When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

  She no longer spoke in words, but instead in strange, unfamiliar noises she’d never thought her mouth could make. An all-together novel language of pleasure, which only she and he could understand. For when she was at the pinnacle—on top a great mountain, waiting to jump—he reached down and flicked his thumb against her bud.

  She shattered, ecstasy overwhelming her. A moment later, he too grunted, giving one last final push, spilling within her.

  It was done. She was ruined.

  Yet she did not feel ruined. She felt new, as if another woman had blossomed from trusting Charlie so entirely with her body, and taking what she wanted from him. As he hopped out of the bed to pull the sheets over them so that she would not be cold in the night, she considered this feeling abstractly. She had lived her whole life letting others decide her fate, but now she had made decisions—rescuing Charlie, making love to him—that were distinctly hers alone. She was not lacking, nor destroyed by the loss of her virginity.

  She was powerful.

  Perhaps she had always been so, and it had taken her extraordinary circumstances to comprehend it.

  Charlie came to rest beside her in the bed, swinging his arm around her. She scooted back, into him, loving the tangle of limbs they became when they lay like this, wrapped up in each other. She grabbed Charlie’s hand, entwining her fingers within it, letting out a happy sigh.

  This was the beginning of a life she had chosen for herself. A new identity. No longer Mina Mason, but Mina Thatcher, who made her own choices and stood up for those she loved.

  She knew now who she was supposed to be.

  Chapter 15

  They awoke the next morning, not to bright rays of sunshine heralding a new hope, but to the angry pound of fists upon their door. Charlie started, his sleep-addled brain struggling to put the facts together quickly. He remembered escaping the makeshift prison. Cyrus promising to meet them here. Proposing to Mina. Losing himself in her body, then falling asleep wrapped in her arms.

  The pounding continued, as Mina shifted beside him, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Why is Cyrus making such a racket?”

  At this point, the whole damn tenement was probably awake, which didn’t fit with the covert flight they’d discussed with her middle brother. A sinking feeling settled in Charlie’s stomach.

  A sinking feeling that became a two-ton boulder when that insistent slamming was followed by “Mina! Let me in!”

  Shit. Joaquin had found them.

  “If he’s harmed you, you needn’t be scared—” Another voice joined Joaquin’s outside, one Charlie didn’t recognize. “I’ll protect you, Mina. As my wife, you’ll be above scorn.”

  Shit. Bollocks. Hell. A litany of curse words pounded in Charlie’s mind as he looked from one corner of the room to the next, trying to locate their clothes. Only one other man thought he had claim to Mina as his wife.

  Donaldson was here too.

  He hopped out of the bed stark-naked, leaving the counterpane and sheets to cocoon around Mina, giving her some cover. They should have thought to redress last night, given Cyrus’s expected return. But they’d both been so bloody tired, and the slide of Mina’s bare body against his own as they drifted off to sleep had felt so good.

  He located Mina’s shirt and tossed it to her. She shrugged it over her head just in time, but he was not so fortunate. He managed to grab his breeches as a key turned in the lock. Then the door opened, with him one foot into his breeches, bare-arsed with his back to the door.

  At least it was his backside.

  But in that moment, any hope he’d ever had of getting Cyrus to accept him died.

  “Christ, Thatcher,” Cyrus bit out, and then their peaceful room was invaded.

  As Donaldson rushed into the room after Cyrus, Charlie pulled his pants on with lightning speed. He grabbed Mina’s borrowed breeches from the floor, tossing them to her. She opened her mouth to speak as she shimmied into the breeches underneath the covers, and he shook his head. If anyone was going to be blamed for this, it ought to be him.

  Only then did he turn around to confront the three intruders. Time seemed to slow, with everyone too surprised to form a coherent sentence. Mina stood on the far side of the room, by the bed. Charlie’s gaze darted from one man to the next, assessing each for possible threats.

  Cyrus took up a position by the window, his lips quirked into a smirk. He, unlike Joaquin, had held no false assumptions about what would happen between Charlie and Mina when left in a room together overnight. Charlie dismissed him for now, focusing on the other two men.

  Nigel Donaldson parked himself in front of the bed, staring in abject shock. His mouth kept closing and reopening, reminding Charlie of the salmon hooked in the Thames River, suffocating upon removal from the water.

  Joaquin had been the last to enter. He leaned against the closed door now, his coal-black brows creased with imperious disapproval, while his lips pressed into the thinnest of scowls. But it was the coldness of his bluish-green eyes, the intense, seething rage with which he regarded them, that made Charlie’s throat tighten.

  Charlie positioned himself in front of the bed, blocking the way to Mina. Instinctively, he slid into a fighter’s stance—nondominant leg in the lead, hips turned out ever so slightly.

  He knew without Joaquin ever saying a word that escaping from this room unscathed would be close to impossible.

  The world sped up, the awkward, stifling silence pierced by an animalistic howl from Donaldson. The man hurled himself at Charlie, hands outstretched, shoving into him. Charlie twisted his hips, the attack landing upon his shoulders with little power behind it. Donaldson’s arms flailed ineffectively, his eyes bulging with fury.

  “How could you do this, Mina?” Donaldson demanded, his face a disturbing shade of reddish purple. “You would have wanted for nothing as my wife. You think this—this—this gutterjohn will keep you in the life you’re used to?”

  Charlie started to go for Donaldson. Mina laid her hand on his arm, stopping him.

  “You wanted a doll, not a wife.” She notched her chin up, her voice cold. “I never wanted to marry you, and I will not be privy to your fraud.”

  “You ungrateful little wench. Your family will live to regret this.” Donaldson’s whole body began to shake, but Mina did not back down.

  Charlie had never seen a woman look so regal in a borrowed men’s suit, her dark hair unbound and mussed from their lovemaking.

  Mina tried to advance upon Donaldson, but Charlie held her back, not liking the wild look in the man’s eyes. “Charlie is ten times the man you are, and I’m devilishly proud he ruined me. Better him than you.”

  That last word, dropped from her lips with a haughty sneer, sent Donaldson reeling over the edge. Spit flung from his mouth as he screamed, “You’ve turned her into a whore!”

  That was it. Charlie’s control snapped.

  He’d given Joaquin and Cyrus more than enough time to resolve this peacefully, and they’d remained silent. When Donaldson rushed at him again, Charlie pivoted, leading with his leg out. His arm sliced down, wrist straight, his tight fist smacking into Donaldson’s neck. As the other man fell, he tripped over Charlie’s foot, toppling hard. His head smacked against the edge of the bed, and down he went.

  Cyrus stretched out his foot, nudging Donaldson. When he received no response from the prone financier, he nodded in approval. “Be a lamb and toss him out, would you, Thatcher?”

  Kneeling down, Charlie wrapped his arms around Donaldson’s armpits, dragging him from the room. He leaned the bounder up against the wall in the hall and then re-entered the room. Closing the door behind him, he started to cross back over to Mina when Joaquin’s arm connected with his bare chest, holding him back.

  Charlie came to a complete stop. He would not fight Joaquin. Even if he thought he could gain the advantage, a small part of him still hoped—perhaps fruitlessly—that he’d someday earn the respect of Mina’s brothers.

  “Put on a shirt.
It’s bad enough you defiled my sister. I shouldn’t have to look at your pedestrian branding, as if you were an errant steer.” Joaquin’s lips drew back, showcasing his white teeth. “How loyal will they be to you now, Chapman, when I return you to them?”

  “You wouldn’t.” Mina advanced upon her brother, as Cyrus leaned down, picking up Charlie’s shirt from the floor.

  The pugilist tossed it at him, snorting when the shirt smacked him in the face. Quickly, Charlie tugged the shirt over his head. He turned to face Joaquin, meeting the gang leader’s cold glare. He would not be intimidated.

  “You do what you gotta do, but I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Charlie went toward Mina again. When Joaquin didn’t make a move to stop him, he crossed the room, coming to stand next to her. He swung his arm around her, tucking her against his side. “My place is here, with her.”

  Joaquin’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really believe that? When you’re the reason she was attacked in the first place? When you bed her knowing she’s promised to another?”

  “That bounder?” Charlie gestured toward the hall, where Donaldson lay unconscious. “You think he’s deservin’ of Mina, but not me. Why? Because he’s got money?”

  Joaquin didn’t dignify his comment with a response.

  Charlie shook his head. “Aye, Joaquin, a part of me always admired you, thinkin’ you were better than them toff pricks. I was wrong.”

  “I would watch your tone, boy.” Joaquin’s voice had dipped to lethal lows. That same commanding tone had made famous across the rookeries, but it would not work today. “Come, Mina. If I pay off Donaldson, I should be able to salvage what little is left of your reputation.”

  “No.” The sharpness of Mina’s voice was a cracking whip, snapping Joaquin’s head up. “I won’t go with you, and I won’t let you determine my life for me anymore. You lost that right when you offered me up to Donaldson, as if I was nothing more than a choice fruit to sweeten your business deal.”

  Irritation flashed across Joaquin’s face, swiftly smoothed into his usual impassivity. “You cannot possibly expect me to allow this. You are a Mason. The world is at your feet, and you want to run off into the sunset with a man with tuppence to his name? A man so reviled his own gang doesn’t want him.”

  Charlie knew well how Joaquin had risen to power: he had the uncanny ability to sense an opponent’s weakness, and then he went at it like a bulldog with a bone. Again, Mina’s hand landed on his arm, holding him back. He pushed down the desire to lunge for Joaquin and wipe the smirk off his polished face.

  He would wait, and he would fight with words instead of fists, because Mina wanted him to.

  But that didn’t mean he had to like the fucker.

  So he let his lips twist in a sneer of his own, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “I’m marryin’ your sister. You can be happy for us, or you can go to the devil.”

  Joaquin snorted. “It is tiresome to argue with someone lacking wits. Cyrus, do what you do best. Perhaps when our dear sister sees her beau writhing on the ground in pain, she will realize how much he is beneath her.”

  Charlie steeled himself for the inevitable hit. But Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest, staying put.

  “Afraid I’m not gonna do that, Quin,” Cyrus said, with a glance toward Mina. “Think you knew that when you came here, didn’t you? ’Tis why you allowed Donaldson to come too.”

  “Perhaps,” Joaquin replied, noncommittally.

  “As if Donaldson would convince me to go back with him,” Mina scoffed.

  Cyrus leaned back against the wall, his posture easy, as though he had all the time in the world. Restlessly, Charlie wished he’d get on with it—either help them flee, or make a move. He needed action.

  “I helped Charlie escape.” Cyrus stated this flatly. “You knew that already, didn’t you?”

  Joaquin nodded.

  “Thought so.”

  “Why?” Joaquin demanded, his attention fixed so squarely on his brother now that Charlie wondered if they could slip out of the room unnoticed.

  “Was the right thing to do.” Cyrus shrugged. “Man shouldn’t die for something he didn’t do. Especially when we were planning to kill McNair.”

  Mina stiffened. He drew her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned back against him, letting out a sigh.

  Soon, she wouldn’t have to be exposed to such violence.

  Soon, she’d be free of this life.

  If it was the last damn thing he did.

  “I made my choice, Mason.” Charlie laid a kiss on top of Mina’s head. “Wherever she goes, I go. Time for you to make the same choice.”

  “This is what I want, Quin. I’m going to marry Charlie.” Mina’s determination made him so bloody proud of her—so honored to be the man she’d chosen. She was the fiercest of women, and he’d get to spend the rest of his life with her. “I don’t want to have to make a choice between you two, but I will. And you won’t like my decision.”

  Joaquin didn’t speak. For the first time in the thirteen years Charlie had known him, he appeared to be out of moves. The man who ruled by iron will had finally found someone he couldn’t sway: his own sister.

  “Times are changing, Quin.” Cyrus stepped forward, chucking his brother’s shoulder. “We change, or we get left in the dust. You taught me that.”

  Joaquin scowled. “This was not what I meant.”

  Cyrus shrugged again. “Rough hearing your words used against you, ain’t it?”

  Joaquin gave him such a withering look that Charlie had to fight the urge to snort.

  “Besides, what would anger Chapman more than you secreting Charlie out of town?” Mina suggested. “They wanted to kill him, and we Kings made sure that didn’t happen.”

  “We Kings?” Joaquin eyed her, that familiar cunning glint back in his eyes.

  “If you accept Charlie.” Mina broke free from him to stand by her brothers, and he watched her go, a smile upon his lips. God, she was unstoppable, and he’d never loved her more.

  “I do despise people who interfere with my plans.” Joaquin looked from one sibling to the other, beginning to yield to their united front. “McNair was supposed to be ours to kill. We deserved that vengeance after he tried to accost you.”

  “Damn right we did,” Cyrus grumbled.

  “You’ll need to leave town.” Joaquin tapped his chin, considering. “The money from your dowry ought to cover any expenses.”

  Cyrus grinned sheepishly. “Already gave it to them.”

  “That I will discuss with you later.” Joaquin frowned at Cyrus, before continuing on with his plan. “There’s a cottage in Deal I considered buying. Close to the ocean, good for smuggling. That’ll do.”

  “I’m gonna live honestly,” Charlie interjected. “No smugglin’ for me.”

  Joaquin’s nose wrinkled, and Cyrus scoffed. But Mina’s bright smile was all the validation he needed to know he’d made the right decision.

  “If you must,” Joaquin sniffed. “As soon as you’re safe, I’ll make it very clear to Chapman what happens when they mess with mine.”

  “Killed a few of their guards,” Cyrus contributed helpfully. “But the younger Baines wasn’t there. Any plans for him? His face irritates me. Could use punching.”

  This time, Charlie couldn’t hold back the snort. “Needs punching” was the best description for Jason Baines he’d ever heard.

  “I’m sure that can be arranged.” Joaquin’s eyes sparkled with the delight in a new plot, particularly one that would infuriate the members of Chapman. “I’d purchase a special license, but that would only alert those buffoons to our plans. You’ll go to Gretna Green.”

  Mina caught his eye, grinning widely. No one told Joaquin they’d already decided on this. It was easier when he thought it was all his idea.

  “You’ll go with them, Cyrus, to make sure nothing happens to Mina.” Joaquin’s gaze swept over to Charlie standing by the bed, giving the family their space. “Do try to watch ov
er him, too. If Chapman wanted him dead, then I want him living. It’ll infuriate Baines.”

  “And Donaldson?” Mina asked.

  “I’ll deal with him.” Joaquin’s jaw set. “No one calls my sister a whore and gets away with it.”

  Cyrus cracked his knuckles, his excitement almost palpable. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of letting the Met know the truth about his little scheme.” Joaquin’s lips curved into a calculating smirk. “But if you must beat him, I’m amendable to that as well.”

  “Thank you. Both of you.” Mina laughed, hugging her brothers. She waved Charlie over. As they finalized the details, he stood by her side, where he belonged.

  Two weeks later, they were married over the anvil in Gretna Green, with Cyrus standing by as witness. Though the ceremony had none of the extravagance Joaquin had planned for her wedding, it was everything Mina had ever wanted: with her brother by her side, she married the man she’d loved most of her life. Every hardship, and every sweet memory, had led to this one moment.

  A few hours later, when they’d bid goodbye to Cyrus and retired to their room in the nearby tavern, Charlie pulled her close. From his pocket, he dug out the good luck pebble, holding it out to her. “I love you, Mina Mason.”

  “Ahem.” She plucked the pebble from his palm, running her finger over the flat surface. “That’s Mina Thatcher now.”

  Charlie chuckled, placing a light kiss upon her nose. “I shall never err again, my good wife.”

  She winked at him, setting the pebble down on the table by the bed. “I can think of many, many ways you should prove that, my good husband.” Suiting her words with action, she pushed him down on the bed, climbing up on top of him. She kneeled in the space between his legs, her periwinkle skirts falling about her.

  He grinned devilishly at her, softly caressing her cheek before he pulled her down for a kiss. “What shall our legacy be now, Mrs. Thatcher?”