The Rebel

by C. J. Archer

  Lord Coleclough shook his head. He looked so old and frail, it was difficult to reconcile this man with the one Nick had talked about. "I hid her away in the wood because she tried to take your life twice more, and I was terrified that one day the maids wouldn't be there and couldn't save you. I had to get her away from you, and the old woodsman's cottage seemed perfect. I hired Carter too to oversee arrangements. It was the only way to keep you safe without banishing her from the estate entirely. I couldn't do that. She was my wife. Lady Coleclough." He shrugged, as if that explained his reluctance.

  "She didn't try to return to the main house?" Lucy asked.

  "She did, twice. The first time, I simply sent her back to the cottage. The second time, I had Carter beat her. It was the only thing she understood. She didn't try again."

  "You had her beaten," Nick said, voice dark. "You could think of no other way?"

  "What was I to do? She wanted to kill my son! Should I have tried to talk her out of it? Do you think that would have worked?"

  Nick and Thomas exchanged grim glances.

  "Is that why you ordered the boys not to leave the property?" Lucy asked. "Were you afraid they'd wander into the wood and find her?"

  "Yes. She would have killed Nick if she'd seen him. I didn't know if she wanted to harm Thomas too, but I wasn't willing to wait and see. So I kept them at home. It was easy enough when you were small, Nick. You hardly went anywhere, or wanted to. But as you grew, I had to give strict orders. The villagers didn't know what had happened to Maria, but there was talk of the witch in Bowen Wood, and I knew you'd try to learn more if you spoke to them. You were always so curious and clever, both of you. But you, Nick, were defiant whereas Thomas was not. By the time you were eighteen, a grown man, you were strong enough in body and mind to defy my orders outright.

  "Even Carter's whippings didn't stop you. You still went into the wood. The second time…" His mouth twisted. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "The second time, Carter went too far. I…allowed him to. I was sick afterward when I realized how much damage he'd inflicted."

  Lucy's hand tightened around Nick's. He was quite still, his head bowed.

  "You were very headstrong," the baron said. "You had decided that your mother needed saving, and so you went to save her. But she hadn't given up on her intent to take your life. She poisoned you."

  Nick frowned, nodded, his gaze on his father but his focus more distant. "I was ill for days afterward. The broth?"

  "I suspect so. I couldn't keep Maria in the cottage after the village boys had seen her there, so I brought her back to the Hall and kept her locked away in her apartments. I admit I didn't know what to do." He wiped his brow with the heel of his hand. "I told Thomas everything while you were recuperating. It was he who suggested she wanted to end your life, so she could take you with her."

  "With her?"

  "To heaven, hell, or wherever she was going in death."

  "Oh my," said Lucy. "She loved you after all, in her own way."

  "Her own mad way," Lord Coleclough said. "She tried to kill one of the maids one day when Nick was almost fully recovered. Thomas reached her first, then Nick and I."

  "She was going to kill me," Thomas said. "Nick saved me."

  "By taking her life," Nick whispered.

  Thomas gripped Nick's shoulders and peered into his eyes. "You saved me, Brother. Do not think otherwise. You had no choice."

  "There is always a choice."

  "No." Lucy slipped her arm around his waist. "There isn't. You cannot be blamed for saving your brother from a madwoman."

  "Our mother," he said, voice thick.

  "Our mad mother," Thomas said.

  "You're a good boy, Nick," Lord Coleclough said. "You always were. I should not have let Carter whip you. I should never have let you think any of this was your fault. Perhaps some of the blame should lie at my feet, but I am certain that none of it should lie at yours." He pushed himself out of the chair and shuffled over to Nick. Thomas stepped aside and let their father face his younger son. "I'm sorry. I suppose I could have been a better father, but I…" His nostrils flared the way Nick's did when he was trying to stifle his emotions. "I did what I thought was right at the time."

  Nick seemed to be studying the floor as if he'd lost something there and needed to find it.

  Please say something, Lucy silently begged. Forgive him. She released his hand, and he turned his head a little to see her. She winked and to her great surprise, he winked back.

  "It's been a long day," Nick said, resting his hand on his father's shoulder. "I need a drink. Will you join us in the taproom?"

  Lord Coleclough's mouth twitched into a small smile. He breathed deeply and the smile widened. "I'm parched."

  "As am I," said Thomas.

  Lucy knew enough about men and families to know that all was forgiven as best as it ever could be. The rift might remain raw for some time, but the healing had begun. It only remained to be seen if healing this wound could heal all, and Nick could be hers again.

  "Will you be joining us, Mistress Cowdrey?" Thomas asked.

  "Of course she will," Lord Coleclough said.

  "We'll meet you down there," Nick said. "In a moment or two."

  His father cocked an eyebrow. "Take as long as you need."

  Thomas scooped up his father's hat and held the door open for him. Lucy watched them go, her heart in her throat. As soon as the door closed, Nick wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. His heart beat loud and fast. He kissed the top of her head, and plucked the pins out of her hair so that it tumbled down her back.

  "Are you all right?" she asked, peering up at him.

  His warm brown eyes swam. "That depends. Are you?"

  She cupped his face. "Of course."

  "Then so am I." He kissed her.

  It was sweet and a little timid, as if he were unsure of her feelings or afraid of hurting her. This big, fierce warrior of a man had turned as gentle as a puppy, and she adored him with every piece of her. She'd never been happier. Never thought such happiness could exist.

  He broke the kiss and got down on one knee. "Lucy Cowdrey, you've brought light into my world, and for that I cannot thank you enough." She opened her mouth to speak but he shushed her, so she began to cry instead. "I have to say this now, or I may never." He cleared his throat. "I have dark corners, Lucy, but the shadows recede a little more every day you are with me. I can't live without light. I can't live without you. Will you put up with me for the rest of our lives?" Her tears turned to laughter at his proposal, and he frowned. "Is that aye or nay?"

  "Aye! Aye! You big, lovely, wonderful fool. Get up. You're battered enough as it is without hurting your knees too."

  He rose and took her into his arms again. His heart had slowed to a steadier rhythm that was as strong as ever. "I'm sorry that wasn't very romantic. I don't know how… "

  "Hush. It was the most romantic proposal I've ever had."

  He narrowed his eyes, then he laughed. Laughed! It was the most wonderful sound. She'd missed it.

  "I'm sorry for so many things I said to you," he said, sobering. "I meant none of it."

  "I know. You were trying to do what you thought was best for me." She traced the curve of his mouth with her fingertip. "But Nick."

  "Yes."

  "From now on, I decide what is best for me."

  "The best for both of us. I'm going to need your advice on the farm."

  "What farm?"

  "The farm I'll either buy or lease." He sighed. "For once I wish I hadn't given away most of my wages. I'll ask Hughe for a loan, and we'll settle near here."

  "As long as we're together, I don't care where we go."

  He kissed her again, his mouth lingering and soft against hers. It tugged something inside her, deep down, something primal that made her want to take him right there in one of the Plough's rooms.

  "We mustn't," she said, pulling away with more than a little regret. "They'll b
e waiting for us."

  He groaned. "Cruel wench."

  ***

  Nick felt like a great weight had been lifted from him. He hadn't realized it before, but he'd never truly breathed until now. Lucy had accepted him. Him! And after all the things he'd said to push her away too. He'd need a lifetime to make up for saying them. He'd take that lifetime, and gladly.

  She was his.

  All was right in the world.

  If only Hughe wouldn't scowl at him like that. He sat on a stool in the taproom next to Monk, Henry, and Thomas. His father sat a little apart with Widow Dawson who inspected his crooked fingers.

  Monk signaled to Milner to bring more ale and the innkeeper had them on the table almost before Nick and Lucy sat.

  "How's your head, Cole?" Monk asked.

  "Better," Nick said. "Everything's better. And I'd like you to call me Nick from now on. Cole is no more."

  Monk nodded. Hughe merely sighed and drained his tankard. "I knew it," the earl muttered.

  "I'm leaving your employ."

  "I knew that too. Bloody hell."

  "Don't worry." Monk slapped him on the back. "You still have me."

  Hughe looped his arm around Monk's shoulders and grinned sloppily. "Thank God for that, my friend." Either he was drunk or he'd slipped back into dandy mode already.

  "Is there something you wish to tell me, Sis?" Henry said, eyeing Lucy.

  She reached for Nick's hand and smiled. "We're betrothed."

  A round of cheers, kisses, hugs, and good wishes followed, but Henry held back. He didn't seem unhappy, as such, merely thoughtful. When Widow Dawson and another of her friends cornered Lucy, Nick approached her brother.

  "I'll write to your father," he said. "Do you think he'll object?"

  "Not at all," Henry said.

  "I'll take good care of her. I know it'll be difficult for a few years, but once I can get the farm—"

  "What farm?"

  "I'll lease some land and graze sheep. The wool prices have been good in recent years."

  "No." Henry set his tankard down hard on the table. "I won't allow it."

  Nick ground his back teeth to stop from shaking the man. He would not allow anyone to stand in his way of wedding Lucy, and that included her brother. But he did want his blessing because it would hurt her deeply if they didn't get it.

  "You must," he said. "Please, Henry, for Lucy's sake. I know I'm not the man you would have chosen for her—"

  "It's not that! God's wounds, man, you're the only one for her. No, it's the farm. Take Cowdrey."

  "What!" Nick laughed. Henry didn't join in. Bloody hell, he wasn't jesting. "I can't take Cowdrey. It's your inheritance."

  "I don't want it. I want to study law."

  "Ah. Far be it from me to tell a man to go against his heart's desire, but I don't think your father would like the idea."

  "He'll get used to it. Instead of making the farm my inheritance, he can make it Lucy's dowry. I doubt he'll object. It'll stay within the family after all, and he wouldn't want you to begin your lives together with nothing."

  Nick blinked at his future brother in-law. "Are you sure?"

  Henry slapped him on the shoulder, and Nick winced as he struck a bruise. "I'm sure. Lucy, come here, your betrothed has something to tell you."

  Lucy slipped in beside Nick, a curious smile on her face. "Is it good news?" she asked, eyeing first Henry then Nick.

  "The best," Henry said and laughed. Nick couldn't recall having seen the man laugh once since they'd met.

  "I've already had the best news," she said, tightening her hold around Nick's waist. He kissed the top of her head and she smiled up at him. "Well? Don't keep me in suspense."

  "Your brother is going to return to London to study law, and we're going to live at Cowdrey Farm."

  Her jaw flopped open. "We're going to stay here?" She threw her arms around Nick's neck and kissed him hard, then she threw her arms around Henry and kissed his cheek. "Father is going to try to talk you out of it."

  Henry cocked his head to the side. "Mother will speak to him and all will be well."

  Lucy nodded and laughed, as if it were a known fact that their father would not go against their mother's wishes. Nick fingered a strand of Lucy's hair and smiled at her. He completely understood how a husband could be incapable of refusing his wife anything. There was not a thing in the world he wouldn't agree to if Lucy asked. Not a single thing.

  And that's just how he wanted it.

  THE END

  A message from the author:

  I hope you enjoyed reading THE REBEL as much as I enjoyed writing it. As an independent author, getting the word out about my book is vital to its success, so if you liked this book please consider telling your friends and writing a review at the store where you purchased it. If you would like to be contacted when I release a new book, please send an email to cjarcher.writes@gmail.com and I will subscribe you to my New Releases newsletter. You will only be contacted when I have a new book out.

  Other Books by C.J. Archer:

  The Charmer (Assassins Guild #1)

  The Wrong Girl (Freak House #1)

  Playing With Fire (Freak House Trilogy #2)

  The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #1)

  Possession (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #2)

  Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #3)

  The Charmer (Assassins Guild Novel #1)

  Her Secret Desire (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #1)

  Scandal's Mistress (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #2)

  To Tempt The Devil (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #3)

  Honor Bound (The Witchblade Chronicles Book #1)

  Kiss Of Ash (The Witchblade Chronicles #2)

  Courting His Countess

  Surrender

  Redemption

  The Mercenary's Price

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  C.J. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember. She worked as a librarian and technical writer until she was able to channel her twin loves by writing historical fiction. She has won and placed in numerous romance writing contests, including taking home RWAustralia’s Emerald Award in 2008 for the manuscript that would become her novel Honor Bound. Under the name Carolyn Scott, she has published contemporary romantic mysteries, including Finders Keepers Losers Die, and The Diamond Affair. After spending her childhood surrounded by the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, she now lives in suburban Melbourne, Australia, with her husband and their two children.

  She loves to hear from readers. You can contact her in one of these ways:

  Blog/web: http://cjarcher.com

  Email: cjarcher.writes@gmail.com

  Twitter: www.twitter.com/cj_archer

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CJArcherAuthorPage

  Look out for

  The Saint

  The third book in the ASSASSINS GUILD series.

  What happens when Monk comes face to face with the woman who rejected him? Find out in the next Assassins Guild book.

  To be notified when C.J. releases THE SAINT or any other new books, sign up to her newsletter. Send an email to mailto:cjarcher.writes@gmail.com

  In the meantime, have you read SURRENDER? Here's the description. Read on for an excerpt.

  Gentleman spy, Alexander Redcliff, murdered his colleague. It's an event he can't remember, except in his nightmares. Suppressing them is the only way to keep his sanity, but forgetting is no longer an option.

  Only one woman can save Alex from himself.

  Georgiana Appleby is a most unconventional lady. Prejudice shadows the physician and scandal is never far away. Forced to take Alex as her patient, she must not give into the rogue's advances or she will risk losing her career and her heart.

  Will Alex's fierce longing for Georgiana be enough or will he surrender to the darkness inside?

  An Excerpt from SURRENDER

  (c) C.J. Archer

  CHAPTER 1

  Georgiana Appleby ha
d the distinct impression she wasn't wanted at Mr. Alexander Redcliff's Mayfair townhouse. It wasn't that anyone said as much to her. Indeed, there was no one around at all to voice an opinion one way or another. It was more the lack of people that gave it away. Not a single maid or footman had entered the elegant drawing room in which Georgiana had been waiting for over twenty minutes. Redcliff himself certainly hadn't made an appearance and since he lived alone—servants notwithstanding—and was currently at home—she'd asked—it was clearly a snub.

  Being unwanted wasn't a new experience for Georgiana in her professional capacity as curer of opium addicts. Several of her patients reacted in a similar way to Mr. Redcliff when they learned she'd been commissioned by their loved ones. The difference with Mr. Redcliff was that it wasn't one of his loved ones who'd commissioned her. It was a public servant—the man who'd coordinated his spying activities, and therefore arguably the person responsible for Mr. Redcliff's current predicament.

  Perhaps there was a simple explanation for her abandonment, but Georgiana didn't think so. She was well aware of the tactics employed by recalcitrant patients and her employer had described Redcliff as the most stubborn man in his spy network. And the best.

  She took a turn about the room, admiring the twin blue and white Oriental jars on the mantelpiece and the other exquisite curios. She was studying a Paul Sandby watercolor when the door finally opened and the butler entered. He reminded her of a dying patient she'd met years earlier when assisting her father. The sharp angles of his cheeks cast shadows across skin the shade of death. His eyes, however, sparkled, softening the cadaverous effect.

  "My apologies for the delay, Miss Appleby," he said, bowing.

  "Is Mr. Redcliff available now?"

  The butler, Worth, lowered his gaze. "Not at present. He apologizes profusely for his absence."