“I choose not to take sides.”
“Yet you tender your resignation.”
Gregson shifted nervously. “I thought it best.”
Althorpe stood. “Have a care, Mr. Gregson. You yourself played a part in this.”
Gregson’s face flushed. “To my everlasting shame.”
Althorpe laughed. “Little did you know. Come, Mr. Gregson. Did you not bring Uncle his pipe in the evenings?”
“Of course I did.”
“Then ’twas you who administered the herb that made dear Uncle so ill.” Althorpe laid a hand over his heart, his face a mockery of grief. “Every time dear Uncle smoked that pipe, he took a step closer to St. Peter.”
Gregson gaped. “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”
“’Tis a rare Chinese herb that is deadly when smoked.” Althorpe chuckled. “Have no fear, Mr. Gregson. I’ve burned the rest of the tainted tobacco. No one will ever know.”
“I will know!”
“But you brought him the pipe every night.” Amusement plain on his face, Althorpe reached for one of the discarded papers. “Accept it, Mr. Gregson. You killed the Duke of Belvingham.”
“No,” Gregson whispered, horrified.
“And that is what I shall say—grief-stricken, of course—should you attempt to tell anyone the truth. And who will they believe, a mere secretary who lied about his background? Or the Duke of Belvingham?”
His heart sank as he realized he was trapped. Once more he thought about that vial in his pocket. Once more he resisted the temptation.
“No more talk of giving notice,” Althorpe said. “Even if you did somehow escape England, my informants will track you down. Now be a good fellow and fetch me more coffee, will you?”
And as Gregson turned to obey, he thought longingly of justice.
Caroline sat in the study with the accounts spread across the desk. Carefully she tallied up a long column of numbers, then sighed at the total. The fire had done tremendous damage, and would cost a pretty penny to fix.
Thank God for her inheritance.
She looked up as Rogan entered the room, his expression sober, his every step weary. “Were you able to salvage anything?”
“We got most of the saddles, some of the tack.” He sank into a chair, fatigue slowing his movements. “We’re going to have to replace everything else, right down to the last lead rope. Damn it!” He pounded a fist on the arm of the chair.
She rose and came to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “At least we have my inheritance.”
“Our one stroke of luck.” He reached up and covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Like it was lucky that your father died.”
“I know what you meant.” With her free hand, she toyed with the ends of his hair.
“How’s Colin?” he asked.
“Dr. Raines has confined him to bed with a concussion. I checked on him about a half hour ago, and he was sound asleep.”
“Good.” He leaned his head back into her touch, closed his eyes. “I was afraid he might be seriously injured.”
“He’ll be fine. But what about you? Have you eaten? The sun’s gone down, and I don’t recall seeing you come in for luncheon.”
“I didn’t. There was too much work.” He tugged her hand from his shoulder to his lips. “And now that you’ve reminded me, my stomach is about to revolt.”
“Mrs. Cox left a cold platter for you.”
“Anything sounds good right now.”
“Then let me go, and I’ll fetch it.”
His lips quirked. “I don’t want to. I rather like you here with me.” He pressed another kiss to her palm.
“You have to eat, Rogan.”
“Are you mothering me, love?” He grinned up at her, a spark of mischief lighting his otherwise dispirited eyes.
“I’m just taking care of you. Isn’t that what a wife is supposed to do?”
“It is,” he agreed, then startled her by tugging on her arm so she tumbled into his lap. He chuckled at her squeal of surprise. “Perhaps you can take care of me from there.”
“You’re a madman,” she declared, laughing, and tried to rise.
“No, you don’t.” He pulled her back into his arms. “Why don’t you sit here and tell me how your day went.”
She gave him an arch look. “I helped Mrs. Cox plan the week’s menus, cleaned out the spare bedroom, and went through your correspondence. I also worked on the accounts for a while.”
“Quite a busy day. Perhaps we both need to relax.”
“I need to fetch your dinner.” She squirmed in his lap, trying to wiggle free.
A new spark entered his eyes, one she recognized well. “Or perhaps we need to play.”
“Rogan, you must be starving!”
“I am,” he said with a leer and buried his face in her neck.
She giggled. “You know I’m ticklish there!”
His muffled “I know” was all she got in the way of response. Then he started kissing beneath her ear, and the air left her lungs in a rush. “Rogan,” she breathed, her eyes sliding closed with pleasure.
“Yes, love,” he murmured and drew her into a sweet, searching kiss.
She forgot about the fire, forgot about the account books, forgot about Rogan’s dinner. Her hands slid around his neck as if drawn there, and she clung to him, drowning in the delight of his hands and mouth.
He murmured soft compliments in her ear as his hands swept over her body, lingering on her curves, teasing the sensitive spots he had come to know so well.
She arched into his touch, and when he slid a hand up her leg, under her skirt, she moaned.
With a wicked smile, he pulled the pins from her hair, letting the beautiful dark mass tumble around her shoulders. He gazed into her eyes, and his grin slowly faded to be replaced by a more serious expression. Tenderly he swept a stray curl behind her ear. “Caroline, I could lose everything I have tomorrow, as long as I still have you.”
“Oh, Rogan.” This time she kissed him, so overcome with emotion that she didn’t have the words to express it.
He clasped her to him and eased them down onto the floor. Caroline found herself on top of him as he leaned against the base of the chair, his hair mussed from her passionate fingers, his hollow-eyed face lit by a bright, loving smile. He pulled her to him, kissed her again with her hair falling down around them in a silken curtain.
He plucked at the fastenings of her dress. She gasped when she realized his intention and pulled back, uncertain. “Rogan, we’re in the study!”
“No one’s here. Grafton and Tallow have turned in for the night, my pesky brother is confined to bed, and Mrs. Cox has gone home.” He buried his face in the hollow of her throat, sending a quiver of delight through her body. “We’re all alone.”
“But—”
“I need you, love.” He pulled back so she could see his face. Hunger and melancholy warred in his beautiful gray eyes. “I need you.”
She cupped his face. “Oh, Rogan.”
“Don’t deny me, love.”
“No.” She shook her head, kissed his lips. “Oh, no.”
He took over the kiss, deepening it. Caroline gave herself over to his hands, tugging at his clothing even as he pushed hers aside. He took her nipple in his mouth, and she tangled her fingers in the hair on his chest. Urgency swept through her, built as passion coursed through her veins. His hands and mouth were everywhere, driving her higher. When he slipped his fingers inside her, she dug her nails into his shoulders and threw her head back with a deep, throaty moan.
That sound seemed to snap his patience. He jerked open his trousers, positioned her over him, and pulled her down, sinking into her warm, willing flesh.
She quivered with pleasure, finding the rhythm with the encouragement of his hands on her hips. He grew more demanding, and she rode hell-for-leather, matching his deep thrusts with her own movements. He slipped his hand between them, stroked her most sensitive spot, and in
moments she was clenching around him with a loud moan, her body shuddering as the climax ripped through her.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he groaned, then buried his face in her shoulder and thrust hard and fast, his own hoarse cry echoing hers as he found his own release.
She slumped across him, and they sat there for long moments, hearts pounding in tandem, his shaking hands stroking her perspiring back.
Then his stomach growled, loud and long.
Caroline giggled, and he joined her, his laughter muffled against her throat. “I think I’m still hungry,” he said.
“I can’t see how that could possibly be,” she purred, which set them both chuckling again.
“I need to eat,” he said finally, raising his head. His eyes looked clear and bright, the shadows from before completely banished. “And afterward, I want you to take a ride with me.”
She glanced at the night-darkened window. “At this hour?”
“I enjoy riding at night.” He playfully patted her bottom. “And so do you, apparently.”
She blushed beet-red, her mouth opening and closing but no words escaping. Finally she swatted his shoulder. “Wicked man!”
“I am,” he admitted. “But I still want to ride with you in the moonlight, love.” He swept her back in a lazy caress. “Please.”
She couldn’t refuse him anything when he looked at her like that. “All right,” she agreed, and leaned forward to kiss him.
They galloped over the moonlit fields like a couple of children on holiday. Caroline rode Destiny, the only other horse who could possibly keep up with Hephaestus. She and Rogan alternately raced each other and galloped in tandem, both of them laughing and throwing teasing taunts back and forth.
They were just heading back to their home when a shot rang out through the night, followed by a woman’s scream.
Rogan glanced at Caroline, clearly concerned, but then more shouting ensued, and with a look of grim determination, he turned his horse in the direction of the fracas. Caroline pounded right behind him.
They discovered the source of the ruckus very close to their own home. A coach was stopped in the middle of the moonlit road, where two ruffians had apparently stopped it. One was unfastening the horses, and the other held a pistol pointed at a man and a woman. As they drew closer, Caroline recognized the man as Malcolm Gregson.
Rogan thundered down on the man with the pistol. The fellow looked up at the sound, but before he could aim the weapon at this new threat, Rogan kicked it out of his hand and sent it skidding beneath the coach. Gregson dived after it, as did the other villain.
Rogan pulled up on Hephaestus and dismounted. He grabbed the second brigand, who had scrambled beneath the coach, by the back of his coat and flung him aside, allowing Malcolm to grab the pistol.
Some yards away, Caroline sat frozen in fear, the tableau before her reminding her too forcibly of her own recent attempted kidnapping. Now, as then, Rogan engaged one highwayman in a fistfight, punches flying and bones crunching. The other miscreant made his way toward the petite blond woman who stood petrified near the coach.
“Stay away from her!” Gregson cried, pointing the pistol at him.
The villain lunged, grabbing the girl. She cried out as he swung her in front of him as a shield. “Go ahead and shoot,” the brigand taunted.
Gregson didn’t waver, but his young face revealed his indecision.
It was the despairing whimper of the girl that galvanized Caroline. She kicked Destiny into a gallop and charged the fellow holding the girl.
She had only a moment to enjoy the highwayman’s look of astonishment before she raised her riding crop and brought it down on his face with all her strength.
The fellow howled and released the girl, who darted behind Gregson. The young man curved one protective arm behind him as if to shelter her, the other hand holding the pistol steady on the cursing, injured villain.
Caroline pulled up on Destiny and surveyed the scene. Rogan had subdued the other highwayman and even now dragged him over to stand with his bleeding cohort. He took the pistol from Gregson, pointing it at the two criminals. Dismounting, Caroline hurried over to her husband.
He glared at her as she came to his side. “What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?”
She jutted her chin at him. “Helping.”
“You could have been killed.”
“So could you.”
“I want you safe.”
“I want you safe, too.”
“Damn it to hell, woman!” Rogan raked his hand through his hair, bleeding knuckles and all, yet kept the pistol aimed steadily at the highwaymen.
“Stop cursing, Rogan. There’s a lady present,” Caroline said mildly, then walked over to Gregson. “Is everyone all right?”
Gregson nodded. “Thank you—both of you—for saving us.”
“What happened?” Caroline asked.
“This is my fiancée, Miss Edwina Price,” Gregson said, tugging the pretty blond girl forward. “I’ve resigned my position with His Grace and told Edwina the truth.” He smiled down at her. “She’s agreed to come with me to America and be my wife.”
“How lovely. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Price.”
“This is Lady Caroline, Edwina. And that is Mr. Rogan Hunt.”
“Oh! We were coming to see you,” Edwina said.
“To say good-bye,” Malcolm added. “Then this happened.” His young face hardened. “I have my suspicions as to what this is all about. I can’t help but notice that the coachman ran off at the first sign of trouble.”
“Quite the coincidence,” Rogan said. “Let’s get these two to the magistrate, and we’ll go back to our home and discuss the matter.”
“Miss Price could no doubt use a cup of tea,” Caroline said with a smile.
The girl nodded. “Oh, yes. And may I say, Lady Caroline, that you were incredibly brave just now, the way you attacked that highwayman. I wish I were as courageous as you are.”
“Thank you,” Caroline murmured, stunned at the unexpected compliment. She glanced at Rogan, who gave her a proud grin.
“Foolish,” he said, “but courageous. Well done, love.”
By the time the magistrate had been summoned to collect the two highwaymen, it was well past midnight. Mr. Docket took the two men into custody, though both insisted they had been hired by a man they couldn’t identify, whose name they didn’t know.
Caroline came down the stairs from readying the guest room as Rogan closed the door behind the magistrate and his prisoners.
“Althorpe,” Rogan said, coming to meet her at the bottom. “I’d stake my life on it, yet as usual, there are no clues left to follow.”
“He’s clever,” Caroline agreed, walking down the last few steps. “Blast him.”
Rogan chuckled and slipped an arm around her shoulders, walking her back toward the parlor. “Now, love, is that any way to talk in front of our guests? You’ll shock Miss Price.”
“They couldn’t hear me out here anyway.”
They entered the parlor, where Gregson and his fiancée sat sipping tea and recovering from their ordeal. Gregson got to his feet when Caroline entered the room. Miss Price hovered over her tea, clearly rattled.
“I’ve made up the guest room for Miss Price,” Caroline said. “Unfortunately, Mr. Gregson, you will have to make do with the butler’s pantry. My brother-in-law is injured and is taking up our last spare room.”
“Luckily,” Rogan interjected, “we have no butler.”
“We’re grateful for any assistance you can provide,” Gregson said. “I cannot thank you enough for your assistance.”
“Given the circumstances,” Rogan said, “I believe your idea of starting anew in America is a good one. You should be safe there.”
“And in America, a man is judged for his abilities and not his pedigree,” Miss Price added. “My Malcolm will do well there.”
“Edwina’s father wasn’t happy when he learned the truth about me,” Mal
colm said. “He wanted Edwina to break the engagement. But she loves me.”
“I refused,” Miss Price said with a vehement nod of her head. “I love Malcolm, and that’s that.”
“She gave up everything for me.” Malcolm cast his fiancée a look of pure adoration. “So we’re headed to Scotland first, to get married. Then on to America.”
“I wish you both much happiness,” Caroline said.
“Thank you,” Gregson replied. He turned his attention to Rogan. “Mr. Hunt, I could not help but notice that our hired driver abandoned his hack at the exact moment the brigands arrived. I suspect this was a carefully planned robbery, no doubt designed to result in our deaths.”
“I suspect you are correct, Gregson.”
“And I believe His Grace is behind it.” Malcolm looked at Caroline. “He recently told me how he poisoned your father, Lady Caroline, and I am disgusted at my part in his plan. I hope that someday you can forgive me.”
“Althorpe admitted that he poisoned the duke?” Rogan asked. “That doesn’t seem like him.”
“But we can’t prove it,” Caroline whispered, grief grabbing her unexpectedly.
“He’s a horrible man,” Edwina said. “And now he’s tried to hurt my Malcolm.”
Gregson laid a hand on her shoulder. “And you, pet. He’s tried to hurt you, and for that I will never forgive him.”
“It’s late,” Caroline said, clearing her throat of the sorrow that choked her. “Let’s all retire and think on this some more tomorrow.”
“You can take our coach to Scotland in the morning,” Rogan said. “And I promise you, our driver will not abandon you.”
“Thank you,” Malcolm said, gratitude heavy in his voice.
“Rogan will show you to your room, Mr. Gregson,” Caroline said. “Come with me, Miss Price, and I will get you settled.”
As Miss Price said a fervent good night to her fiancé, Rogan touched Caroline’s hand. “Are you all right?” he murmured.
She nodded, the grief slowly receding. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll help you.”
She smiled up at him, moved by the concern in his eyes. “I know.”
Chapter 21
Just One Touch Page 25