Romancing the Rogue

by Kim Bowman

  The tip of her pink tongue darted out and licked her lips. “No. Not wrong. I just don't want to see them again, that's all.”

  “But you need your clothes, and I need to make good on a promise I made to Gabriel,” John pointed out. He stepped closer to her until there were only mere inches between them and brought his hands to her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “Besides, we're married now. Your mother has no control over you any longer. You're mine now, and if I haven't proven that to you already, I'd be glad to give you another demonstration.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “I think you've demonstrated that fact quite adequately already. It's just—” She shrugged. “They'll all know we've been alone together for the last week.”

  “Indeed.”

  Carolina pressed her forehead against his chest.

  “Surely you're not actually worried about that, are you?” He tipped her face up toward him, marveling at what a strange, complex creature she was. Before they'd married, he thought her incapable of being embarrassed or put off by anything. Apparently, she was a good actress. “Almost every new bride has to face her family, Carolina. Nobody will think poorly of you. We were married. That's all that matters.”

  A peal of her throaty laughter filled the room and sent a hot tendril of desire to coil in his gut. “I don't care about that. It's Bethel.”

  “Bethel?” What did she have to do with anything?

  Carolina seemed to find something about the wooden floor plank under their feet vastly amusing. “I'm sure she paid dearly when I disappeared the first time. I'm afraid if I go back, Mother might take her anger out on her again.”

  John pulled her in a tight hug. “I won't let that happen, Carolina.” He didn't know what he'd be able to do to prevent it, but he'd think of something. “Now, let's have breakfast then we'll get ready to go.”

  The solemn look on Carolina's face during breakfast tore at his heart. She was truly worried. Of course she was. Bethel was more of a mother to her than her own mother was.

  After they finished their meal, John excused himself behind the screen and came back with a small parcel. “I hope it fits,” he said, handing it to her.

  Carolina's slender fingers freed the knot in the twine and pulled the paper away. “When did this arrive?” she gushed, grabbing the top of the folded gown that had been delivered.

  “Not long ago,” John said evasively, shrugging.

  Carolina swatted at his shoulder. “You weren't hiding it, were you?”

  “Of course not; what kind of husband do you think I am?”

  “The kind who likes to see his wife spend her days dressed in the same costume she wore when she entered the world.”

  “You can't blame me, can you?” he asked, sweeping her naked body with his eyes. “What man would want his wife to cover her body when it's as beautiful as yours?”

  Her skin grew pink. “That will be enough of that.”

  He laughed at the way her voice hitched on those words. “You know you wouldn't want me any other way.”

  She came up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You're right. I wouldn't want you any other way. But that doesn't mean I want to go see my parents today.”

  “Don't worry, Carolina. It'll be fine.”

  ***

  He couldn't have been more wrong. Everything was not fine.

  In fact, it was the furthest thing from fine as something could possibly be.

  “What did you say?” John demanded of Gabriel, stealing the words straight from Carolina's sputtering lips.

  Gabriel took a deep, unsteady breath and handed John a tattered copy of the City Gazette, one of Charleston's most prominent newspapers.

  John snatched the paper from Gabriel and started reading while Carolina peeked over his shoulder, trying to make sense of what they'd just been told. Surely Gabriel had been mistaken, hadn't he?

  “I don't believe this,” John whispered as the paper slipped from his fingers and drifted to the floor. He swallowed hard and scrubbed his face with his fingers.

  Another wave of nausea washed over Carolina. Gabriel's claim was true. They'd not actually met with the real Mr. Murphy who was rumored to help young lovers marry under the blanket of darkness, but with the man who was pretending to be him and tricking unsuspecting lovers into paying him for services he was not authorized to perform.

  “I don't see why you wouldn't believe it,” Mother said. “It would seem that you'd understand a member of your own kind better than any of us.”

  John tensed and speared her with his icy gaze. “Madam, has it occurred to you that had I known I did not legally marry your daughter I wouldn't have brought her by to see you?” His tone held a sharp edge Carolina had never heard before.

  “Didn't you wonder why you weren't given a certificate?” a pale faced Gabriel asked quietly.

  “I didn't even think about it,” Carolina said defensively. “I've never been married before, how was I supposed to know what to expect?”

  Mother twisted her lips as if she'd just bitten into a lemon. “Either way—”

  “That's enough, Mrs. Ellis,” Father said. “The fact is, they're not actually married. There's nothing we can do to change what's already happened, instead we need to discuss what will happen now.”

  “We'll go back to town and make it right,” John said easily.

  “You most certainly will not,” Mother said. “If you didn't do things right the first time, what makes you think I'll trust you to do right by her now?”

  John bristled. “I didn't know that man was a fraud. I went to the address Gabriel gave me. How was I to know I was meeting with an impostor?”

  “I don't know. But this wouldn't have been a problem had you married her the right way the first time and not run away like the thief that you are,” Mother retorted.

  Color rose in John's cheeks, but he ignored her accusation. “And had I asked for her hand, would my request have been accepted?” The challenge in John's voice matched the one in his eyes.

  “Well, no,” Mother said airily. “You are a completely unsuitable choice for my daughter. She might not have had a chance to reel in the finest catch Charleston has to offer due to her unbecoming behavior and unimaginable interest in an English vagrant such as yourself, but she still had prospects; something that you've once again managed to rob her of.”

  “Rob me?” Carolina argued. “If the prospect you speak of is Charlie Fields, then I'd say he did Charlie a great favor.”

  “You'd be the one to think so,” Mother said; her voice mixed with pity and condemnation. “But you’re charitable—”

  “Mrs. Ellis yous hab a vis'tor,” Bethel said, coming to the open door of the parlor. Her solemn voice and swollen cheeks tore at Carolina's heart.

  She swallowed the emotion in her throat and blinked back the tears in her eyes. Bethel had paid a heavy penalty for Carolina's behavior. And likely, it wasn't just once. John's knuckles brushed her arm, giving her an unexplainable amount of comfort.

  “Have our guest wait...” Mother exhaled, casting a sharp glance at both Father and Gabriel who slept in the informal parlor due to their injuries. “Send them in, I suppose.”

  “Yessum.”

  “If you'll excuse us,” John began, taking Carolina's hand in his, “we'll leave you to your company now.”

  “No,” Gabriel said. “I know you mean to do right by her, John, and this is partly my own fault; but as her brother, I cannot let her be seen leaving here with you.”

  “You do realize she was just seen riding in — on the same horse — with me?”

  Gabriel nodded. “That was unavoidable. But I will not — no cannot — let her be seen that way again. It might start some unsavory rumor.”

  An inappropriate burble of laughter escaped Carolina at Gabriel's implication. Or perhaps it was at the look of disbelief stamped on John's face.

  “You cannot be serious,” John said. “I intend to make things right, Gabriel. Nobody who wil
l see us today will be of any import once we're in England.”

  “Is that so?” drawled a masculine voice from the door. “I happen to know a certain English Lord and Lady who some consider to be important. I believe you know them, too.”

  John spun around, his eyes wide with shock. “Edward? What are you doing here?”

  Edward, who resembled John with his blond hair, blue eyes and tilted smile, came farther into the parlor, silently ushering a petite lady and a small child in with him. “I came to see my brother. I wasn't aware that had become a crime.”

  “It's not. Is everything all right?”

  Edward waved him off. “We'll talk about my news later. I'm far more curious about the situation you've created where you're intending to make things right, Trouble.”

  Though his brother smiled as he said those words, John didn't. “You're not helping matters, Edward.”

  Edward's smile faded and he looked over to where Mother stood with a look on her face that might suggest she was suffering a condition that made her unable to use the chamberpot without the help of herbs. “John, are you in any real trouble?”

  “I'd say so,” Mother answered for him.

  “And just what crime has my brother committed?” John's brother asked, his tone and expression cool as could be.

  Mother cast him a look of icy disdain. “Abduction.”

  Edward didn't show a hint of emotion, just turned his eyes back to John.

  “I'll explain when we're on the ship bound for England, but believe me when I tell you it's not nearly as bad as she's claiming.”

  Edward lifted his eyebrows, but didn't speak. “I hope you're right, because abduction is certainly a damnable offense.”

  A loud gasp rent the air. “You said damn,” a little boy no more than three or four said in a stage whisper; his brown eyes wide with wonder. “Mama said damn's a bad word and that gentlemen shouldn't say damn in front of ladies.”

  Carolina smiled at the boy's mother whose face was now as red as her gown. “Alex,” the other woman said gently.

  He blinked up at his mother. “But you told me damn—”

  “I know what I told you; but Papa didn't say that, he said damnable.”

  The boy's eyebrows drew together, and his mother threw a pleading glance at her husband who shrugged in response.

  Ignoring everyone else in the room, John sank to his haunches in front of the little boy. “Damn is a naughty word because it implies you're condemning something because you're angry and annoyed, and you have no regard whatsoever for what your cursing. Damnable just means something that can be condemned.”

  “But both condemn,” the little boy pointed out, his brows puckering.

  “It's how it's used,” John further explained. “When your Papa storms around Watson Estate mumbling about having to spend the whole damn afternoon with Lady Sinclair, he's being very naughty and deserves punishment for subjecting the rest of us to his foul language—not to mention his disagreeable temperament at the time. But as your mama pointed out, he didn't say damn, he said damnable; which means he thinks it'd be easy to condemn my actions based on the accusation that I abducted your Aunt Carolina.”

  Carolina's heart didn't know whether to flutter at his styling her as “Aunt Carolina” or melt at the way he interacted with the boy.

  “I still think he needs to apologize for saying damn,” the little boy declared.

  “Oh, all right,” Edward blustered, shaking his head. “I apologize if I've offended anyone.”

  “It's of no account, Mr. Banks,” Mother said crisply. “Your word selection was not nearly as unforgivable as your son's free use of such a vulgar word. Perhaps you ought to spend a little more time instructing your son as to what's acceptable to say in public—”

  “Would he be taking these lessons from you, Mother?” Gabriel asked.

  Mother whipped her head around to pin Gabriel with a sharp stare.

  He seemed unaffected. “It would seem to me that you're not exactly an expert in this particular subject, given that your only son cannot abide you and stayed away an additional five years after the war was over just to avoid you; and your daughter ran off in the middle of the night with someone you disapprove of. It seems to me, you're in no position to be giving any sort of parenting advice.”

  The room grew eerily quiet. Nobody could argue the truth in his words — as unpleasant as it might be.

  But that wasn't enough to stop Mother. She might be embarrassed, but she wasn't the type to be so easily deterred. For as annoying as it was that Mother was argumentative and oozed spiteful condemnation, she didn't let what people said or did cow her, and that was one trait Carolina did respect. “As truthful, yet tactless, as your words might be, at least my children were taught the importance of a proper introduction.”

  Carolina nearly sputtered with laughter. Mother could be proven a fool again if Carolina were to mention to the room the details of her belated introduction to John.

  “Well then, allow me to correct your misconception that the Banks family is so ill-bred we do not bother with introductions,” Edward said. He erected himself to full height. “My name is Edward Christopher Banks, the seventeenth Baron of Watson.” He removed his gray hat and gave a low bow, then put it back on and motioned to his wife. “This is my wife, Regina, Lady Watson and my son, the honorable Alexander Banks. And of course, you've already met my brother the honorable John Banks.”

  Mother's face went whiter than any sheet Carolina had ever seen. “Y-you're nobility?” she stammered, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

  Carolina didn't know a thing about English nobility, but if they could reduce her tart-tongued, shrew of a mother into a bumbling idiot, they were a good thing, indeed.

  “No, madam, I was born of noble blood; these days I'm more commonly styled as an English vagrant.” John's voice lacked any hint of emotion, belying the storm of rage Carolina glimpsed in his eyes.

  Mother waved her hand in the air, favoring him with a coy smile. “Oh, do be serious. You've become part of our little family. We just didn't know you brought such noble relations with you.”

  “Part of your family?” John echoed.

  A sound akin to an owl's screech — but was actually just Mother's obnoxious, forced laughter — filled the room. “Of course you're part of our family. You married our Carolina, didn't you?” As if suddenly remembering that Carolina and John weren't really married, she blushed. “About that; I'm thinking we should have the wedding here on the plantation.” She turned to John's brother and sister-in-law. “You will be in attendance, won't you?”

  “No,” John said before either of them could answer, his voice hard and abrupt. He squeezed Carolina's hand, as a silent assurance of something, but she didn't know what, then abruptly let go and crossed his arms. “They won't be here. As you've already said, I am an unsuitable choice for your daughter. As such, I regret to inform you of this, but there won't be a wedding to plan because Carolina and I won't be getting married.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “What the devil are you doing?” Edward called after John just before he reached the barn.

  “Looking for the horse you rode in on.” John didn't know why Edward had come across the ocean to see him, but whatever the reason, he was glad as it created the perfect opportunity for him.

  Edward grabbed his arm and spun him around. “Damn. That's not as easy as it was the last time I saw you.”

  John chuckled. “Hard work will add weight to a man.”

  “At least, it's the good kind,” Edward said, taking in John's solid frame. “You're not the boy I remember.”

  “No. I'm not. I've callused my hands and tired my body doing the work of a man.”

  “That might be,” Edward conceded. “But you're still acting like a boy.”

  John crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb of the barn. “How so?”

  Edward raked a hand through his hair. “How can you ask that? You know as we
ll as I do that you must marry her in truth. As a young man who once studied diligently to be a Man of God, you should know that having slept with her you are as good as married to her in a moral sense.”

  “I know,” John said with an overdone frown. “But legally, we're not.”

  Edward's shrewd eyes narrowed on him and then he sighed. “Are you planning to haul her off in the night?”

  “No,” John said, shaking his head. “I've already done that.”

  “So then, you plan to rob that poor girl of a future?”

  John snorted. “I doubt anyone could rob Carolina of anything she thinks she deserves.”

  “Are you saying she doesn't deserve a life of being chained to you? Because I have to agree. Nobody should be made to suffer that torment,” he said with a grin.

  “She might not find it such torment.”

  Edward laughed. “Does she enjoy suffering, then?”

  “More than most,” John muttered. “For weeks she chased after me… The woman has no shame.” He laughed. “Even you couldn't embarrass her.”

  “Don't challenge me,” Edward warned.

  John waved him off. “That's a challenge I encourage you to accept, but I doubt that even you could find something that could rattle her.”

  “And you married her? Willingly?”

  John shook his head ruefully. “Yes; willingly.”

  “I must say that I'm not surprised.”

  “Not surprised?” John scoffed. “She's everything I once said I didn't wish to marry.”

  “Then why did you?”

  John flashed his brother a grin. “I didn't.”

  “But you thought you did,” Edward pointed out. “For all of your schemes and nonsense, I know better than to believe you knowingly didn't marry her.”

  “No. I didn't.” John used his thumbnail to idly pick at the splintering wood of the barn. “She might not be meek and quiet, and she's certainly not always proper. But she is true.”