He kept his back to the wall, measuring his breath against the paces he took, counting silently as he progressed. He reached an almost hidden door and tried the handle, but it was locked.
He smirked at that. For the truly skilled, a locked door was more of an invitation than a hindrance, and he was very skilled. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his tools, deftly picking the lock with only the softest clicks of distress from it. The door opened almost silently at his next attempt, and he slipped into the building, closing the door with his back.
Alone in the dark, he waited for his eyes to adjust, not at all concerned about time, as he was earlier than he had planned as it was. For once, he did not need to do his task expeditiously. This was one thing he must do with caution, patience, and absolute precision.
He’d learned that after all this time.
He pushed forward in the darkness, feeling along the wall lightly. He knew the paces in this hallway, but one could never be too careful, particularly when things might have changed in his absence. The structure of the building would not have altered, but obstacles were always a risk, and he must take care.
When he felt the break in the wall, he grinned to himself and stepped up into the small, darkened staircase. No obstacles, then. What a relief.
It was convenient indeed to have nothing to stop him, and no further delays in the completion of his mission.
He almost snorted to himself. Since when was coming home part of a mission?
Though, if he considered it properly, at times getting himself home was a greater mission than whatever he had been assigned. The more complicated things became in the world, let alone in London, the more challenging his life grew.
Least of all because leaving home was no longer an easy matter for him.
He smiled to himself as he went into the first room he reached, silently as he had ever done. It looked exactly as he had left it a week ago, as he’d hoped it would be. One never knew these days, and he missed so much when he was away.
And he was away far too often.
Gabe approached the bed quietly, its occupant very much asleep, and, given prior history, in no danger of awakening for quite some time.
The dark hair was in complete and utter disarray, as usual, and that would unfortunately probably remain its natural state. It was the same hair as his father, and that had never been tamed. Tightly held in a small fist was a toy soldier, the paint worn in places due to age and excessive activity. That, too, had been his father’s, and all that remained of what had once been a grand set of soldiers. But the boy adored that lone soldier, and it was rarely out of his sight.
Contrary to his usual inclination against demonstration of affection, which was rapidly becoming less and less of his usual inclination, he reached out and brushed the boy’s hair from his brow. He didn’t stir, except to exhale heavily and settle more fully against his pillow.
Gabe smiled and let his hand drop, then turned from the room. Tomorrow, he would take his son for a ride, no matter the protests of anyone else, considering the boy loved it and begged for it whenever he could. Then they would play Army out in the woods, wherein Gabe would be a very insubordinate soldier, as he usually was, with a very demanding, if only just barely coherent, superior officer.
The next room kept him a little longer, if only because he still could not believe the delicate porcelain doll of a creature was his. A son he had been ready for, prepared for, understood how to behave and what was needed. But a daughter…
She left him more terrified than most of his covert missions did.
Never mind that she was still an infant, she was already such a beautiful girl that it drew comment, and he was half tempted to arrange a marriage with one of Cap’s sons just to ensure that she had a good husband who would be far too intelligent to behave in any respect not deemed perfect.
Gent had sons, but they were not coming anywhere near her, or any future daughters he might have.
If, God forbid, Rook should have sons, Gabe would ensure his daughter was never informed of their existence.
He exhaled slowly, reaching out a finger to stroke the plump cheek of his dark-haired daughter, who had his curls but her mother’s coloring. She was a curious one, always crawling about into seemingly impossible places, and she embarked on each of her adventures with a beaming grin that would probably be the death of him one day.
She was the happiest child he had ever seen in his entire life, which made him wonder if he was doing something wrong. He could only count a handful of times where she had genuinely been distressed, which undoubtedly was indicative that his daughter was not well.
Except she was absolutely perfect in every way.
So he, as her father, must only take care not to make any mistakes with her.
Which was a ridiculous thing, since he’d already made roughly two hundred in her life.
And it did not help that her honorary godmothers, his aunt, Geraldine, and her mother’s aunt, Dottie, and her designated godmother, Lady Marlowe, spoiled her excessively and enjoyed pointing out Gabe’s flaws.
She would see them for herself soon enough; she did not need their assistance there.
Gabe shook his head and stroked her cheek one last time, then turned out of that room as well, finally feeling the fatigue of his journey and the relief of returning home.
A smile formed on his face thinking of Whitleigh as home. A place he had hated for the majority of his life was now the only place he wanted to be. Not because of the grandeur of its façade or the improvements they had made with Geraldine’s money, as she had decided he was worthy of it even before her death, or the fond memories he had made here with the family he never thought he’d have.
His family was here. That was what made it home.
And his favorite of all homecomings was the one he was about to have.
He slipped into the room down at the end of the hall, closing the door without a sound, and moved to the window, taking a moment to sink down into the chair near it to remove his boots. Then he rose and turned to the window itself. The curtains were not completely drawn, and he took a moment to stare out at the grounds, now that the moon was out. They were still not what they ought to have been, but considering where they had come from, the change was almost miraculous.
Rather like the change in him.
He turned to face the bed, where the woman who had given him everything that mattered in his life slept, her back to him, the way she usually slept. When he was gone, she took up the entire bed, and it amused him to think that she did not miss him as much as he missed her. She would viciously argue the point every time and say that her expansion on the mattress was evidence of her love and pain at his absence, that she was trying to be where he was supposed to be, but he doubted that. Not her love or her pain at his absence, he could never doubt her there.
He was only convinced she rather liked having the bed to herself at times.
Which was really too bad for her tonight.
Gabe took off the rest of his outerwear and stockings, then pulled back the coverlet and slid into bed, settling himself directly behind his wife and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against his chest.
She stirred sleepily and sighed as he rubbed his hands across her swollen abdomen. “You’re back,” she murmured.
He kissed the back of her neck through the long mane of her hair. “What gave me away?”
Amelia laughed throatily, which always stirred him, and pressed back against him a little. “Lucky guess. Did you sneak into the house again?”
“Of course,” he said with a soft snort. “How else am I to test our weaknesses?”
“Even though you have half of the League’s contacts scattered about the area to keep watch and that half of our household are trained operatives to protect us?” she asked dryly.
Gabe nuzzled against her hair roughly. “You’ve never complained before. And I might remind you that you enjoy a great amount of safety and security de
spite being married to me.”
She made a soft sound of amusement. “I do beg your pardon. How long did it take you with the lock this time?”
He chuckled and pulled her closer, moving his hands gently over their unborn third child. “Twenty-three seconds.”
“My, my,” Amelia commented with a disapproving sound. “So hasty. Why the rush?”
“No idea,” he replied, sighing deeply. “But I am much relieved to be in a proper bed again.”
A swift elbow jab into his stomach had him wheezing for a moment, and he laughed with difficulty, twining his legs with hers. “Did you check on the children?” Amelia asked softly.
He nodded against her, the desire to sleep starting to wear on him. “Of course. I think Alex has grown since I left.”
Amelia scoffed and rubbed her hands over his. “He has not. But he has gained two scratches, one bruise, and someone has taught him some inappropriate French words.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Gabe said at once. “Must be that unruly grandfather of his, he is always causing problems. Or Cook, you know how she gets on baking day.”
“Yes, I shall have to interrogate both of them,” Amelia muttered. “They are obviously the most likely.”
“Obviously.” He let his breathing deepen and settled against her comfortably.
“How did it go?” Amelia asked quietly just as he was nearing sleep.
Gabe hummed a little in thought, wondering how to answer. He wanted to be truthful, but not give her cause to worry. “Well enough,” he eventually answered. “Not quite what we had hoped for, but it could have been worse.”
She made a noncommittal noise that told him nothing. “Did you lose anyone?”
“Not this time, no.”
“Do you miss having Father in charge?”
He could hear the smile in her question, and it made him smile too. “Every bloody day. Cap is insufferable in his new command. I blame you for giving Eagle a reason to leave us.”
Amelia snickered and drew one of his hands up to kiss it.
“What did I miss?” he asked, shifting his mouth so it was near her ear.
She turned to face him a little but kept his arms tightly around her. “Mary tried to walk for Margaret. She’s nearly there, it should only be a few days. But I told her she had to wait for Papa.”
Gabe grinned down at her and stroked her face softly. “Thank you, love.”
She reached her hand up to his cheek, brushing her fingers over his features before reaching around to cup the back of his head. “Alex wants to show you a rabbit’s den he found. Says you both must investigate.”
He chuckled and tilted his head. “Can he actually say ‘investigate’ yet?”
Amelia shook her head from side to side. “Not yet.”
Gabe rubbed his hand over her stomach and paused for a thumping he had come to crave. “And this little one?”
“This one,” Amelia said with a crooked grin, “is probably your fighter. I’ve never had one like this, and I’m blaming you if it gets worse.”
“I’ll take it,” he murmured, suddenly overcome with a sense of contentment and joy that had become a companion of his lately.
He was filled with love for this woman in his arms, for their children in the rooms beyond, and the one yet to be born, and for the future before them all. He had never been a giddy man, but at this moment, he suspected that’s what this was.
Amelia cocked her head at him. “Gabe?”
He leaned down to gently kiss her, lingering and lavishing upon her all the tenderness he was suddenly feeling. “I missed you,” he whispered against her lips.
“I missed you, too.” She pressed her lips back to his, wringing more from him than he’d thought he could bear in his current state.
“Why is it,” he rasped, drawing back to look at her, “that I love you more and more with every passing day?”
“I have that effect on people,” she replied, smiling softly, her fingers toying with his hair.
Gabe laughed and nudged her with his nose. “Impertinent woman.”
“I love you,” Amelia suddenly whispered, her eyes misting over. “So much. And I’m so glad you’re home.”
He shook his head. “So am I, love. So am I.” He leaned down and kissed her again, taking quite a long time to do so.
“You know,” Amelia said, breaking off the kiss abruptly, “you are making it rather difficult for a woman in my condition to sleep. Shame on you.”
He gave her a singularly wicked look. “Well, they do call me the Rogue.”
She lifted a brow at him. “Do they?”
He nodded, leaning down to nibble along her jaw. “They most certainly do.”
“And are you?” she asked, arching her neck towards him.
“Indeed, madam. A rogue without honor.”
“You keep telling me that,” Amelia murmured, her eyelashes fluttering, “but I’m beginning to doubt your claims. All I have ever seen is a man with honor that runs so deep, it is the essence of him. He may be a little bit wicked, slightly disreputable, but honor is something he does not lack.”
Gabe groaned and drew himself up onto one elbow to shake his head at her. “You must keep that a secret, my love. My reputation will be quite ruined. Whoever heard of a rogue with honor?”
Amelia nodded somberly. “Oh, indeed. It shall be my secret. What a rare conquest I have made.”
He touched her lips with a finger, tracing the contours of their fullness as they spread into a smile. “And continue to make, you know. Every single day.”
That seemed to surprise her a little, and her fingers stroked his hair as she smiled fondly. “Why, you are most romantic, Rogue…”
Gabe grinned down at his wife, feeling rather roguish indeed at the moment. “Now that, you may feel free to spread far and wide.” And then he kissed his wife again, and neither of them had anything else to say for quite some time.
But then, after all, he was a rogue.
About the Author
Rebecca Connolly has been creating stories since she was young, and there are home videos to prove it. She started writing them down in elementary school and has never looked back. She lives in Ohio, spends every spare moment away from her day job absorbed in her writing, and is a hot cocoa junkie.
Coming Soon
The London League
Book Three
“Not your ordinary cap...”
by
Rebecca Connolly
A Rogue About Town (London League, Book 2) Page 30