To Catch a Rogue

by Amanda McCabe

  “That’s not what I mean, Cal. I mean, what about you and Lord Westwood?”

  Cameron and her? Before last night, she had begun to hope. To maybe think that her long-ago dreams of a man who could understand her were real. He did understand her, as she did him, for their hopes and ideals were much the same. With him, perhaps, she could at last be free. Free of being the eldest Muse, the one in control, the one who always knew the answers. With him, she could just be Calliope. Could begin to learn who Calliope was.

  But then she had behaved so childishly last night. Refused to listen to him. And right when their quarrels at last seemed finished!

  “Lord Westwood and me?” she said. “I don’t think there is any such thing now.”

  Clio frowned. “Do you still argue with him, then?”

  “No. Not like we used to, anyway. He is probably tired of me, of my silly schemes.”

  “Oh, Cal. What other man would have spent all this time helping you with your ‘silly schemes’? Following you through secret tunnels? You just have to face facts, my dearest sister. He is meant for you, and you for him. There can be no one else for either of you, because you would make any other mate quite unhappy with your respective eccentricities.” Clio gave a theatrical sigh. “It is the curse of being a Chase Muse. We’re never happy with ordinary life. At least you have found someone who shares your oddity. The rest of us seem destined for solitude.”

  Thalia chose that moment to let out an Amazonian shout, standing up on her rock with her arms flung wide. She twirled around, her hair a golden flame.

  “Especially Thalia, I think,” Clio murmured. “Only Apollo himself could ever be her match.”

  Calliope laughed, suddenly feeling so light she could surely float away! Clio was right, and Calliope had been a fool to ever doubt it. She was fortunate to find her match, to find a man like Cameron—kind, funny, handsome, infused with the same love of history as the Muses. A man who could show her a new world.

  Was it too late?

  “I have to go,” she said, jumping to her feet. Now, before one more minute was wasted, she had to find Cameron and tell him her feelings. Her yearnings.

  “Yes, go, go,” Clio urged, laughing as Calliope ran up the slippery riverbank.

  Calliope soon left behind the voices of her friends, the river and the bank, as she dashed down the overcast lane. The wind was colder here, and she drew her cloak close, as if to shut away the outer chill—and her own inner doubts. When she was with her sisters, listening to Clio talk, it was easy to believe all would be well in the end. Now, alone, doubts always crept in. Old, plaguing doubts.

  She remembered Cameron’s face, the veiled hurt in his eyes, when she stormed away from him, refusing to listen to him. Was it all too late? Or, despite his kisses, had he really never cared for her at all?

  She wished she could truly call on an ancient goddess, one who could banish all self-doubt, all fears. But all she truly had was herself, and that had to be enough.

  “You have to tell him how you feel,” she told herself as she turned through the gates of Kenleigh Abbey. “If you don’t, you will surely regret it for the rest of your life.”

  And turn into a bitter old Muse, lecturing her bored nieces and nephews on the glories of the classical world.

  She found him in the garden. He stood on the lower step of the terrace, staring out at the hidden passageway, now blocked up again. His hands were locked behind his back, his face expressionless, as if carved in marble. The wind curled his hair over his brow in that poetic tangle she loved so much. Her beautiful Greek god, staring into a world only he could see, a reality only he could know.

  Would he share that world with her? Was it possible now?

  “‘How shall I receive the god, the proud one,’” she said softly, walking down the terrace steps to his side, “‘the arrogant one who stands in the highest place, above all the gods and people of the teeming earth’?”

  He glanced at her, his face unchanging. But she thought, hoped, she saw a gleam deep in his eyes.

  “Are you back from your walk already?” he said.

  “I am. The others are still at the river.”

  “Why did you return alone?”

  “To find you, of course.”

  He brow arched in surprise. “To find me?” he said warily. Perhaps he thought she meant to berate him again.

  “It was so very late when we returned to the Abbey last night, we never had another chance to talk.”

  “Ah, yes. Last night.” He unclasped his hands, crossing his arms over his chest as he nudged at the grass with his boot. “Quite an adventure, was it not?”

  “You could call it that. Who would have thought the duke could be on the side of good, for once? Good as he sees it, anyway. As for Clio…”

  “I never meant to conceal the truth from you,” Cameron said gently. “I just did not want to see you hurt.”

  “I know. If there is a god who is the protector of women, he is surely your patron! You would have told me, and in a far more gentle way than what happened last night.”

  “I only discovered the truth when I saw that painting in the library. Even then I wasn’t sure. Not until we saw her with the Alabaster Goddess.”

  Calliope nodded. “I talked with Clio. She has vowed there will be no more Lily Thief. But when I think of the danger she put herself in…!”

  “That is just the way you Muses are. You care so deeply. Passionately.”

  Calliope laughed. “I never realised I had ‘passion’ at all! I just thought I had certainty. The knowledge of what is right and wrong. Until…”

  “Until what?”

  “Until you. Your passion, your daring—it ignited my own. You helped me discover things about myself, about the world, that I never imagined. You are the Muse, I think.”

  His mask finally cracked, and he turned to her with hope, fear, desire in his eyes. Emotions that matched her own. “Calliope, I never—”

  “No.” She pressed her finger to his lips, just as she had last time they stood on this terrace. “I have to say this before I lose my nerve. I was wrong not to stay and listen to you last night. Not to trust. It—well, it’s not an easy thing for me to trust. But I know now I can always rely on you to tell me the truth, whether I want to hear it or not. I can rely on you to protect me and my family, to support me even when you think I’m wrong. Like when you agreed to help me find the Lily Thief in the first place.”

  He grinned at her, catching her hand in his. He kissed her fingers, sliding them down to press over his heart. Through the soft wool and linen, the trappings of civilisation, she felt the strong pulse of sheer, primitive life. “Calliope. I only agreed to help you catch the Lily Thief because I wanted to spend time with you.”

  Calliope laughed, thrilled at the admission. “You wanted to spend time with me? Even after I had argued with you, berated you?”

  “It seemed the only way you would associate with me. And you see the lengths I would go to in order to be close to you? Running down secret passages. Associating with thieves and false gypsies and even dukes. Horrid stuff.”

  “But why did you want to be close to me?”

  “Because you are beautiful, of course,” he teased. He caught her around the waist, twirling her off her feet in a heady whirl of laughter. “And because of that passion you deny possessing. I could sense it inside of you, like a flame burning in your eyes. It drew me in; I couldn’t stay away. Surely you are more siren than muse.”

  “A stubborn siren?”

  “I adore your stubbornness. I adore how you defend the ones you love, the ideas you hold so fiercely true.”

  Calliope laughed again, breathless, winding her arms tightly about his neck to hold him captive. “No one has ever loved my stubbornness before. And you think I’m beautiful? Really?”

  “The most beautiful woman in all England.”

  “But not Greece? I’m sure you saw some very beautiful women there. Veritable goddesses.”

>   “None to rival you, chief of the Muses. You are what I always sought. What I travelled the world seeking, and here you were all the time. My fierce Athena.”

  “I think we need to invoke another goddess right now,” she whispered.

  She felt the curl of his smile. “And who would that be?”

  “Aphrodite. Did she not serve us well before?” Smiling, she took his hand in hers and led him again towards the trees. Only there, in their secret spot, could she truly show him what was in her heart.

  He followed, unresisting but silent. Was this declaration going to be even harder than she feared?

  She turned to him when they reached the clearing, her heart in her throat. Balanced on her hand as she offered it to him. “Cam, I must say—”

  But his lips swooped down on hers, swallowing her tentative words, catching her breath, her senses, her very balance, and sending them spinning away. She was surrounded entirely by him.

  Her own fierce desire, awakened in this very spot, rose up to meet his, equal—no, surely greater! With a groan, she wrapped her arms tightly him as he lowered her to the ground. His weight was heavy and sweet, their bodies fitting perfectly as if always meant to be. How she had tried to push away her feelings for him, to deny what was in her heart! But those feelings were stubborn, and would not be banished. They burst free now, an explosion of sparks, bright colours, wild excitement.

  She needed him, loved him, and that was all.

  Calliope shoved his coat from his shoulders with impatient hands, fumbling with his cravat, his shirt and waistcoat, until she had what she wanted—his bare, warm skin under her touch. She scored her nails lightly along the long groove of his spine, almost to his taut buttocks, and then back up again to plunge into the satiny curls that tumbled over his neck. Her beautiful Greek god.

  Cameron growled, low and rough, his tongue seeking hers in a kiss not practised and seductive, but blurry and needful. Calliope’s skirts seemed too heavy, abrading her sensitive skin, and she reached down with one hand to pull at them. Not even breaking their kiss, he helped her, stripping away her cloak and gown until she lay beneath him in her chemise.

  Calliope wrapped her legs around him, holding him so close he could never escape. Here, in their forest grove, entwined with him, she was finally free.

  The grey-yellow light was hazy above them when Calliope opened her eyes. It grew late in the day, yet she could not shed her lazy, delicious heaviness. Couldn’t bring herself to even move.

  Their clothes were scattered about the clearing, little piles and tufts of wool and linen, stirring in the breeze. She kicked at a stray stocking, and Cameron’s arms tightened around her. Calliope rolled over to find him with his eyes closed, a half smile on his lips. How lovely he was, so free of cares! So relaxed, like Apollo after his task of summoning the sun was finished. So irresistible.

  Calliope arched into the curve of his body, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. He smiled without opening his eyes, drawing her even closer.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you, Aphrodite?” he said hoarsely.

  “Will you be thanking me when they read the banns and you cannot escape?”

  “Or you can’t escape. Muses are notoriously changeable. I think I should apply for a special licence. Less time for you to fly away.”

  “I shall never want to fly away. I’m going to follow you wherever you go, you know.”

  “Good. Then I’ll always be aware of when you’re chasing after thieves, putting yourself in danger.”

  Calliope ran her fingertips along his arm, feeling the tense strength of his muscles, his leashed power. He shivered under her touch. “My thief-chasing days are done. I don’t always like what I find at the end of the chase, you see.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  She propped herself up on her elbow, gazing down at his face, that lazy half smile she loved so much. “That doesn’t mean I want our adventures to be over! I’ve just found that part of myself, after all. I’m not ready to go back to being staid and sedate.”

  He twined one of her long, black curls around his finger. “Were you ever staid and sedate? I must have missed it. But I am an old stay-at-home now. An old earl, soon to be an old, married earl. My gallivanting days are over.”

  “They had best not be over quite yet! For mine are just beginning. If I have to go adventuring by myself—”

  “Never!” He stopped her words with a laughing kiss. “Very well, then, my Muse. What do you say to a wedding trip to Greece?”

  “That will do—for a start.”

  “And when we return, we can start our own band of Muses. Of little goddesses and godlings.”

  Calliope laughed. “Do you really want that many daughters? It is no easy task, I can tell you. Especially when they possess the Chase wilfulness.”

  “Of course I do, if they all look like their mother. I would be the happiest man in the world.”

  “In that case…” Calliope pushed him on to his back, her hand lingering on his naked chest, trailing downward. “We had best get started.”

  Epilogue

  As the boat drew nearer to the island of Delos, gliding leisurely through the azure water, Calliope saw it was just as her husband had described. Grey with morning mist, damp, shapeless, with no mountains or valleys to delineate it. A desert in the sea. How Apollo’s mother Leto must have despaired when she was set down amid such barrenness to birth her sacred twins!

  Calliope felt no despair, though, only a fluttering excitement as they drew closer, the mists parting. How long she had waited for this! Ever since the day she had sat by a Yorkshire stream and listened to Cameron tell her of this mystical place. Back then she could never have imagined she would see it for herself. That Cameron would be her husband.

  She held tightly to his hand, watching the sun appear through the greyness, as if Apollo’s chariot pierced the fog.

  “Shall we see the gods today, then?” she whispered. “I fear the clouds will keep them away.”

  “Have patience, my love,” Cameron said, smiling at her. “You should know the gods never appear on demand. They are as fickle as Muses. Almost.”

  She leaned closer, pressing a light, tickling kiss to his neck, bare without a cravat. “Was I so fickle last night?”

  He laughed. “Not in the least.”

  Calliope smoothed back the tangle of hair from his brow. How very handsome her husband was, as if Apollo himself had alighted in their boat! Once she would have said he could not be more beautiful than he was on their wedding day, standing before a flower-bedecked altar in her father’s drawing room and vowing to love her for the rest of their lives. But she would have been wrong, for he belonged here. In this ancient, wild, dangerous land, full of sunlight and sea air, he came completely alive.

  And so did she. Never had she seen colours so vivid, heard laughter so clear and true. The sharp, briny taste of olives and new wine; the heat of the sun on her bare skin as she lay in bed with Cameron, lazy afternoons full of lovemaking; the cool, green smell of the night. The brilliant stars overhead. It was life, real life, as she had never even imagined it before.

  “There was once a bridge between Delos and Rheneia,” their boatman said, his oars sounding hollow in the waves as they entered shallower water. “Built by the rich and very vain Nicias. They say it was a golden creation, lined with fine tapestries and garlands. Worshippers could march right across with their offerings, no fussing with boats and such.”

  Cameron laughed. “No doubt Nicias was an orderly sort of man! My mother once told me a tale of earlier processions here. Everyone haphazardly leaping ashore in no particular order, singing, tossing garlands about. No order or ritual. Most shocking.”

  “I’m glad his ‘orderly’ bridge has vanished, then,” Calliope said. “I like the idea of jumping ashore, singing and strewing flowers.”

  “Calliope de Vere! How shocking,” Cameron said, his arm going around her wa
ist to hold her close. “Where is my practical, orderly bride?”

  “Left behind in London, of course.”

  Their boat at last touched the rocky beach, and Cameron leaped out, reaching back to swing her up into his arms.

  Calliope protested, laughing. “I can walk, you know!”

  “You don’t want to get your shoes wet, do you? Besides, this is far more fun.”

  Once they left the narrow beach, he set her on her feet and they turned down a narrow, overgrown pathway, hand in hand. The landscape was thick with thistle and barley grass, blasted and brown. It appeared the only living beings besides themselves were lizards, brown and black, darting into the meagre shade of twisted trees and old boulders. The sun crawled up overhead, spreading white-hot rays until it seemed to come in pulsating waves, burning into the dusty earth.

  Calliope shed her shawl, letting the light fall on her arms and shoulders, bared in a light muslin gown. This place, so barren and empty, hardly seemed a fit home for gods, not like better-preserved temples and theatres they had visited on the mainland and on Mykonos. Yet she could feel its magic. It was as real, as palpable, as that sun overhead. This was a place truly out of time. All her reading and study could never have prepared her for this reality.

  If only her sisters could see it, too, she thought. How they would love it.

  Finally, they emerged into a wide clearing, a ring guarded by the lionesses of Artemis. Weathered now, worn away by the centuries, diminished in their number, they still stood vigil. Ever young and fierce, poised to pounce on heretical intruders and tear them to bits.

  Calliope was glad of her offering, then, a bouquet of bright flowers she laid at the feet of the first lioness.

  “This was once the Sanctuary of Apollo,” Cameron said.

  Calliope gazed around at the littered ruins, the tumble of broken columns, steps leading to vanished portals, pieces of the colonnades that once guarded the sacred statue of Apollo, which was only a portion of torso now, but had once loomed tall. The marble, a silvery-white colour, sparkled in the heat.