What's a Rogue Got To Do With It (Rogues of Redmere Book 4)

by Samantha Holt

  “Did he tell you where he was going?” Louisa asked.

  Abigail rubbed her brow. “He muttered something about coming across a fortune. I didn’t think he’d leave us, though.” She looked up at the little boy in Knight’s arms. “I don’t know how much longer we can survive without income.”

  Louisa met Knight’s grim gaze. If Ralph—or perhaps she should call him Hugh as she was growing certain that was who he was—wanted to take over the inn, there was no chance he was coming back, and from the sounds of his behavior, he had little intention of aiding Abigail at all.

  “Would he have told anyone else about his plans?” Knight pressed.

  “Maybe Eli Jones. They’re always together.” Abigail pursed her lips. “He’s a bad influence on my Hugh.”

  Louisa nodded sympathetically. “Where can we find him?”

  “The Boar’s Head usually. It’s not far from here.” Abigail jabbed a thumb to her left and glanced over Louisa. “I wouldn’t step foot in there if I were you.”

  Louisa didn’t answer. If that was where she could find out more information, then that was where she had to go. Knight lowered the boy down, giving his hair a ruffle. His large hand on the boy’s head made Louisa smile. The man had a soft spot for children it seemed.

  “We should get going,” commented Knight, apparently spotting Louisa’s desire to find this Eli.

  Louisa nodded and rose. “Thank you for your time, Abigail.”

  “Will you help me get him back?” pleaded Abigail.

  Unsure how to respond, Louisa glanced at Knight. The woman was better off without him, but she and the children would also starve. What sort of a man abandoned his wife and young children with no word and no way to survive?

  A man who would try to take an inn that did not belong to him, she supposed.

  Drawing out a handful of coins from his inner pocket, Knight dropped them onto the table in front of Abigail. “Look for a new husband,” he said. “Yours will not be back.”

  Louisa waited until they were outside before drawing him to one side. “Did you have to be so...so forthright?”

  Knight lifted a shoulder. “He won’t return. And if he does, the bastard does not deserve a second chance.”

  “She seems to care for him.”

  He met her gaze. “People often care for those they should not.”

  She looked away, her stomach twisting. Was that a warning? She could not tell, but the words repeated through her mind as they made their way to The Boar’s Head, which was indeed as close as Abigail had suggested. Was she starting to care for Knight?

  She stole a peek at him. His casual attire and stubbled jaw line were not an uncommon sight in her inn. Being a smuggler hardly called for one to be perfectly groomed. Yet that mild inkling of curiosity about him had increased. Now she not only wondered what it would be like to run a hand across that jaw but also how it would feel against her thighs or her breasts. Their night together had been so hard and fast she’d hardly been able to process it.

  And now she wanted more.

  She forced her attention to the pub in front of them. Wide with four windows tucked into the eaves of the tiled roof, the outside had once been whitewashed but the color was flecking away to reveal the chunky stone beneath and what white remained was clouded by dirt. The windows were rimmed with chipped black frames. Outside, a man lolled against one of the walls, a cup clasped tight in one hand as though terrified of being parted from it in his drunken state.

  “I should have thrown you over my shoulder and taken you back to the carriage,” Knight grumbled.

  Lifting a brow, she stared up at him. “You can still try.”

  He huffed. “Not if I want to keep my—” He hesitated.

  “Your?”

  “Balls,” he muttered.

  Louisa laughed. “There’s still time, Lewis Knight. There’s still time.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Knight ducked a low beam and glared at the next person to eye Louisa. He should have followed through with his threat and slung her over his shoulder to take her back to the carriage. His boots clung to the sticky floor, and he grimaced. He’d set foot in too many inns like this in his time and even Louisa, as hardy as she was, did not belong here.

  Damn it, she should be back in Cornwall, running her inn with all her usual confidence. If he got his hands on this bloody Hugh, he’d make sure the bastard never thought of trying to swindle anyone ever again.

  “Stay close,” he murmured to Louisa.

  She nodded and inched toward him, posture stiff. Raucous laughter and conversation ebbed and flowed as Louisa walked past, silencing briefly enough for the men to eye her before they returned to their conversations. She kept her gaze fixed ahead, ignoring all the stares, but she must have felt them. Most looked away as soon as he caught their eye but a few were too drunken to see the threat in his glare. He’d have to watch them lest the alcohol make them bold.

  Knight led the way past haphazard furniture to the bar, some broken from what had to be the previous night’s fight. Broken glass swept to the sides and a fist-sized hole in the wooden paneling that lined the walls confirmed his theory. A heavy-set man with thick brows and a reddened nose peered up at him, his apron streaked with grease stains.

  “What can I be getting you?” He ignored Louisa’s presence, and Knight saw Louisa’s scowl from the corner of his vision.

  Knight pressed a coin across the bar. It might not be needed, but he wanted Louisa out of this wretched place with haste. “I’m looking for Eli Jones.”

  The man glanced at the coin and palmed it quickly. He nodded toward the rear of the room. Several men were taking part in a game of cards around a small table. Empty glasses scattered about them told him they’d been playing for some time.

  Louisa strode over before Knight could stop her. He caught up quickly, but she was already thrusting a finger at one of the men, asking if he was Eli. He smirked and threw back the remnants of an ale, swiping a hand across his face. Droplets of beer still clung to a wiry, ginger beard. His hair was a paler shade of red and his eyes were sunken and bloodshot.

  “For you.” He winked. “I’ll be anything.”

  Knight hovered over Louisa’s shoulder and the soberer of his companions cast their gazes to the table.

  “Are you Mr. Jones?” she tried again.

  “Does this mean...” He rose from the table, shoving his chair back and sending it toppling over. The leg of the chair caught him and he stumbled before tripping over it. He peeled himself up from the floor and laughed, ignorant to the fact his friends didn’t join in. “Does this mean you have heard of my way with the ladies? Because...” His words were so slurred it was hard to make out the rest of his sentence but Knight was certain it was something no woman should hear. He curled a fist.

  Louisa gave a frustrated huff. “The man is roaring drunk.”

  Knight nodded. “You’ll get little sense out of him.”

  Louisa folded her arms. “You are Eli then?”

  The movement caused Eli’s gaze to focus on her chest. His lips curved. Knight released a hot breath and tightened his jaw. He kept his muscles tense as Eli staggered toward Louisa.

  “As I said, I’ll be anything you want me to be.” Eli hiccupped and swayed into Louisa, grabbing her wrists and drawing her against him while she struggled against his hold. He attempted to drag her around the room in some imitation of a country dance. When he whirled Louisa away, Knight stepped in. He grabbed the man by his collar and hauled him away from Louisa.

  Eli released her instantly. “What the—”

  Knight dragged the man through the inn. Though patrons tracked his movements, none offered aid. Eli thrashed but it was no more annoying than that of a fly batting against glass. If Knight really wanted to harm the man, it would be easy. One swat and he’d be knocked senseless.

  “Knight...” Louisa followed after him as Eli’s head knocked against a table leg. “Careful!”

  He ignored
her. If she didn’t like his methods, tough. He was not going to stand around and watch her be pawed by the bastard. Shoving the door open with a foot, he hauled Eli outside and flung him down in the dirt. He glanced around and snatched a bucket out of the water trough in front of the building. Scooping a bucketful of murky water, he tossed it over the man who was struggling to find his feet.

  Louisa gasped. Eli fell back to the ground, the dank water pooling on the hard ground around him. He swept a hand over his face and squinted up at Knight. His eyes widened as he scanned Knight’s length, and Knight held back a smirk. The frigid water had sobered the man up enough to finally realize what he was up against.

  “What the bloody hell do you want with me?” Eli spluttered.

  Louisa stepped forward. “We just want to ask a few questions.”

  Eli attempted to stand again, but his legs gave way and he landed with a splash on the ground. He lifted his arms and let them fall back down to his sides with a sigh. “Ask away.”

  “Do you know Hugh Stanton?” Louisa asked.

  He narrowed his gaze and peered up at them both. “Why do you need to know?”

  Knight took a step forward, hands fisted.

  Eli’s eyes widened, and he held up both palms. “Yes, yes, I know him!”

  Louisa folded her arms. “Did you know that he was planning to go to Cornwall?”

  “To take something that did not belong to him,” Knight muttered under his breath.

  Eli glanced around and finally nodded.

  “And you know why?” Louisa continued.

  “Yes, yes. Something about an inn.” He waved a hand. “But what does that have to do with you?”

  “That inn is mine.” She thrust a thumb toward herself.

  “Ah.” Eli’s third attempt to rise was met with success, and he eased himself up against the water trough, coming to sit on the edge. He raised an arm and grimaced as water dripped from the sleeve. “I imagine that don’t make you too happy.”

  Louisa cocked her head. “He had the deeds to the inn. Do you know how?”

  “Look, I had nothing to do with this, understand? We just drink together. Don’t mean much.” Eli nodded toward Knight. “Make sure he don’t kill me, if you’d be so kind, ma’am.”

  She swung an amused glance at Knight. “If you answer my questions, I will ensure your safety.”

  “He said he got the papers from an old war friend—Ralph something.” Eli screwed up his face. “I don’t know much more. Just said he was going to Cornwall to claim the inn as his.”

  Louisa glanced at Knight. “That’s all you know? Are you certain?”

  Eli pushed his wet hair from his face. “Yes, I swear on my ma’s grave. I know nothing more.”

  Knight eyed the man, whose gaze shot quickly to the floor. There was hesitation in his expression, and Knight did not like it one jot. He went to reach for him again, but Louisa put a hand to his chest.

  “Let him be. We know all we need to know,” she murmured. “Though I am not certain how we prove Hugh is not Ralph. If he has the deeds to the inn, he might have other documents of Ralph’s. He had a letter from Jack but who knows what else he has.”

  “Which he could use to prove he is Ralph.”

  “Which he certainly is not.” Louisa shoved a curl from her face. “So now what?”

  “His wife,” Knight said, tone grim. The woman and her children needed to move on and forget the man who had abandoned them, but Abigail would be able to declare he was her husband in a court of law and ensure that Hugh could place no claim.

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, Louisa nodded. “Perhaps I can persuade her to accompany me home somehow.”

  Knight glanced at the gray skies, thick with the threat of rain, and considered his empty stomach. “We will see what we can do after some rest.”

  “You intend to stay another day?”

  He tensed. That hopeful tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Did she really want him to keep her company for longer? He looked away. No, it was simply because he was useful.

  “Too late to travel now.” He started in the direction of the waiting carriage, forcing her to scurry to catch up and ensuring he did not have to make any further conversation.

  By the time they reached the inn, fat droplets of rain beat at the carriage roof, a cacophony of noise that worsened his headache— a headache that had been created by him spending the entire damned day grinding his teeth. If he was not ready to pluck out the eyes of every man who looked at Louisa, he was trying not to think about how he wanted to pull her into his arms and take away the strain of the day. Though they had figured out that Hugh was masquerading as Ralph, nothing was settled, and he saw the strain of it around Louisa’s eyes.

  Handing her down from the carriage, he escorted her quickly into the inn. Even though they’d been caught in the rain for mere moments, droplets flecked her skin and tugged her curls into darkened strands that hugged her neck.

  They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “I had better change before supper.” She tugged off her bonnet and plucked a wet strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

  Knight nodded curtly, mentally willing himself away from the image of her changing. He followed her upstairs with the intention of changing too but found himself pausing outside of her room. Damn and blast, if he only knew women better, he’d know what to say to ease the strain in her voice and posture.

  “I am certain...” He trailed off as she blinked at him expectantly. “That is...we will ensure Hugh does not take the inn. Red will put a stop to it, that much I am certain.”

  Her lips tilted. “Red is powerful but even he cannot stop a man from claiming what is his.”

  “It is not his, though.”

  “No. But it is only my word against his.” She wrung her hands together. “I’m glad we found out more about Hugh, but I am worried that it will not be enough to simply know it. How do I prove it is not him?”

  “We will speak to Abigail. He will not get your inn, I swear it.”

  Her bottom lip quivered slightly before she set her jaw. “I thank you, Knight. You have been...”

  Perhaps it was the vulnerability in her gaze. Maybe it was because she made him so damned weak. Whatever it was, he could fight no longer. He had to comfort this woman somehow and this was the only way he could fathom doing it. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. She gasped, dropped her bonnet, and threw her arms around his neck as she slanted her lips across his.

  Fire licked along his insides, burned through his veins. He flattened her back against the door and her fingers scrabbled through his hair.

  “Christ.” He choked the word out between kisses.

  She tasted so damned perfect, felt so damned right. Pushing his fingers under her spencer, he found skin and groaned while she gasped against his mouth.

  “Wait.”

  That whispered word shattered the haze clouding his mind. He froze, a palm to the door, and shoved a hand through his hair.

  “Knight, I....” Louisa frowned then skimmed a hand across his face and dropped a kiss onto his chin, then his neck.

  The air around them heated again. He glanced down at her, meeting her gaze. With a groan, he flattened her back up against the door and kissed her again. Her mouth opened to his, and he pressed deep. She curled her hands around his shoulders and tried to get closer, her body writhing against his.

  Desire ached deep in his gut to the point of pain. He needed this woman more than his next breath. The closing of a door somewhere along the corridor filtered into his mind. He registered that his fingers were gripping her shoulders, that he had her at his mercy, her body soft against his.

  He pushed himself back, breaking the kiss with such swiftness that Louisa swayed briefly. She eyed him, her gaze wary and her lips full and red from his kisses. That agonizing desire still needled his gut.

  “I cannot do this,” he said, voice gruff with need.

  “Perhaps...
” She drew in a long breath. “Perhaps you should have thought about that before kissing me.”

  He gave a depreciative laugh. Think? As if he did any thinking around her. If he’d have truly been thinking, he would have kept his distance from the moment he’d first set eyes on her in Penshallow. All those bloody days of lusting after her had done this to him. No damned wonder he could not keep his hands to himself.

  “I was trying to comfort you.” The words sounded weak and ridiculous when he heard them out loud.

  She laughed. “And that is how you comfort a woman? Tease her with kisses then make her look a fool?”

  “I had little intention of making you look a fool,” he said tightly.

  Palms flat against the door at either side of her, she stared up at him. “Why must you deny this?” She shook her head. “You desire me, I know you do.”

  “It matters not.”

  Louisa pushed away from the wall and put her hands to her hips. “I’m tired, Knight. Tired of fighting this. Of fighting you.”

  “Louisa—”

  “We are both grown adults with little to hold us back.”

  “You agreed we would not repeat our previous mistake,” he pointed out.

  Her cheeks grew red, and she tightened her jaw. “It is clear that neither of us are capable of remembering that. I do not see the harm in two people finding comfort in one another.”

  “You will find no comfort with me.”

  “Why are you so insistent of pushing me away?” she demanded. “If you would only talk to me, explain—”

  “I do not talk, if you recall. Most know this of me.” He winced inwardly at his tone, but he could not have pressed further. This needed to be over, now. And he had to be as far away from her as possible or else he’d drag her back to bed and she’d wake with regret in the morning.

  “I know you want me.” She curled her fingers around the lapel of his jacket.

  The tempting proximity of her sent his pulse racing. Bloody hell, this could not happen. Knight pushed her back, more roughly than he’d intended. She staggered back and gaped at him. He cursed under his breath, fists curled at his sides. The blasted woman was weakening him by the second, but he should never have touched her like that.