As Rich as a Rogue

by Jade Lee

  Abruptly, Ellie sidled backward. “’E’s one of Silas’s boys. You don’t want to mess with ’im.”

  “Who is Silas?”

  Ellie frowned at her. “’E’s not a good man.”

  Mari took a moment to think, then she slowly pulled off her ear bobs. They were simple dark sapphires, tiny enough to match with her sedate image. She held them out to Ellie.

  “Tell me everything you know.”

  * * *

  Peter set down his drink and tried not to throw it against the wall in frustration. The ale here was lousy, the stench hideous, and worst of all, there was no point to being here. He understood the benefits of lying in wait, in listening to the grumbles of folk who had information he wanted. He knew he had to wait here for Silas or Tie or someone who knew something that would help him figure out what his father was up to. But so far, he hadn’t learned anything but that the barmaid would tup him for a penny, a half dozen cargos were being unloaded, and no one was paid enough.

  The idea that he had given up a night spent with Mari to fester in this shithole was enough to make his mood very, very foul.

  He stared at his drink, wondering if he could stomach another draught. Three new sailors came in, bursting with pay that they longed to spend, and the pair of thieves by the fire hunched closer together, no doubt planning the best way to rob the boys before they spent it all on drink.

  Then a voluptuous barmaid, with assets spilling out of her gown, slipped into the seat across the table from him. He sighed, unwilling to engage in enough conversation to send her away, when her scent teased his mind. Not a true scent, not in this morass of ale and piss, but a clean smell that might have had lemon in it, but certainly did not reek of the usual tavern wench. Which was why he lifted his gaze enough to see her face.

  Mari.

  Bloody hell.

  Questions crowded into his mind. How had she found him? Why was she dressed as a common tart, in clothes too bloody tight? And how the hell did he stop her from causing a riot when the three sailors took note of her assets?

  “Come over here,” he growled at her.

  She blinked at him. “What?”

  “Come over here,” he snapped. Then he shoved back his chair enough to give her room and patted his lap.

  She drew back, clearly shocked down to her toes. “I will not!”

  “If you’re dressed as a tart, then you’ll act the part. Unless you’d rather spend your time with them?” He jerked his chin at the meanest-looking huddle of men, all of whom had hard eyes that recognized she wasn’t typical in this place.

  “I’m not dressed as a—”

  “Mari, goddamn it, you’re going to get us both killed.” It wasn’t a lie. He’d seen worse in India. He caught her wrist, then firmly, steadily, inexorably pulled her out of her seat and over to his side of the table.

  She stumbled around and settled just where he wanted her. In his lap with her arm on his shoulders and his hands settled possessively around her waist. And then, just to see how brazen she was, he let one hand slide down her thigh. A couple flicks of his wrist at her skirt, and his fingers were underneath, stroking the silk of her stockings.

  She gasped in surprise, but he was busy nuzzling beneath her hair. Sweet lemon scent, clean and fresh. God, he wanted to sink into her perfection, but he couldn’t. Not here, not now. But soon, he promised himself. Very soon.

  He became bolder with his fingers, and she slapped her hand over his, flattening his palm against her thigh. “You are exposing my leg to everyone here,” she growled.

  “Then swing your legs around across my lap. They’ll be hidden underneath the table.” Plus, it would give him better access to her body.

  “Bad enough that I’m dressed as a barmaid—”

  “A tart,” he corrected. “Barmaids don’t come close to splitting the seams of their dresses.”

  She looked down at where she was near to bursting past the worn threads. “I tied my corset as tightly as possible. I can barely breathe.”

  “Then I’ll have to get you out of it as soon as possible,” he said as he helped her adjust her legs over his. She accidentally nudged his thick cock, and he hissed with pain and arousal. Damn, if they were attacked while he was in this state, he would be hard-pressed to protect either one of them.

  “You will not!” she said primly.

  “I will,” he promised as he pulled her tight enough that he could glare over her shoulder. And then she jiggled across his lap. She was simply finding her position as she tried to tug her skirt over her legs, but the movement knocked against his cock again.

  “Sit still,” he growled. “Or move more gently.”

  “What?”

  “Good God, I thought you were raised in the country. Surely you can understand that a man needs gentle handling.”

  “I was raised in India,” she retorted. Then at his arch look, she flushed. “I’m sorry,” she said more quietly. “Have I hurt you?”

  He pulled her in tight enough that she could feel his erection pressed hot and throbbing against her thigh. And the dark thrill that went through his body at the pressure had his hands sliding to where they should not be. Not yet at least.

  “I’m made of hardy stuff,” he said as he nuzzled again into her shoulder. He brushed aside her luscious mane of hair so he could watch the room even as he nipped at her neck. And then, when she was shivering in his arms—and the room had returned to its normal business—he lifted his mouth to her ear.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I came to help you.”

  Of course she did. “And how exactly does dressing as a tart—”

  “A barmaid.”

  He huffed rather than argue. “You cannot help. You need to go home.”

  “I know all about Silas, and Ellie will let me know when Tie shows up. Oh, and Lord Rimbury and a footman are hiding outside, just in case.” She drew back and beamed a smug smile at him.

  “You…what?”

  “Did you think you were the only one who could skulk about in taverns?”

  The very idea that she’d been here…that she’d been skulking, left him cold with horror. “Tell me everything,” he said in a low voice tinged with true anger and nearly overwhelming terror. “Now.”

  She rolled her eyes, then settled against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, his actions more protective than sexual. And yet he couldn’t deny the need that pulsed inside him.

  “It wasn’t difficult,” she said, obviously pleased with herself. “I jumped on the back of Lord Rimbury’s hackney. Then I found a woman and traded my clothes for hers, and my earbobs for information.”

  He rubbed his hand through her hair—her glorious tumble of auburn locks—and felt her earlobe. It was naked, and he tugged on it just to hear her murmur a throaty purr. “But why?” he said, genuinely confused. The magnitude of what she’d done was just filtering into his awareness.

  She exhaled loudly. “You promised to explain things to me. You promised to do it tonight. I cannot help it if you made it blasted difficult to find you.”

  “But, Mari—”

  She pressed her finger to his lips. “Have I helped you? Have I gotten the information you need?”

  “You haven’t told it to me yet!”

  She blinked. “Oh. Right. Silas runs a thieving ring of boys. They steal cargo somehow. They’ve got at least one wealthy protector—some say more—and Tie is the youngest of his crew.”

  “Somehow?”

  She shrugged, and in that too-tight gown, her breasts were a distracting sight. “Ellie didn’t know. Though Silas comes here more nights than not, which implies that his home is nearby. And it’s not just him, though he’s in charge. He has three lieutenants, though I don’t think it’s right to call boys raised to steal by a military rank. Insults the real lieutenants, do
n’t you think?”

  Peter dropped his forehead against her temple, shaking his head slightly. “I quite agree,” he said rather than reveal how flabbergasted he was by her knowledge. “Three lieutenants?” he prompted.

  “Boys he’s raised. Big ones. They go everywhere with him as a kind of guard.”

  Peter absorbed this information, making quick plans. All he need do now was to wait for Silas to show and tail him. Thanks to Mari, he had a much clearer picture of the situation. If he stood watch, eventually he would find out who the wealthy protector was. And maybe he’d even grab little Tie and figure out exactly what his father’s role was in all this.

  All thanks to Mari. “You’re a wonder,” he breathed against her skin.

  “That’s what I keep telling myself, but no one else seems to notice.”

  “I notice,” he said. He noticed a lot of things about her. Like the way she let him hold her legs and caress the soft swell of her thighs. Like the way her breasts were pressed against him, and she’d even allowed herself to run her hands through his hair. This was more than a proper woman playing a part. This was Mari, who was desperate to escape the harsh rules of proper behavior. And he was just the man to help her do it.

  “Kiss me,” he said as he maneuvered her face toward him. “Kiss me like a tart who is about to be paid very, very well.”

  Instead of doing as he asked, she arched a brow. “A tart would give you nothing without coin.”

  “Whatever you want, Mari. Just kiss me.” There was raw hunger in his voice, a need that burned through his blood and hardened his cock. A desire that he focused on her, and he watched with satisfaction as her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. Then she slowly, hesitantly, leaned forward. Her lips touched his. Her mouth parted, and her tongue darted out. Her arms tightened around him, and she pressed her breasts against his chest.

  Yes.

  He took her mouth. He slanted his across hers and thrust his tongue inside. He might have done a great deal more. He might have flipped the tavern owner a coin and taken her right upstairs to bed. He was that desperate to be inside her. But just then the door slammed open, and a rough voice called out.

  “Drinks fer me mates. Drinks fer ever’body, thanks to me new nob friend!”

  He didn’t want to look up. He didn’t want to let anything distract him from the wonder that was Mari. But this was odd enough that he couldn’t ignore it. Because anything odd in surroundings such as this was dangerous.

  So he broke away, and then he hissed out a curse. There, held roughly by a man who could only be Silas, was his best friend, looking much the worse for wear.

  “Oh dear,” murmured Mari. “They’ve caught Lord Rimbury.”

  Seventeen

  Mari immediately scanned Lord Rimbury’s face and body for damage. He was roughed up, certainly. His jaw had a swelling bruise, and his cravat would never be the same. But he seemed to be standing well enough, though his eyes burned with fury.

  The other men had fared worse. Bruises abounded, many were missing teeth, and one was limping. But it was hard to tell whether Lord Rimbury had done it or that was their natural state. Either way, they held Peter’s friend firmly by his cravat—using it as a kind of noose—and randomly shook him just to be mean.

  It quite made her blood boil.

  She started to go to his defense, but Peter’s arms tightened about her. “Not yet,” he said in a low tone.

  She disliked waiting, but knew he had the right of it. They probably needed a plan, but she hadn’t the least idea what.

  “At least they haven’t seen the footman.”

  He glanced her way. “Robin?”

  She shrugged and leaned in tight to whisper into his ear. “I never got his name. He brought me your note at the ball and then left to find different clothes for Lord Rimbury and himself.” She shifted on his lap, and his hands tightened, holding her still. “I could step out and find him.”

  “No.” The word was curt and cold for all that he nuzzled against her neck. “It’s too dangerous. I want you right by my side.”

  “So I can protect you?” she teased, even though this was no laughing matter. And yet a part of her couldn’t help but soar. Finally, she was having an adventure that would live up to her wayward name.

  He growled his answer. Then a moment later, he said, “I’m going to try and buy him. Easiest way to avoid a fight.”

  There were so many questions but she didn’t have time to ask. Suddenly, Peter growled loudly at her. “He’s not that pretty. You sure you want ’im?”

  It took her a moment to adjust, but she knew her cue. “I am.”

  He gave her a loud smack on the lips, then he turned to the leader. “Me laidy wants to play with yer lordling over there. How much fer a night with the bloke?”

  Lord Rimbury’s eyes widened in shock. “I am not—”

  “Shut up!” Silas said, cuffing him roughly. Mari bolted upright, even though Peter kept a firm hand on her arm.

  “Hey! I want him kept pretty.” She made no attempt to disguise her voice beyond a rough accent. It didn’t stop Lord Rimbury from recognizing her, and his eyes widened with horror.

  “Bloody hell,” he breathed.

  Silas wasn’t letting him go, though. “He’s my toy, and I ain’t sharing.”

  Peter stood, slouching a bit as he cuffed an arm around her shoulders. “Aw, come now. Ye’ve stolen his purse, humiliated him in front of ever’body. Why not make a few extra coins on him while you can?”

  Silas ground his teeth together, apparently considering his options. Clearly he wasn’t a fast thinker. Meanwhile, Peter tossed a coin at the barmaid.

  “A round of drinks on me.”

  The knot of men around Lord Rimbury cheered, then Peter stepped in front of her. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Let a bloke entertain his laidy.”

  “A guinea,” Silas said, his eyes narrowing.

  It worked! They were going to get out of here without so much as an ugly look from anyone but Lord Rimbury. Except Peter laughed, his tone almost spiteful.

  “Don’t be daft. He ain’t worth it, and I ain’t got it. Two shilling an’ no more.”

  “Two shilling?” Silas scoffed. “For a night with a lord?”

  “Two shilling, and I make sure ’e don’t set the constable on ye tomorrow.”

  The waitress was handing out tankards of ale as fast as she could. Mari could see the mark of fear in her eyes, and she hoped that as soon as the men got to drinking, they’d think less about Lord Rimbury. They certainly couldn’t hold him as tightly with their hands wrapped around their drinks.

  Meanwhile, Peter was pressing his point. “Didn’t think about the constable, did ye? That there is Lord Rimbury, he is. Right bugger of an idiot, but no one said the nobs had any sense.”

  Silas’s eyes narrowed as he looked him over. “And ’ow would you know that?”

  “’Cause we were set to meet ’im here. Didn’t think the bugger’d come dressed like a fool.”

  Lord Rimbury straightened up in mock insult. “I came attired as a gentleman ought.”

  Peter snorted. “There you go. Now let us be on our way, all nice an’ quiet, or there’ll be the devil to pay come morning.”

  That was enough for Silas’s henchmen, especially with the ale on the table now. They dropped like rocks into their seats and tucked into their ale with nary a peep. Not so for Silas, who apparently disliked being reasonable.

  “I got a lord in me pocket, and not just a lackwit boy, neither. The constable cain’t do nothing t’ me.”

  Lord Rimbury looked shocked. “I’m older than I look! And I could have you—”

  “Shut up!” growled both Silas and Peter at the same moment. Apparently that was enough to make Ash silence his tongue.

  “And ’oo is this great nob o’ yours?” Silas scoffed. �
��Some wealthy toff with more money than brains?”

  It looked for a moment like Peter was going to answer. Mari could tell he wanted to brag, but knew better. So in the end, he lifted his chin. “Four shillings.”

  “I’ll pay the damn shillings,” Lord Rimbury snapped as he jerked his cravat free.

  “With wot?” Silas asked as he held up Lord Rimbury’s purse. It was fine old leather, tooled with the family crest. “This ’ere’s me own. Found it just today.” And he showed his foul teeth as he grinned while he thumbed the fine stitching.

  It was a mistake.

  Lord Rimbury had been resigned up until that point. He’d been battered and outnumbered five to one. But right now, seeing that bastard fondle his family crest was apparently too much for him. He moved faster than Mari thought possible. He grabbed the leather with one hand while the other punched Silas hard in the face.

  Everyone was caught flat-footed. Everyone, that is, except Peter.

  He was on the lieutenants before they could do more than sputter into their ale. He dropped two with heavy blows to the head, another with a quick shove to his chair that sent him toppling, and the fourth stopped short when he saw Peter’s knives.

  When had he drawn those? Sharp steel that he held with perfect confidence.

  Meanwhile, Lord Rimbury was locked with Silas in a furious battle. They were swinging at each other, the purse still gripped by both men. It was only now that Mari realized the tavern had emptied out except for the eight of them. Which meant that no one else was hurt, except the furniture, as the two beat at each other.

  Which was when Mari saw her opportunity. Lord Rimbury twisted around, and suddenly she was presented with Silas’s back.

  She wasn’t as tall as she’d like to be for this movement, but fortunately, she knew how to jump. So she did.

  With a tankard of ale in each fist, she jumped high enough to slam both of them down on Silas’s head.

  Whack!

  The crockery shattered. Ale splashed everywhere. But the big man didn’t do more than stumble. Goodness, he had a thick head.