jobs. The sound would carry at least.

  He was still a moment, and to his shock, he heard Ellis’s answering call in the distance. He repeated the call as he pivoted the horse in the direction of the answer and heard it returned louder. He burst through a small group of trees and there Ellis was, on his own fine mount, racing toward Rook with a wild expression.

  “Did he show up?” Ellis said as they met in a clearing.

  Rook stared at him in confusion and worry over the wildness of Ellis’s appearance.

  “Who?” Rook asked. “No one showed up. I found a code, Handsome. I think it leads to the gem.”

  “That doesn’t bloody matter right now,” Ellis said. “I had some of our old contacts trying to find out where Leonard was. According to them, Leonard got a report from one of his lackeys—Talon, I think his name was.”

  Rook staggered. “Talon?” he repeated, thinking of the unsavory man he and Anne had encountered on their trip. “Jesus.”

  “You know the man?”

  “Anne and I encountered him on the road through Scotland,” Rook said. “The bastard felt foul. I should have listened to my gut.”