The Renegade (The Renegade, Rebel and Rogue)

by Christine Dorsey

  That she was still alive, was a wonder in itself. Her heart was weak. Her humors never quite in balance. And the night air was full of deadly vapors. Miss Phelps said so. Why she hadn’t expired as soon as the Scot leaped through her window was a mystery. The fright was enough to stop even a stout constitution. Which, goodness knows, hers wasn’t.

  But she’d survived this long. And now her purpose was clear. At least it was, until her breathing became labored. Goodness, the man was nearly running through streets and back alleys. He seemed barely winded, but it was all Zoe and the Frenchman could do to keep up.

  “Ouch. Oh.”

  “Now what?” Keegan jerked to a stop. It was either that or drag the girl’s limp body behind him. She’d stopped dead in her tracks and was now hopping about on one foot. “What the hell is wrong with ye?”

  “My ankle.” Zoe tried to be brave but felt large tears plumping over her lashes. “I fear ’tis broken.”

  She expected a bit of sympathy at least, but got none. Instead the dreadful man stooped in front of her and yanked up her nightrail. Without so much as a by-your-leave his large hand clamped her ankle, pressing here, turning there.

  “I don’t think ’tis broken,” he announced as he stood.

  “But it hurts.”

  “Hell and damnation,” Keegan muttered. “Can ye stand on it?”

  Tentatively Zoe lowered her foot, careful to put only a little weight on it. “I’m really not sure. Perhaps if had a cane.”

  “Which I’m not seeing at the moment.”

  “Yes, well. Do you suppose I could rest for a while?”

  “Yer most august Ladyship,” Keegan began, his teeth clinched. “It may have escaped yer notice but we’re not out for a leisurely stroll in Coventry Gardens.”

  By this time his voice was seething with repressed annoyance.

  “Now unless you wish to be retossed over me shoulder—”

  “That makes my head hurt.”

  “Aye, well then ye’ll step lively, albeit with a limp.”

  Zoe quickly did as he ordered.

  One hand was firmly in his grasp. The other she used to hold up her skirts as she hobbled along. The Frenchman brought up the rear.

  “Where are we bound?” And did he plan to walk all night? Zoe never imagined a kidnapping, which of course she’d never really imagined at all, could be this unpleasant. At this pace her heart was sure to give out soon and then her dear brother would be at the mercy of this barbarian.

  Zoe wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer her inquiry. He’d been ignoring her every moan and complaint, along with the other man’s questions, since the ankle mishap. But she was just as shocked as he seemed to be when they turned into a side alley to avoid a coach and were immediately swallowed up by a swarm of humanity. The byway was packed with people, all milling about, spilling from the gin halls lining the street. Some carried torches and the sudden light made Zoe squint.

  “Be quiet if ye know what’s good for ye,” her captor said. Then he worked at turning them about, distancing them from the crowd, who seemed to be having a drunken fine time laughing and singing. But there was such a crush and so much jostling about that he couldn’t manage.

  As for Zoe, she was simply overwhelmed. Until a miracle happened. One moment the Scot’s viselike grip manacled her arm, the next she was yanked away. The face staring down at her was dirty and near toothless, but at least it wasn’t the wild man who was after her brother.

  “Help me,” Zoe begged the wretch whose foul breath made her want to gag. “Please help me. I’m Lady Zoe Morgan of St. James Square. That man kidnapped me. I’ll give you money if—”

  Just then the object of her lament pushed himself between her and her savior. “No, no. This is the man who kidnapped me. I’m—”

  “A bit touched,” Keegan finished for her, pointing a finger to his temple. “But I keep her ’round for obvious reasons.” His hand clamped over hers.

  “No doubt the same ones I’m thinking of,” Zoe heard her savior say. His voice was slurred. “What say we share her?”

  “Don’t believe him. I’m not insane. I am Lady Zoe—”

  “Sharing sounds right by me. She’s becoming a bit of a bore with her strange ways,” Keegan said. The man before him was obviously soaked in gin, as were most of the other revelers, some of whom seemed a bit too interested in Zoe’s insistence that she was wealthy.

  “Sharing?” Zoe felt the blood rush from her head. This was it then. Her moment of passing. She was to die in the midst of a throng of foul-smelling humanity. Somehow she’d never imagined it quite like this.

  “Ye know, on second thought, I’ll be keeping her for myself,” Keegan managed as the mass of people spilled out on a small square. Able to maneuver now, Keegan bolted away from the man and, pulling Zoe after him, darted into the darkness between two buildings. He could only hope that François followed.

  Stepping into a recessed doorway, Keegan drew his broadsword.

  “No, please don’t kill me.”

  “Hush up.” Keegan pushed his captive behind him and waited for the sound of running feet. There was none. “Well, it seems your admirer isn’t up to a late-night run.” Keegan resheathed his sword. “Not that I blame him much. God, I should have simply let him have ye.”

  “Let him have me? He would have saved me from the likes of you.”

  “He’d have had his way with ye, robbed ye blind, then slit your throat for good measure.” Keegan could feel her recoil. “And don’t ye forget it. You’re not in St. James Square anymore.”

  “Perhaps.” Zoe tried to stiffen her spine. “But ’tis not as if you don’t plan to do the same thing to me.”

  “Now that’s where ye be wrong, yer Ladyship.” Keegan left the relative safety of the doorway. “I’ve no desire to rob ye. Nor have my way with ye for that matter. As for slitting your throat, I’ll only be doing that if ye cause me any more trouble.”

  “You’re a barbarian.”

  “True enough.” Keegan lifted his sword when he heard footfalls, but lowered it again when he recognized the wigged head of his valet. “But ’tis your brother and those like him that helped mold the man ye see today.”

  “I’ll not believe that. My brother is an honorable—”

  “Ha!”

  “What do you mean ‘ha’?” Zoe scurried to keep pace, for they were off again. “I’ll have you know Fox is a gentleman and a fine soldier. He received a commendation from the king’s brother for his bravery during the recent insurrection.”

  “Oh, did he now?” Keegan stopped so quickly his captive bumped into his back. “Well, it be just like the British to reward a man for slaughtering defenseless old men. Women and children too, if the truth be known.”

  “Fox would never—”

  “ ’Tis obvious ye don’t know your brother as well as ye should. Now come on with ye.”

  “I can’t.” Zoe backed away as he dipped down to toss her over his shoulder. “No, please. You might as well kill me now as carry me about like that.”

  “God, ye’re a complaining soul, aren’t ye?” Keegan sighed. He’d planned to get as far from the city as he could tonight, but Lord help him, he was tired. And hungry, and in need of some clothes other than the rags he wore. François was giving him that look like he was ready to argue. And goodness knew, his captive was nothing but trouble.

  Perhaps a few hours’ rest was the wise thing. Keegan glanced about trying to get his bearings. They were close to Pall Mall. A smile brightened his face. “Come on with ye.”

  “I really can’t,” Zoe huffed.

  “I think a short break is in order too, Monsieur Keegan.”

  “It won’t be far, and then ye can both rest a bit.”

  At No. 32 Pall Mall Keegan slipped behind the building and pounded at the back entrance.

  “Who lives here? Where are we?”

  Ignoring her questions, Keegan identified himself, before the giant of a man answering the door could
slam it in his face.

  “Master Keegan?”

  In the oscillating light from the candle the man seemed genuinely perplexed.

  “Aye Ripley, ’tis me, and you’ll simply have to take my word for it till I can take a razor to my face. Is Mrs. Salinger in?”

  “Yes, but she’s abed.” The giant backed up as Keegan ushered François through the doorway. Keegan followed, dragging Zoe behind. Ripley looked at her with the same distrust he initially gave Keegan.

  “Wake her up,” was all Keegan said as he led the way through the back halls toward a sitting room.

  From what she could tell, this house was near as well appointed as her brother’s at St. James’s Square. Hope began to flicker in Zoe’s breast. “Who lives here?” If it was a member of the aristocracy, which, of course it must be, she would tell her story and put an end to this living hell. Perhaps back under Miss Phelps’s care and with a fortnight of bed rest she might yet survive this ordeal.

  In the meantime Zoe half fell, half swooned into the nearest chain. Her captor didn’t seem to notice. He was pouring himself a glass of port, which he drank with relish. He repeated this, still not paying Zoe any mind. She considered trying to sneak out of the room while his back was to her but she was so dreadfully tired. Besides, as soon as the owner of the house appeared...

  Katherine Salinger entered the room in a flourish of flowing silk. “Keegan?” She rushed toward him, stopping short when he turned to face her. “Oh my God, it is you. Though one would be hard-pressed to know.” She laughed, a tinkling sound that reminded Zoe of silver bells. “I was afraid one of my patrons would insist that we attend your hanging today.”

  Hanging? Zoe sucked in her breath and two pairs of eyes turned her way.

  “Ah, what have we here?” Katherine moved gracefully toward the settee. “Did you bring me a new girl?”

  Her captor seemed to ignore that question. He simply introduced her to Mrs. Salinger. Zoe supposed she should respond, but she was simply too tired. Besides, she wasn’t completely naive. She’d just figured out what type of house this was.

  Three

  “Do ye suppose there might be a room where Lady Zoe can rest?” Keegan gestured toward Zoe with his wineglass. “A room where she won’t be disturbed,” he added, his dark brows lifting. Ripley had disappeared toward the back rooms as soon as they’d arrived, taking François with him, and Keegan silently cursed him now for not taking care of this little detail first.

  Without a word Kate crossed to the mantel and pulled on the bell rope. We aren’t accustomed to entertaining ladies here, but I’m certain we can find something.”

  “ ’Twould be a boon if the window were high enough off the ground t’ avoid temptation.” His narrowed gaze shifted toward Zoe, “ ’Twould be a shame if she fell t’ her death.”

  “Am I to gather that your... guest is not accompanying you voluntarily?” Kate asked as the door opened and Ripley entered.

  Enough was enough. Zoe didn’t care if she was so tired she could barely move. She didn’t like being talked about as if she weren’t even in the room. “I was kidnapped from my home by this... this barbarian,” she said, straightening her spine and forcing her exhausted body to sit upright. “If there is an ounce of charity in your soul, you must see that justice is done. Return me to my home.”

  Zoe took a breath, then changed her tactic. The expression on the other woman’s face seemed to indicate that charity of soul wasn’t something that consumed her. “I’ll pay you a hundred pounds.” Still no response. “Two hundred.” Zoe sprang to her feet. “Five hundred.”

  “For God’s sake, Kate, either accept the chit’s bribe or tell her t’ be done with it.”

  His tone, the condescending manner with which he lifted the glass to his lips, told Zoe what she should have known from the beginning. The brute wasn’t the least worried about her convincing anyone in this household to help her. With a defeated sigh she plopped back on the settee.

  She must have looked comical doing it, for the woman laughed, a deep musical sound that grated on Zoe’s frayed nerves. But worse, the wild man’s mouth flattened and he shook his head in disgust.

  “Now Keegan love, you’ve stopped her and it was just becoming interesting. How high do you think she might have gone?”

  “Do ye have a room for her or not?” He didn’t seem interested in any more idle chatter.

  Kate merely shrugged and instructed Ripley to take her to a room on the top floor.

  “I won’t go.” Zoe clutched the arm of the settee and watched apprehensively as the barbarian took a deep breath.

  “If she gives ye any trouble toss her over yer shoulder.”

  “No.” Zoe dug her fingers deeper into the fabric.

  “She’s a wee bit of a thing, though I’ll wager ’tis tough to maneuver the stairs with any baggage. ’Twould be a shame to drop her on her head.”

  The warning was all too clear. Zoe pushed to her feet before Ripley, who seemed to have every intention of following the Scot’s instructions, could carry them... and her... out. “All right. I’ll go,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances. As she walked from the room Zoe heard her tormentor remind Ripley not to forget the lock.

  Kate waited till the door closed to refill Keegan’s glass. “Who is she?”

  “ ’Tis as she said.” Keegan took a drink. “A lass I kidnapped.”

  “Oh, I believed her. I’m just wondering why.”

  “These be desperate times.”

  Kate leaned toward him. “Yes, but I’ve never seen you that desperate.”

  Keegan chuckled and allowed his finger to stray along Kate’s collarbone. “Aye and not everything is about sex.”

  Kate clasped his hand, lowering it to cover her breast. “Strange words coming from you.” When he didn’t respond to her invitation, but continued to stare into his wine, Kate moved away. “Would you like to bathe first?”

  “Actually I need to talk to ye.”

  Gracefully lowering herself onto the settee, Kate patted the cushion beside her. When he ignored her gesture she smoothed the silk surface with her palm. “What happened to you, Keegan? One day you were here in London, the bane of every mother with an impressionable daughter, the next I discover you’ve run off to the Highlands to join that dreadful revolution. Then the trial. Now this...” She let her arms open to encompass him. “What on earth were you thinking?”

  “I...” Keegan took another quick drink. “There isn’t much to tell. Or at least ye seem to know the most of it.”

  “The defeat of the Prince’s army is all anyone speaks of. The Duke of Cumberland—” Kate ignored the derisive sound Keegan made, “is considered quite the conquering hero.”

  “He’s a fat butcher.”

  “Goodness.” Kate laughed again. “That’s hardly the way to speak of the king’s son.”

  “Ye weren’t there, Kate.” Keegan paced to the fireplace and rested his arm on the mantel. “It was he who gave the orders for the slaughter after the battle. It must have been.”

  “That’s war, Keegan. The surprising thing is that you became involved. I thought you had no interest in the Jacobites.”

  “I thought as much myself.”

  “Then why?”

  Keegan couldn’t blame Kate her curiosity. He’d sat in this very room and scoffed at men for doing less than he’d done. He’d derided those men who frequented the Cocoa Tree coffeehouse and plotted revolutions. Now he was one of them. Worse, for he’d been part of the revolt... the failed revolt. But what was done was done. Though he’d live with the expressions of his dead brothers, with the memory of his father’s tortured face for the rest of his life, there were other things to consider. “I’m going back to Scotland. Can ye help me get there?”

  “Keegan.” Kate stood and came toward him. “Again I ask why.”

  “Can ye help me or nay?” Keegan turned on her, then softened his expression. “Kate, I know ’tis a lot I’m a
skin’ of ye.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Kate.”

  “Scotland is no place for you Keegan. Nor is London. Take yourself away someplace. France perhaps.” Kate almost added that she could join him there.

  “That’s what François keeps sayin’. But ’tis Scotland where I must go.”

  “It isn’t safe I tell you. Besides, there’s nothing for you there. Your land was confiscated.” She allowed the hands that reached toward him to drop to her side. “I’ve that on very good authority.”

  “One of yer high placed gentleman friends?”

  “Yes. And you’d do well to take heed.” Her eyes implored. “You’ll be shot if the army finds you there. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I have t’ go back.”

  “Oh...” She whirled away from him in frustration.

  “Me father’s dead, Kate, and me brothers, too. There’s no one else.”

  “All the more reason for you to listen to me. You’ve only yourself to think of now.” Kate clasped his arms. “Do it.”

  “There’s the clan. What’s left of them.” Keegan raised his eyes till they met hers, then turned away from her bewildered stare.

  “My God, Keegan. What has happened to you?” It was as if he’d left a charming rake and returned a man with the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

  “Can ye help me or not?” Keegan realized his tone was sharper than he wished and scrubbed his hands over his whiskered face. He had no desire to explain himself more than he already had... at least not until he himself understood what drove him.

  He sucked air into his lungs and began to apologize.

  “Don’t.” She cut off his words, “I know a man... Oh, Keegan, I don’t wish to be the means of your death.”

  “What about this man?” Keegan stepped toward her.

  “He’s Irish.” A smile spread across her face. “A true rogue. And a smuggler.” Kate settled into a winged chair. “Normally, of course, he secrets things into the country. But I’m sure he can get you to Scotland... if you’re certain that’s where you wish to go.”