Waiting for a Rogue Like You (Rogues of Redmere)

by Samantha Holt

  Creases appeared between her brows. “How do you know people cooked for me?”

  He motioned to the mess. “That and the way you carry yourself. Not to mention that gown you were wearing yesterday. I know gowns, Princess, and that was no cheap garment.”

  “Oh yes, I imagine you do know gowns. No doubt you have stripped many of them from many a woman.”

  “Perhaps.” He smiled smugly.

  “You know why I am here, Drake,” she snapped. “I am here for my brother.”

  “All I am trying to say is be careful. Your breeding is obvious and while you can find charity in Louisa, not everyone is as honest or welcoming.”

  “I think I discovered that yesterday. Though I cannot fathom what category you fall into.”

  “Why, I am the dashing hero of course.”

  “And not the dishonest rogue?” She scraped off the charred bacon and loaded it onto a plate. Drake felt sorry for whoever was to eat those offerings.

  “I have been nothing but truthful.”

  “Do not fear, I know well of Cornwall’s reputation for housing some of the worst of society.”

  “Well, we are not all bad...”

  “Smugglers, thieves, pirates...they think they can do whatever they like because they are so far from London and the reach of the law.”

  “Oh, so you know a lot about smugglers?” He managed to mask a smile.

  “I’ve read books and I read the newspapers.”

  “And what do these books and newspapers say about smugglers?”

  “That they are the dirt of the earth. While our men are losing their lives to the French, these smugglers are taking advantage of the war and all the blockades. I think most of them would sell their own mothers.” The way her nose wrinkled in disgust as she finished loading up the plates with inedible food made him laugh.

  Her gaze met his. “You think it is funny what they do?”

  “I just think that perhaps you would think otherwise if you met a real smuggler? There is a difference between fact and fiction, Princess.”

  “I know that. But what of those who run whole towns? You cannot deny they exist. I have heard of them threatening locals with burning their houses or hurting their families if they say a word to the customs men.”

  “That does happen, yes, but it certainly does not happen here in Penshallow.”

  Those who knew of the smuggling turned a blind eye so there was little need for threats. As for the customs men, they could not find their own arses. Drake had suffered a few run-ins with them and there had been a couple of near misses, but none had any idea he and the Earl of Redmere had made a deal for him to ship goods in and out along with information and spies. The French saw them as nothing more than criminals—the perfect cover.

  Of course, if it was ever found out, Drake would likely hang for it, as the Crown would never acknowledge them. Red and Nate would probably be saved by way of their birth, however.

  Still, it was a risk he was happy to take. It beat sitting around, feeling sorry for himself since his injury.

  “Well, all I know is that I would never associate with such men.” She picked up three plates of food, balancing one precariously on an arm, and eyed him. “I must get this food to the men.”

  Drake stepped aside. “Far be it for me to get between men and their”—he glanced at the plates—“um, food.”

  Her eyes narrowed into slits. She went to move past him but the plate on her arm tipped. As she tried to stop it from tumbling to the floor, she tilted the plate in her hand, and the food slid to the floor. The other two plates followed, crashing to the wooden boards with a clatter.

  They both stared at the mess for a moment.

  “Oh no,” she wailed. “I shall never keep this job if Louisa discovers this.”

  He doubted Louisa would throw out a vulnerable woman, but this was in part his fault, seeing as he volunteered Julianna for this position. He shooed her back into the kitchen.

  “Start cooking again. I shall clear up this mess.” He bent to scrape up what food he could. “Go,” he motioned when she remained standing in the doorway.

  Julianna hastened into action, slapping food onto the pan. He would have to teach her how to cook too, by the looks of it. He found a mop and bucket and wiped away the worst of the mess before leaning over her shoulder to check on her progress.

  “That will do. Black is not the color you’re after,” he reminded her.

  She twisted her head. Her lips were mere inches from his. He could feel her breath on his skin and the scent of soap teased him. Drake glanced at her petal pink mouth and had to mask a groan. He saw her throat work and she whipped her head away.

  “Do you think?” she asked. “I was worried about it being raw.”

  He ignored the food. It was done—he did not even have to look. He eyed her profile and wondered what she would do if he looped his hands around her waist and drew her into him. She would feel how hard his cock was. Would it shock her?

  “Drake?”

  Easing back, he nodded. “It is done.”

  “Good.” She served up the food and opted to take only two plates this time. She avoided his gaze. “I...thank you,” she muttered as she moved past him into the inn.

  “You’re welcome, Princess,” he said under his breath while he turned to watch her serve the men.

  If she were any other woman, he would have her on her back and calling his name by now. Julianna Knight was a tough woman. How far could he push her, he wondered. He’d been looking for a distraction while waiting for their next mission. He suspected he’d just found it.

  Chapter Six

  Every part of her ached. Julianna straightened and pressed a hand to her lower back to try to ease the pain there. Her fingers felt raw and she had several small burns on her hands that made gripping the mop painful.

  “Are you sure you can manage?” Louisa asked, breezing into the kitchen to retrieve a handful of mugs.

  Julianna plastered on a smile and nodded. Louisa had been kind enough to ignore the burnt breakfasts and how terrible she had been at pouring ale and serving the patrons in a timely manner, the last thing she would do is complain about being asked to mop.

  “I am fine.”

  Louisa tilted her head and eyed her. “You’re not used to this work, are you?”

  Julianna opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure what to say.

  Louisa lifted her spare hand. “You do not need to spill any secrets to me. We women must stick together. But just know that if you need anyone to talk to, I am here.”

  Julianna smiled. “Thank you, I appreciate it. And I appreciate you taking me in.”

  The innkeeper shrugged. “Thank Drake, it was his suggestion.” She paused in the doorway. “Speak of the devil. He’s taken quite an interest in you.”

  Julianna debated hurrying away to hide but it was too late. Drake had entered the kitchen as Louisa hastened out of the door to continue serving. Julianna kept her gaze on the mop, dunking it into the water and smearing it in great puddles over the floor.

  She barely glanced at him. “It is a wonder Louisa allows you back here all the time.”

  Drake grinned. “What can I say? She likes me.”

  He had to be saying that to aggravate her. What little she had learned of Louisa, she had no time for lovers or men like Drake, who went from woman to woman if all she had been told was correct. Not that she needed to be told that. It had been obvious the moment she had laid eyes on him with those women of the night sprawled all over him.

  His blue gaze trailed over her and down to the floor. She dropped her gaze away and dunked the mop back into the bucket.

  “I think you have drowned the floor enough,” he teased.

  Ignoring him pointedly, she hefted the mop back out and scrubbed by him, letting the strands of rope slop over the toes of his boots.

  He jumped back. “Careful, Princess.”

  “If you do not wish to get wet, I think you should leave.”


  “I wanted to see how your first day went.”

  “It went just fine. Excellent even.”

  “Tell that to the floor.” He went to take the mop from her, but she darted out of the way. It had been humiliating enough that he’d had to help her with the morning meals, she was not going to let him mop too.

  “I suppose you are an expert in mopping.”

  “Yes, I think I am.”

  She paused and leaned against the handle of it. “You know how to mop?”

  “I do indeed.”

  Frowning at him, she scanned his appearance. His clothes were not cheap—his jacket tailored to fit him perfectly, his waistcoat trimmed with embroidery. Yet the way his sandy hair brushed his collar and the stubble that lingered on his chin said he was no nobleman. He’d said he’d been in the war, so he could be a second son, but his accent was slightly too rough for that. She had to admit, he had her intrigued.

  “What exactly do you do, Mr. Drake, if you know how to mop?”

  “I am simply a man of many talents.”

  Julianna propped the mop against the wall and folded her arms. He thought himself so roguish, she just wanted to wipe that smile from his face.

  “I do not think you are as mysterious as you think you are. You are probably a...a lawyer.” She nodded. “Yes, you help criminals go free or aid rich men in hiding their wealth.”

  His lips curved. “Incorrect.”

  “Very well, not a lawyer.” She eyed him. “You are a card sharp. You steal money from unwitting men. It is why you spend so much time here.”

  “Did you see a pack of cards in my hands last night? Besides, I am terrible at cards.”

  “He admits he has flaws. A miracle.” She sucked in a breath. “You are an accountant. A dry, boring accountant who cannot stand his job, so he spends his time in the inn, pretending to be something he is not.”

  Drake took a step toward her, his boots making a splashing across the floor. “Wrong again.”

  The arrogance of his expression made her clench her fists. Blast, all she wanted to do was get the better of him. She pressed a finger to her lips.

  “I know! You’re a highwayman. You prey on the rich at night and that is why you were here so late last night.”

  A brow lifted. “Really?”

  Julianna huffed. “Fine, not a highwayman.”

  He moved closer again. Though she was not a short woman, he dwarfed her. His shoulders were wide, and his arms filled his jacket amply. Whatever he did, it kept him in fine shape. Too fine. No wonder he’d had women crawling over him last night. He was far too handsome for his own good.

  “Ah, I know it. This roguish act is just that—an act. You are really a customs man, trying to break a smuggling ring.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Not even warm.”

  No, but she was. Warm all over. From her fingers that had been cold only moments ago from the wet mop to her toes. She felt it pool in her cheeks at the proximity of him. He was too close, too handsome. His blue eyes had flecks of gold around the edges and some of his stubble was white just around his lips. Her fingers flexed with the need to touch said stubble.

  “I give up then,” she declared, the words too ragged for her liking. “I do not know why you need to be so secretive.”

  “I did not think you were the sort of woman to surrender so easily.” He moved until there was almost no space between them.

  “I am not surrendering!” Julianna stepped back, and her bottom bumped into the table. He stalked her steps.

  “Retreating then.”

  She straightened her posture and met his gaze square on. “Never.”

  Drake moved to close the gap. His body pressed into hers. Hard thighs flattened against her. Eyes wide, she held her breath when he brought a finger to her chin and lifted it so she could not escape the depth of his eyes. They seemed to dig into her chest and make her heart race.

  Her dry mouth refused to let her form words and her frozen body would not move.

  “Why are you so angry with me, Princess? I was your rescuer, was I not?”

  Her mind had become an empty plain of nothingness, as barren as the wilds of Northumberland. Her knees trembled, and her tongue felt too thick. Why was she angry with him? Why was she determined to find fault with him? She could not recall anymore.

  He leaned in, letting his breath touch her lips. He was going to kiss her. A flurry of panic exploded through her and she ducked away, pushing his body back forcefully with both palms.

  Now she remembered why. He was a charmer and a rogue—willing to kiss a woman he hardly knew.

  As she darted past, her footing gave way on the sodden floor. It happened all too quickly. The world tilted away, and she landed with a splash in the bucket. Water soaked her skirt and trickled down her legs.

  Drake’s eyes were wide and his mouth ajar for a mere moment before he burst into laughter, clutching at his sides. Julianna scowled at him and fought to stand. The wet floor and the hold the bucket had on her bottom made it almost impossible. Heat burned her face.

  He wiped a tear from his eye and held out a hand. “Allow me.”

  She slapped the hand away and managed to haul herself up by grabbing the nearby table edge.

  “I suppose you think that’s funny.” Her chin trembled. She pushed a strand of hair from her face, too aware of how her skirts stuck to her legs, making her feel uncomfortable and foolish.

  “You would laugh if it was the other way around, you must admit.” He pressed his lips together.

  “Get out.” she ordered, thrusting a finger to the doorway. “Get out! I never want to see you again.”

  Whirling before he could respond, she marched upstairs and changed into another gown with trembling hands. Thankfully, Louisa had been kind enough to let her have time to fetch her meagre belongings from the other inn. She did not have much, but she had enough to keep her warm and clothed. Leaving home in such a hurry had left her with little time to pack.

  She tugged out a gown and stripped the soaked one off, flinging it over the back of a chair. Thrusting her arms into the sleeves, she fought to do it up in the dingy mirror hanging from one wall. Normally she had someone do this for her. Ladies maids had come and gone thanks to her father’s picky and horrible behavior, so she had never become attached to one of them, but she did miss the help.

  Who did that man think he was? Why did Drake think he could come into her life and laugh at her and...and try to kiss her? She eyed her reflection and attempted to smooth her hair back from her face.

  Drake already knew so much of her. Well, perhaps he did not know she had a ranking. That she was indeed as well-bred as he’d assumed and that her brother would one day inherit a penniless viscountcy. But he knew more of her than she did him and that mysteriousness that he insisted on surrounding himself with aggravated her. It left her on the weaker footing and she did not much like that.

  There was only one way to counter a man like Drake, and that was with knowledge.

  Julianna snatched up her pelisse and buttoned it up before staring at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair had never looked so wild, even after travelling across half of the country. She shook her head at herself. What was she doing? Why did that man aggravate her so?

  She hurried downstairs and stepped into the taproom. Louisa stood behind the bar.

  “Is Drake still here?”

  Louisa eyed her appearance with a lifted brow but did not comment on it. “He left just a moment ago. With his tail between his legs by the looks of it.”

  Julianna released an unladylike snort. “I doubt that.” She finished buttoning her jacket. “Do you mind if I just pop out for a moment? I think I left something at the inn. I have finished cleaning the kitchen.”

  “Of course not, you have worked hard today. Though, you might want to be careful, Julianna. It’s not safe out there at this time of night. Unless of course you run into a protector...one who goes by the name of Drake perhaps?”<
br />
  “I—” Julianna did not know how to defeat the knowing look in Louisa’s eyes, so she did not even try to defend herself. “I must go.”

  A blast of frigid air struck her face as she stepped out into the night. She was a fool, no doubt. The man did not even warrant following but she could not help herself. He was too secretive, too smug. She was beginning to doubt he even knew her brother and was simply toying with her. She would not tolerate his teasing any longer. She had to find out the truth.

  Chapter Seven

  Drake silently cursed the seagull that squawked above his head. He rubbed a hand across his face and sidestepped the lobster pots spread across the harborside. Ripe with the scent of fish, the harbor was busy with movement, men and women bustling along the stone side, sorting the day’s catch. He envied their energy. He had none.

  After an evening drinking at The Royal Oak, a tavern far less desirable than the Ship, he’d opted to remain at his room there. The bed had been hard and the building noisy. The constant sound of chatter and crashing had meant little sleep, leaving him on edge.

  He grimaced and headed for the ship, its masts visible over the tiny fishing boats that gathered. Merchant ships docked at Penshallow with surprising regularity, giving its size as a village, but the harbor was one of the larger ones in Cornwall and its proximity to the main towns like Truro made it ideal for bringing goods into the area. It meant his ship did not normally stand out too much, but, at present, it was the only one docked.

  Frowning, he quashed a yawn, and eyed the fellow pacing in front of the ship. Drake had stopped by last night but with the mood he was in, he did not much fancy sleeping in the captain’s quarters. Not to mention memories of the previous night still lingered. Bloodied dagger tips and flying fists sat behind his eyelids. Those sorts of memories and sleeping on a ship did not combine well. He’d normally opt to stay at the Ship on nights like that, as he had done on the night of the storm, but after Julianna had practically banished him, he thought it best to let her calm down.