A Reckless Runaway

by Michaels, Jess

  A Reckless Runaway

  Jess Michaels

  Copyright © 2020 by Jess Michaels

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Excerpt of A Counterfeit Courtesan

  Also by Jess Michaels

  About the Author

  Prologue

  It should have been the happiest time in Anne Shelley’s life. That was what everyone around her said, from her maid to her friends to her sisters. The happiest time, for she was just one month from her wedding to an earl. And not even one of the older earls who circulated through parties and drooled over the debutantes. A young one who, Anne supposed, was tolerably handsome if looked at in the right light.

  She was just weeks away from her wedding and she should have been happy. But she wasn’t. Not in the slightest. Panicked? Yes. On the edge of breakdown? Always. But happy…not at all.

  “Are you Miss Anne?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of her intended’s voice. Slowly she turned to face him, the Earl of Harcourt. His dark brown eyes flitted over her briefly, then away as he held out a glass of wine for her.

  “Yes,” she answered. Harcourt never knew who she was. He couldn’t tell her apart from her sisters Juliana and Thomasina. They were triplets and she’d spent her life correcting those around her about her identity.

  But somehow she’d always dreamed that the man she’d married would see her just for…for herself. That he would instinctively recognize her in a crowd even if she were standing in between her sisters wearing the exact same gown.

  Harcourt didn’t. And it was disappointing. As was the silence that now rose up between them while they stood overlooking the ball.

  “How do you find Harcourt Heights now that you’ve been here a few days?” the earl asked.

  Anne barely held back a sigh. It was a reasonable question. After all, this shire and Harcourt’s manor in its center, Harcourt Heights, were to be her home now. She wanted to like it.

  “It’s very…fair,” she muttered into her glass. “A bit remote for my taste.”

  Harcourt’s mouth thinned. “Well, I’m certain you will find plenty to tempt you back to London, since your sisters will be there.”

  He glanced across the room where Juliana and Thomasina stood with their father. There was something in the glint of Harcourt’s eyes as he looked at them. Some little flash of the passion Anne had longed for all her life. But then it was gone. Anne had imagined it, of course. Harcourt never displayed passion, after all. She doubted he had an ounce of it in his body, nor humor, nor anything but strict responsibility and rules.

  He would have been better suited to either of her sisters. But here they were. She knew why her father had chosen her to wed first.

  “I find myself a bit warm,” Anne said with a glance over her shoulder to the terrace doors. “I think I’ll step outside for a moment.”

  Harcourt nodded. “Of course. But when you return, I think we should dance. This gathering is for us and those at the assembly hall are our neighbors, friends and tenants. They would like to see us exhibit.”

  Exhibit. Yes, that’s what it was, after all. This entire marriage was an exhibition. Not driven by emotion or desire, but a union of a far more practical bent.

  She nodded, barely holding back the tears that suddenly choked her throat and blurred her vision. As he turned away, just as disinterested as she was, she fled, making her way to the terrace before anyone could stop her and see the truth in her eyes. The utter misery.

  She shut the door behind her and glanced around to see if she was alone. When she found she was, she rushed to the farthest corner from the door and bent her head. The tears came then, hot against her cheeks.

  “There is no escape for me,” she whispered, to remind herself of that fact as much as anything else. “I must accept this. I…I must.”

  “That sounds very dire.”

  She jolted at the masculine voice that came from behind her. Pivoting, she faced its owner and jolted to find he was standing just two long steps behind her, watching her. He was an exceptionally well-favored man. He was tall, with broad shoulders, dark hair that was a little too long and rakishly mussed. His eyes were what drew her in, though. They were blue. Shockingly blue. Ice blue.

  She realized she had been staring at him for who knew how long, and she turned her face to gather herself, even as she quickly glanced at the stranger from the corner of her eye. “I beg your pardon, sir. It is very rude to eavesdrop.”

  He arched a brow and grinned, popping a dimple in his cheek that was just as attractive as anything else about him. “Can someone eavesdrop into a conversation a lady is having with herself?”

  She frowned and worried the cross necklace she wore. “I think someone can eavesdrop on any conversation that he isn’t invited to be a part of.”

  His lips thinned a little, hardening as if he was irritated by that answer. But then the expression softened and he shrugged. “I suppose I should apologize.”

  She paused, waiting for him to do so, but he didn’t. Instead he sidled up to her without invitation and placed his hands on the terrace wall next to hers. She jolted at the sudden invasion of her space, at the heat this man seemed to emanate. She’d never felt anything like it. She inched away as she turned to look out over the garden behind the assembly room.

  “You are Miss Anne Shelley,” he said matter-of-factly.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I-I am, yes.” She wrinkled her brow. “Did we…did we meet earlier tonight?”

  She didn’t think they had. One wouldn’t so quickly forget the handsome hulk of a man standing beside her. One who was watching her from the corner of his eye with a bit more directness than was proper, especially if he knew her name and the fact that she was engaged to someone else.

  “We didn’t exactly meet,” he said with another one of those dimpled smiles.

  She faced him now. “I see. It seems you will play a little game with me by not telling me exactly how you know who I am.”

  He tilted his head. “Playing games is my specialty.”

  There was a flutter of something in her belly. Something she hadn’t felt for a very long time, not since her engagement to Harcourt. This flirtation, for that was what she had to call the exchange, brought her back to London and the fun she used to have when she was carefree.

  She found she liked returning there, if only for a brief moment.

  “Am I to guess?” She placed a finger to her lips as if to consider. “I saw you in a shop in town? Or perhaps you are a friend of a friend I met in passing long ago? Oh…wait…are you a highwayman? Have I seen your picture on wanted posters all over the countryside?”

  He laughed, and her cheeks warmed with pleasure. It was in her nature to make little jokes, but Harcourt never laughed at them like this man just had.
He was far too serious a person in general.

  “You are close on one of those counts,” the stranger said. “But I won’t tell you which one.”

  “That hardly seems fair,” Anne said.

  “Life isn’t fair, my lovely lady,” he drawled, and her heart fluttered again at the improper endearment. “I will tell you my name, though. Ellis Maitland, at your service.”

  She bobbed out a playful curtsey. “Miss Anne Shelley, but you already knew that.”

  He nodded. “I did, indeed. Perhaps I’ll give you a hint as to which guess is right if you agree to see me again.”

  All the playfulness left her body as she stared up at this stranger, this Ellis Maitland. “I-I am engaged. You must know that.”

  “I know that fact very well.” He stepped a little closer, and once again she had the sensation of her personal space being invaded. She ignored the instinct to step back and held her ground as she stared up at him.

  “Then you know I cannot meet with you,” she whispered. “It would be wrong.”

  “Wrong and right are slippery things, Anne,” he said. “Now, is it wrong to meet with a friend?”

  She swallowed at the question, which wasn’t a fair one, and they both knew it. “Of course not.”

  “Then I’d like to be your friend. Your Harcourt has a pretty little pond on his estate, west of the main house. Meet me there tomorrow at two. I know a young lady like yourself would be able to figure out how to escape all the barriers put in place to keep you from what you truly want. You can call it a game if it soothes your conscience.”

  She worried her lip as she turned away. “I don’t know,” she whispered, thinking of the scandal. Thinking of how wrong his suggestion was.

  He was quiet a moment, long enough that she faced him. His face had hardened and he shrugged. “Very well then, Miss Shelley. Just go ahead and accept that there is no escape for you.”

  She turned her face as her own words returned to slap her. That was what she feared, wasn’t it? No escape. This interesting, clearly dangerous man was offering her a brief moment of just that. What was the harm in one last taste of freedom? Once she was wed, she’d never see it again.

  “I-I will find a way to meet you tomorrow,” she whispered.

  He smiled, somewhat smug, as if he’d always known he would bend her to his will. And then he tipped his hat and strolled away into the darkness of the corner of the terrace. She tilted her head. Where was he going? There was no entryway back into the ball from there.

  She moved toward the darkened corner and blinked. He had vanished! She stared down below at the garden ten feet down. There was the faintest flash of movement toward the woods.

  He had jumped over the terrace.

  A thrill worked through her as she turned toward the ballroom. Inside she could see Harcourt speaking to her sister Thomasina, whose hands were fluttering around her like a nervous little bird.

  To meet another man behind her fiancé’s back was wrong, so very wrong, no matter what Ellis Maitland said about the fluid nature of such things. But she was going to do it anyway because it was her last chance to have an adventure. A last chance to have a little fun.

  And she would stay in control of herself and the situation. So what could go wrong?

  Chapter 1

  One month later

  Rook Maitland smoothed the edge of his blade along the wooden block, cutting away the unwanted splinters as he transformed the piece into a carving he could be proud of. It wasn’t the original purpose for his knives, but he had adjusted in the last year. In more than one way.

  “What a waste of your talents, cousin.”

  Rook froze at the voice behind him. It was familiar, despite his not having seen its owner for many months. He slowly rose to his feet, setting down the knife and the wood fragment before he turned to face his very much unwanted guest. The one who had been so silent in his approach that even Rook’s trained ears hadn’t detected him. But then, Ellis Maitland had always been deadly like that.

  Part of why Rook hadn’t seen him for so long.

  He looked his cousin up and down. His appearance was exactly the same. Somehow that was both frustrating and comforting. Frustrating because he felt like Ellis should have aged as punishment for all he’d done in the not-so-distant past. Comforting because at least the man was alive.

  “What are you doing here, Handsome?” he asked, reverting to Ellis’s street nickname. One earned from years of seducing unassuming women out of fortunes and smallclothes.

  Ellis had been smiling, but now the expression fell and a dangerous glint lit his gaze as he stepped farther into Rook’s workshop. “That’s some welcome for your partner.”

  Rook shook his head. “Former partner,” he corrected softly. “I’m out of your game, Handsome. You know why.”

  Ellis took another long step toward him and Rook stepped back out of habit, shifting his weight in preparation for an attack. Ellis stopped advancing and looked at him like his motion was a betrayal. For a moment his entire life led at his cousin’s side flashed through Rook’s mind. The good and the very bad. And he mourned all that could have been and would never be.

  “You’re out of the game but still benefitting from it,” Ellis said softly.

  “I suppose I am,” Rook agreed, and ignored the twinge of guilt that accompanied the admission.

  Yes, his ill-gotten gains, saved up for years, now paid for the life he led here in the wilds. He hated himself for it. And yet he didn’t stop. He didn’t give it away. So perhaps he deserved Ellis’s censure.

  “Why are you here?” he repeated, sharper than the first time he asked the question.

  “I need your help,” Ellis said.

  Rook arched a brow. There was a slight desperation to his cousin’s tone, even if his body language remained cool and unaffected. That never led to good. Ellis was uncontrollable enough when he wasn’t desperate. “No.”

  Ellis lunged forward and caught his arm before Rook could dodge the motion. He supposed it was done to prove Ellis could get to him. But it was also to plead. To beg.

  “No one will get hurt this time, I swear to you,” Ellis said.

  Rook thought of the life the two of them had led on the streets. He remembered no other, in truth. Robbing, swindling, lying and cheating had been his life since he was old enough to understand the meaning of hunger.

  “I’m not sure that was ever true, Ellis,” he whispered.

  Ellis’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t get noble now, cousin. Not when you have as much of a past as I do. I need your help. I’m your blood—are you really going to turn your back on me?”

  Rook yanked his arm free of Ellis’s grip and paced away, running a hand through his hair. His cousin’s desperation was dangerous, indeed, but at least if Rook helped him, perhaps he could temper it. Make sure his promise not to hurt anyone was kept this time.

  It wasn’t as if Ellis would leave him alone anyway. Once he had a plan, there was never anything that could stop him. One way or another, Rook would be dragged into it. At least this way he could set his terms.

  He folded his arms as he faced Ellis and met his gaze evenly. “What is it you want me to do?”

  “Nothing difficult,” Ellis said with relief on every line of his face. “Just meet me in Beckfoot in three days’ time.”

  “Beckfoot?” Rook repeated with a tilt of his head.

  “It’s just across the sea. You’ll only be gone from Scotland and your precious island for a day at most.” Ellis shook his head. “Don’t you hate it here?”

  “I do not,” Rook said with no further explanation. “How do you think I’ll get there? It’s over a week’s ride in the best of conditions, and in Scotland it’s never the best of conditions.”

  “I’ve hired a boat for you to come and to go back. It’s all paid. It’s a few hours across the inlet. You just have to board it in three days when he comes to your little dock.” Ellis eased forward. “Please.”

  “There�
��s obviously a great deal more to do than what you’re explaining. What’s your angle, cousin?”

  Ellis hesitated a moment, more of that desperation entering his gaze. He opened and shut his mouth, like he was struggling with the explanation. Then his face hardened. “I’m just trying to get back something that was taken from me. That’s all. I need your help in Beckfoot. Will you come?”

  Rook sighed. This was his cousin, a man more like his brother. Ellis could be a rabid dog, but he had once been more. Once he had been Rook’s hero, by action and by reputation. And it was for that reason that he nodded. “I’ll do it. But you listen to me, Handsome. This is the last time. I don’t want to see you here again asking me for favors.”

  Ellis swallowed. “It’s the last time. I swear on my life. If I manage this deal, I’ll settle down like you have. You won’t have me darkening your doors again, I swear it.” He reached out a hand. “See you in Beckfoot.”

  With great reluctance, Rook shook the offered hand. “In Beckfoot. Three days.”

  His cousin gave a half-hearted salute as he ducked his way out of the workshop. Rook didn’t have to follow to know Ellis would have already vanished into the trees.

  He sighed as he retook his seat in front of the whittling materials. He no longer felt like using his knives. He was too concerned about what he’d just agreed to. Because it could lead to no good.

  * * *

  Anne stood at the fireplace in her future husband’s fine parlor, watching anything but the man beside her. She couldn’t look at Harcourt, not when her mind was spinning with such wretched choices.