The Revolutionary and the Rogue

by Blake Ferre

  “You have a habit of barging me into walls and fences,” Perrin retorted, bringing an onslaught of memories to Henri’s mind.

  “You bit off my buttons. Come to think of it, tried to bite me.” Behind the theater, when Perrin had been enraged over Henri’s protection.

  “Not my best moment.” A true glimmer of regret glistened in the aristo’s eyes.

  “What a pair we make.” Henri stroked the curve of Perrin’s ear. “A revolutionary and a rogue. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t resist you.” Even as far back as that moment he’d saved Perrin on the street from that runaway cart. Though it had taken some time for Henri to accept the other parts of Perrin he’d found displeasing, he now loved everything. How Perrin had come from wealth yet hadn’t been fulfilled by it. Love, not money, was what drove Perrin, and Henri found himself enraptured by that truth.

  Perrin placed his palm over Henri’s heart. “You swapped sides for me. It changes everything. For the first time, I wish I could be hopeful for the future. Just now, I was dreaming of having you in my bed every night—that we could leave all this behind. Start a new life in London.”

  Henri’s chest surged with a tingling contentment. Fool that he was, he dreamed they might be able to steal that future. “I wish we could have that.”

  “I fear if I raise my hopes, the failure will be all the worse to endure. But Henri, I promise you this: if we save Duclos and Ashford…if we survive this…I want you to come with me.” His saddened smile told Henri he feared it might not happen. But the fact that Perrin wanted it—that they might be able to find happiness together—Henri would cherish that forever.

  “I want that. More than you could ever know. I don’t deserve it, but by God I want it.”

  Perrin lifted his head, scooting to face Henri. Turmoil carved deep lines on his lovely face. “Of course you deserve it. You risked forsaking your cause, your beliefs, for me.”

  Henri dipped his chin, avoiding Perrin’s gaze.

  “You’ve committed treason for me…” Perrin sucked in a wavering breath. “Do you regret it?”

  “No. Never. I couldn’t regret it. I committed what might be considered treason long before today.” Henri exhaled. “That first night, I saw Duclos hand that parchment to you. I should have told Luc, but I kept it to myself. I excused my actions as a means of getting closer to Duclos and potentially catching you along with him. I wanted to be the one to snag the victory. And then, when I snuck into your house and found Duclos’s artwork, I should have taken it, told someone, but I didn’t. I committed a deeper crime with each action. That night in the prison, when I helped you escape, my heart abandoned the Revolution. I think I knew a long time ago that something was wrong, but I turned my eyes away. I’m nothing more than a coward.” Perrin deserved better. He deserved to have his Julien.

  Perrin sat upright and cupped Henri’s chin. His palm was so very soft and smooth, unlike Henri’s roughened, battle-worn skin. “You are not a coward. Henri, do you think I’m proud that I wasted a whole year hiding behind my wealth while the rest of the city fell to chaos?”

  “You were grieving. That’s different.” Henri’s lips drew into a tight line.

  “And you were grieving for your family.” Perrin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should have fought to free Julien. Instead, I allowed those soldiers to snatch him from the street. I was too scared to fight for him. I’m bloody embarrassed by how my friends turned their grief into a mission while I simply hid. All this time, I could have done something. I’m the worst sort of bastard.”

  Henri lifted his finger to Perrin’s lips, stroking the bottom edge. “You’re brave and strong, and I wish I was a fraction of the man you are. Before the Revolution, life was unbearable for me. The way the aristos treated us.” He pressed his fist to his mouth. “They pushed and they took until we had nothing left to give. I lost my father…my sister…”

  Perrin rubbed the skin over Henri’s heart. “They live on in you. In the same way that speaking of Julien brings him back. You did that for me. Gave me back the happy memories.”

  Henri placed his hand over Perrin’s, though the gesture did little to purge the knot of regret from his heart. “I’m not proud of what I’ve done, even to that wretched Bertram family. I’d thought I was fighting to end oppression, but I only ended up supporting the new oppressors.”

  He felt his lover’s body harden. “Perrin?”

  “No. Please, no.” Perrin’s voice was thin, each breath coated with gravel.

  Henri’s eyes widened as his heart pounded against his ribs, beating the truth he didn’t want to accept.

  Perrin swallowed. “What did you say his name was?”

  Henri closed his eyes, wishing for the world to disappear. Non. This couldn’t be. He licked his lips but found his mouth unbearably dry as he forced the name. The name he knew would be the end of him. “Bertram.”

  “No.” Perrin’s breathy rasp sliced like a mighty blade upon Henri’s heart, severing it in two. He cried out an agonizing wail as he clutched the sides of his head. “This isn’t happening.”

  “Tell me it isn’t true.” Henri tugged Perrin closer, but Perrin pushed away from him. The horror on Perrin’s face told him everything. Henri should have known better, that he could never be deserving of Perrin’s heart. Henri saw himself as Perrin did in that moment. The villain in Perrin’s tragic love story.

  “It was you.” Perrin rasped the words, but they cast a horrible ringing in Henri’s ears. “You’re the one who arrested Bertram. You’re the reason Julien’s dead.”

  Henri’s body trembled as the horrifying weight crashed upon him.

  “Non.” Henri bit his fist. “Tell me it wasn’t him.” Tears trickled down his cheeks, but not even his regret could change the truth. Henri had destroyed the best part of Perrin’s life. That sunlight he’d seen in Perrin’s eyes when he’d spoken of his former lover— Henri was the one who’d torn the light from his world. Though he hadn’t intended to harm an innocent, his actions had led to hefty repercussions he’d never envisioned.

  After several wheezing gasps, Perrin glared at him. “Your act of revenge sent Julien to that godawful scaffold.” His voice was raw, and tears streamed down his cheeks. “It was Julien’s father. Bertram. You got your revenge by condemning him and his family, but you also destroyed our lives. Julien was innocent!”

  Henri clutched his stomach and mouth. Julien was dead because of him. And Perrin would never be able to look at him the same way again. Their affair was over before it had fully begun. He’d gladly accept the guillotine’s slice across his neck over having to witness the pain he’d caused Perrin.

  “You tore Julien from my life, then you stole your pleasure from what remained of me.”

  Henri closed his eyes and sucked several sharp breaths into his lungs, but they tore through the organs, breaking him from the inside. “Non. Never like that. Do you think so little of me?”

  The room shifted and swirled around him. The one person he craved solace from was the one person who couldn’t stand to look at him.

  “Please. It wasn’t like that. I didn’t know. How could I?” Henri reached for him, but Perrin shoved him away.

  “I let you into my bed. I gave you my heart when I should have strangled you.”

  “Mon Dieu.” Henri kept his face turned away from Perrin. Ashamed. Undone. His lip quivered, and tears rolled off his nose to the bedsheets. “I didn’t… Mon Dieu, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” He slumped against the headboard. “Oh, Perrin, I…”

  “It was bad enough that I fell for a confounded Committee officer, but for it to be the man who hunted Julien’s family… Unforgivable.” Perrin held his trembling hands to his face. “I only just found the will to live, to avenge his death, and you’ve…you’ve taken that from me, too.”

  Henri’s chest convulsed with short, gasping breaths. �
�Perrin… Please. I might deserve to suffer for what I’ve done, but I swear, I didn’t know they’d take the whole family. I’d only meant for those guilty to face judgment. I never intended…”

  Perrin pointed firmly to the door. “Get out. I never want to see you again. Stay away from Crimson Rose. We can save our friends without you.”

  Henri sucked in a sharp breath. “Please, don’t do this. I might not deserve your forgiveness, but please don’t push me away. If you want to save Duclos and Ashford, you need my help.”

  Perrin pushed off the bed and staggered to his feet. “I can’t even look at you.”

  “I’ll make this right,” Henri whimpered, scooting to the edge of the bed. “I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

  In silence, Perrin crouched and retrieved his clothes from the floor and tossed his shirt over his head.

  Henri slid off the bed and stepped toward him. “Perrin, please.”

  “If you won’t leave, I will,” Perrin rasped as he tugged his breeches up his thighs in a series of rough motions.

  “Perrin, don’t go.” Henri stretched his arms outward and fell to his knees, fully exposed.

  But Perrin shook his head. “I’m sorry… I can’t.”

  The finality in those words stripped Henri of his heart. He folded over himself, clinging to the floor with splayed fingers.

  “Please forgive me.” He couldn’t watch as Perrin turned and exited the room. Too cowardly to face the man he’d hurt.

  …

  Perrin staggered down an alley that was illuminated only by the glow of moonlight through the fog. With heavy steps, he wandered aimlessly and clung to his cloak as if it might somehow embrace him in return.

  His heart stretched in different directions. Anger raged through his veins just thinking of Henri’s involvement in Julien’s death. Guilt consumed him over having fallen for someone other than Julien. And that was the worst of it. Henri had stolen Perrin’s heart. And that truth terrified him. His stomach cramped, and bile rose up his throat.

  Perrin paused his steps when he realized where he stood. So very near to where Julien had been taken from him. The tenements along the street were cast in shadows from the gloomy lamplight that could barely breach the darkness. But there stood the sprawling locust tree that slanted over the street from a small garden. He and Julien had only wanted to touch the bark and enjoy a reprieve from a long night of lovemaking.

  But then the shouts. The people pouring into the streets. Coming directly toward them. Sensing the danger, he’d grabbed Julien’s hand and guided him between two buildings.

  His bones grew cold and stiff, and his legs weakened. But he placed an arm upon the cool brick and stepped into the very passage where he and Julien had thought they’d find safety. Tears flooded his eyes as the memories slammed into him. Julien, taller and faster, had pushed past Perrin, making a game out of their plight. Perhaps he’d been trying to put Perrin’s worrying heart at ease.

  Unable to go further into the past, Perrin paused his steps and clung to the wall with both hands. He dug his fingers into the grooves that had been carved by time. His heart was every bit as damaged and worn. A chill breeze forced its way through the tight space and froze his tears. Yet fresh ones only cast a wet warmth over the chill.

  Perrin dropped to his knees. The icy filth on the cold flagstone seeped through his breeches, and Perrin only wished he could dissolve into the cracks between the wet stones and fade into oblivion. No more heartache. No more pain. Just nothingness.

  He collapsed onto his side and curled himself between the walls from feet to shoulders. For so many months, he’d lived with these memories. But his heart didn’t have the strength to suffer any longer.

  He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. Body cramped, eyes tear-swollen. But a voice spoke inside of him, willing him to bid goodbye to the pain. Julien didn’t want this for him. Perrin had been given a chance, and he’d wasted it all these months. He could have joined with Duclos and Guillaume and helped save countless others.

  And then Henri came to the forefront of his mind. Henri, the one man who had pushed Perrin to want to live again. The man who’d given him so much. Perrin was a fool. He was upset, yes. But Henri wasn’t at fault for Julien’s death. Perrin had lashed out at him unfairly. It was his own self-hatred and guilt that were the true enemy.

  Oh hell, he’d been a downright bastard to poor Henri. As the morning dawn breached the horizon, Perrin willed his cold and cramping limbs into motion. He needed to find Henri. To beg his forgiveness.

  Chapter Twenty

  He’s gone. Henri sucked in a series of sharp wheezes, the air teasing his lungs. Each breath was followed by a tight clenching in his stomach that made pain sear through him. His muscles trembled while his fingers struggled to cling to the floorboards. Slowly, he crawled to the bed and hoisted himself just enough to kneel before it, hands clasped in front of his forehead.

  The entire room may as well have swallowed him whole.

  He’d shattered the man he loved.

  Loved? Could he claim such a precious emotion when he’d all but destroyed Perrin?

  If it weren’t for him, Perrin and Julien would still be together, happy in each other’s arms.

  The remnants of his heart sank to his gut, heavy and battered. Everything Henri had achieved in his life suddenly held little importance. None of it mattered.

  The Republic was a fool’s dream. He and his peers had spoken of helping the people, but all they’d brought was pain, horror, and death. And for what?

  A life without Perrin.

  He’d been so set on punishing those who’d destroyed his family that he’d failed to see how his own actions had not only harmed others but had left him alone.

  Thinking of the city, of its turmoil, he couldn’t imagine that his father would have been pleased with the National Convention’s achievements. The guillotine, the crowded prisons, the executions, the mobs. Hardly the equal society they’d envisioned.

  Henri sucked in a wavering breath. Though he might not be able to have Perrin in his life, he’d at least keep Perrin safe. It was the only thing that mattered anymore.

  Somehow, he managed to cover himself with his shirt and breeches, the motions so insignificant in contrast to the loss of Perrin. Hurrying to the lower levels of the club, Henri’s steps were weighed down by his unendurable loss.

  Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. For a brief moment, he’d found somewhere he’d belonged. Perrin had both challenged and accepted him—had given him dreams of a future. But Henri’s past act of revenge had destroyed it all.

  When he found his way to the main clubroom, Guillaume, the establishment’s owner, frowned.

  “Chevalier? You look awful.” Guillaume helped Henri to one of the tables. “What happened? Is it Perrin?”

  A tremor rattled through Henri’s insides. “He left me.”

  Guillaume’s mouth drew into a tight line. “What happened?”

  Henri stammered through the story. How they’d met the Scarlet Crest’s leader. Of Lemaire’s plot to sneak their friends out of Paris.

  “I don’t understand. If the mission was a success, what happened?” Guillaume gestured to Henri’s disheveled form.

  “You know of Julien?”

  “Ah.” Guillaume scooted his chair closer and placed a hand on Henri’s shoulder.

  “I don’t deserve your kindness.” Yet he leaned into the touch, craving any comfort the aging fop could offer.

  Guillaume clicked his tongue. “Give him time. The fact that he’s opened his heart to someone new is, quite honestly, more shocking than the day we overpowered the ancien régime.”

  “What I’ve done will always stand between us.” Though it took every bit of strength to unveil his past, Henri recounted the horrors he’d endured under Comte de Bertram.

 
Guillaume’s face held no sign of contempt. He simply nodded and stroked Henri’s back. When Henri finally admitted he’d arrested Bertram, Guillaume groaned.

  “It’s over. Perrin will never look at me without remembering what I’ve done.”

  Guillaume pulled him closer, resting his hand on Henri’s shoulder. “You’re not to blame. Bertram was a cruel bastard. Anyone might have denounced him. Hell, I would have done it myself, if I’d had the opportunity.”

  Henri closed his eyes, the pressure in his head pounding against his skull. The strain between rib, muscle, and flesh knit together into a strangling web. “The way Perrin looked at me. I saw his soul shatter, like I’d stomped upon every fragile shard.”

  Guillaume used a handkerchief to dab the tears from Henri’s cheeks. When he’d finished, he placed the damp cloth in Henri’s hand before drawing him into his arms.

  Henri clung to the cloth like it was his last breath. “That one fateful decision can never be undone.” He attempted to pull free from Guillaume’s hold, feeling completely unworthy of his sympathy.

  “The Committee is to blame. Not you.” Guillaume tightened his embrace. “Don’t lose hope. Perrin will forgive you. Give him time.”

  “It’s not just about losing Perrin. I’m not sure I have the strength to do what the Scarlet Crest has requested of me.”

  “Don’t belittle your own bravery. You’ve risked a great deal by joining our cause. You belong with us, and if I know our leader well, he wouldn’t have asked something of you that you weren’t perfect for.”

  “I don’t think it’s possible. I’ll be a distraction to Perrin.” Henri refused to risk harming him further.

  “We’ve a day to sort this mess. I’m sure we can make it work,” Guillaume insisted.

  Henri wished he could have the same faith. But the look on Perrin’s face still haunted him. “There’s something I need your help with. One last act in the name of the Scarlet Crest.” For Perrin. “I can’t let Perrin risk his life. I plan on freeing your friends immediately. Right now.”