A Rogue's Surrender: Regency Novellas

by Lauren Smith

  Her mother however watched her with a curious expression. “Gemma, are you well? There is something different about you…”

  “Different?” Gemma looked down at herself in concern, wondering if her gown had been ruined or something else was amiss in her appearance.

  “Yes, my dear, you look a little flushed again. Are you coming down with a fever?”

  “Fever?” she echoed faintly.

  “And your gown…what have you been doing? That muslin is quite wrinkled in places…are those twigs in your hair?” Her mother eyed her worriedly.

  Her father patted her mother’s knee in reassurance. “Oh, she’s fine, Julia, she has color in her cheeks, and a twinkle in her eye. It suits her. I’m sure she’s been out gallivanting in the gardens, let her be.”

  The rest of the ride home, Gemma’s parents left her to her thoughts which were focused on Jasper and the stack of letters she meant to burn to ash before the night was over.

  “Just a minute, you scoundrel.” Lady Greenley’s shrill voice stopped Jasper dead in his tracks halfway across the lawn.

  Tugging his coat tightly about his shoulders, he pivoted and turned back to face the old matron.

  She had her bonnet back on her head, and he winced at the shaft-sized ragged-edge tear where his arrow had pierced part of the thick expensive plumage.

  “Lady Greenley,” he replied. What did one say to a seasoned old woman who could likely march beside him on a battlefront?

  “I know what you were up to today in my garden.” Her gray eyes were bright and clear. “Hedges talk, dear boy, and my hedges have told me quite a bit about you and Miss Haverford.”

  Hedges talking? The woman was mad…utterly mad.

  “Lady Greenley, I really don’t know what you—”

  “Harrumph! Don’t try to lie, young pup. I’ve put up with more cunning men than you in my day. Now, tell me what you mean to do about Haverford,” she spoke so plain of Gemma, using her last name like an army general discussing one of the men in her garrison.

  “Miss Haverford? I’ve nothing to do with her.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

  Before he could even draw a breath, the parasol thumped him hard in the chest and he muttered a foul curse not fit for even the old dragon Lady Greenley’s ears.

  “Watch your tongue, young man. Now, Haverford. You’re desperately in love with her of course, but you think you cannot have her. Why?” She raised a gloved finger, articulating her point. “Because she’s always been in love with that half-wit Randolph. Yes, yes, I know all about that. Watched her post those silly letters to him all these years in town. She didn’t think I noticed but I did.” The old woman smiled.

  “Er…” Should he just let the old woman ramble on and maybe try to duck back into the gardens? He could probably sleep in the shed if need be, a tad uncomfortable, but he’d slept in worse conditions at sea.

  “And don’t think I didn’t notice the handwriting on the letters she received. It changed, you see. I often saw the letters those first few months, the ones from him.”

  “Him?” Jasper asked.

  “Randolph!” Lady Greenley blew out an exasperated breath. “Keep up with me, dear boy. You see Randolph only wrote to her a short time. Someone else started writing back to her, pretending to be him. The penmanship was all wrong. I remarked on it to her, but she said it was because he was on a ship, couldn’t write during the swells of the ocean. What rot and nonsense.”

  Jasper went very still. How could the old woman have figured it out? The changing penmanship when he had taken over writing to Gemma only a year into their service. He’d done his best at first to replicate James’s hand, but after a year he’d fully transitioned back to his own handwriting.

  “And what has this to do with me, Lady Greenley?” he asked.

  The elderly woman fixed a keen-eyed gaze on him, planting the tip of her parasol in the ground and leaning on it. “I think it has everything to do with you, my boy. I know you have some silly notion that you can’t be as good a man as your father was. But know this, he died with your name on his lips while you were away doing your duty to this country. He was proud of you. We are all proud of you, Holland. Do not think for a moment you aren’t worthy of a woman like Haverford, because you are. You wrote to her for nigh on a decade, didn’t you? That is something a good man would do, a man who should marry the woman he’s madly in love with. Wouldn’t you agree?” She tilted her head to the side but he didn’t know what to say. He did want Gemma no matter what and had decided he would seduce her, even if it took years to win her heart back from James.

  “Better find your tongue, dear boy, then make your way to Haverford’s house and beg her forgiveness and ask her to marry you.” And with that Lady Greenley left him, alone and confused.

  What if it was too soon? She’d only just had James break her heart. With a woman like Gemma, she wouldn’t simply turn her love toward another man so quickly. She was too loyal for that. Under other circumstances he would have praised her for such a quality, but now it stood between him and his wooing of her.

  He returned to the worry at hand. Would she say yes if he offered for her? He didn’t deserve for her to say yes, not after the cavalier way he’d used her for his own pleasure and taken her virtue in a blasted garden shed. He’d been too desperate to show her how good it could be between them. And now he would pay for it, likely by suffering her disgust for the rest of their lives. But…what if he could earn Gemma’s forgiveness somehow and prove he could make her happy? Would she ever agree to marry him after all that had passed between them?

  Chapter Eight

  The almost purple shadows of the early twilight washed the drawing room in soft muted tones as Jasper paced before the fireplace at the Holland family house. With his hands clasped behind his back, he moved with militaristic precision born of years of pacing the decks while he stood early morning watches, eyes straining to catch sight of enemy sails, or to muse on thoughts of home when the waters had been still. This time wasn’t too different from then, except now he was debating on what to do about the woman who’d made his last decade worth living.

  He couldn’t get Gemma out of his head. In the span of one afternoon everything had changed. The woman he’d gown to care for in ten years of letter writing was infinitely more amazing in the flesh. He couldn’t bear the thought of never speaking to her again or worse, knowing some other man would hold her, kiss her and make her cry out with pleasure. It was his privilege, no one else’s, to make her happy, to show her the world’s delights, both in pleasure of mind and body. The question was, could he convince her that he cared for her. If she knew the truth of his letters and James’s scheme, she would hate them both forever and his chance would be ruined.

  “Sir?” His valet’s voice came from the library door, jarring him out of his strategizing.

  “Yes?” Jasper turned to face the short aging man.

  “It’s Mr. Randolph to see you, sir,” the man announced, stepping aside to let James pass him into the library before the valet left them alone.

  “What a day we’ve had, eh, Jas?” James grinned.

  “Only you, friend. You’ve gotten engaged to Miss Stevens as you wished. Although it will always puzzle me why you would choose her after you’ve seen how beautiful and perfect Gemma has turned out. Congratulations to you both,” Jasper added hurriedly.

  James’s gaze moved about the room and he merely waved a hand in the air. “Oh don’t play coy with me, Jas. I know a bit of an afterglow when I see it, and our dear green girl is green no longer. She was glowing like a ripe peach. Didn’t take you long to pluck the fruit off the vine. How was it?” James chuckled.

  Jasper struck James in the jaw with a powerful right hook. James staggered back, lips parted, and panted as he stared at his friend.

  James’s smile crept back. “Well now, here’s an unexpected turn. Can it be you’ve fallen head over heels for the innocent country girl?” He touched his bruised lip wh
ere a thin line of blood trickled down his chin.

  “James, don’t force me to show you the door. I’ll not tolerate a word against Gemma in jest or otherwise.” He warned, and cradled his bruising knuckles. James’s half-smile faded and he took a tentative step toward his friend.

  “Dear God, it’s true. You’re out of your mind with love! Cool, calm Jas has become a hot-headed buck in love.” James smiled and patted his friend’s back good-naturedly.

  “I don’t love her, you are quite mistaken. She is a sweet girl that’s all.”

  “Sweet? Never in my life have I heard you praise a woman like you have Gemma in these past two days. Before that, when we were at sea I distinctly recall you begging your leave from dinner early nearly once a month to hurry off and answer letters when they came in. I didn’t know it was Gemma you were writing to at the time, but now it all makes sense. My good man you are in love with her whether you will acknowledge it or not.”

  Jasper sank down into the nearest armchair as the truth hit him…he did love Gemma. Lady Greenley and James were right. How it happened…when it happened, he wasn’t sure. But seeing her the night before in the gardens, kissing her, making love to her today in the shed had been experiences he would never get out of his mind. Her beauty on the outside shone as brightly as the beauty within, the beauty he’d spent five years growing to love. He did love her. Loved her so much that everything he’d done to her in the past few days to hurt her was killing him inside. He couldn’t let James know how much he loved Gemma, not until Gemma was safely his. While he trusted his best friend with many things including his life, he didn’t trust him not to try to steal Gemma back.

  He couldn’t bear to think that Gemma would vanish from his life forever…but how could he confess the secret of the letters to her without incurring her hatred?

  “Well, I suppose I ought to go, seeing as you have a lady to woo.” James started for the door to leave.

  “What are you talking about?” Jasper grunted.

  James gave him that indulgent smile parents often give slow-witted children. “Don’t you know how these stories go, Jas? You have to ride hard on your fastest horse to the fair lady’s house, and climb the rose covered trellis to her bedchamber. When she grants you entrance, you get down on your knees and beg for her love. Then it’s a kiss or two and off to her father. It’s simple enough.” James chuckled.

  “Simple? I think I’d rather be facing a fleet of French frigates, with our broadside guns only half-manned…” Jasper groaned, but his friend had already left. Jasper sighed heavily and then called for his valet.

  “Yes sir?” The valet waited for his master’s instructions.

  “Ready my fastest horse,” he commanded.

  The sun had set a few hours ago and all Gemma wanted to do was lay on her bed and not move. Every bone in her body ached, and she was weary of life. What had happened today with James and Jasper had shattered her to pieces. Eleven years of her life had disappeared today in a blink and her future was uncertain. A tension in her chest made it a little harder to breathe. What was she to do now that she had no plan for her future and no options? A dull throb began to beat like drums just behind her eyes. She would have to get through this. Somehow…

  She propped one elbow on her pillow and stared at the small table by her bed. A stack of letters bound in a black satin ribbon sat within arm’s reach. Gemma hadn’t been able to summon up the courage to burn them yet. Reaching out, she stroked her fingertips over the packet with loving despair.

  What harm would it do to read a letter before she burned the lot of them? Slipping one out from the pile, she unfolded the sheets. She scanned the first few lines of one of the early letters and nearly choked. There it was, a reference to her being the fair huntress. She had shared the pet name her father had for her with James and he had often written back to her, calling her the fair huntress.

  Jasper had called her a fair huntress today. How had he known to call her that? Perhaps James had shared that with him? It seemed unlikely that he would have shared that detail. It also struck her as odd that the man who she’d written to for the last eleven years, hadn’t acted like the man she’d fallen in love with. He’d seemed to be a total stranger, one uncaring of her feelings, and unbelieving of her when she needed his trust the most. That was not the man she loved. So how then did Jasper know what her father called her? Had he stolen James’s letters?

  The bushes below her window rustled softly and a curious scuffling sound accompanied by a muttered curse echoed up from below the window.

  Gemma dropped the letter on her bed and sat up when a man appeared over the edge of her windowsill. He tumbled over the ledge and onto her floor with a grunt.

  “Jasper?” She gasped in shock.

  He looked like a deranged garden nymph with cuts from rose thorns on his hands and green leaves and twigs knotted in his trousers and shirt. Gemma didn’t know whether to laugh or be scandalized that he’d just climbed up to her second story window like a misguided Romeo.

  “Jasper, what on earth are you doing here?” she hissed.

  He collected himself and flashed her a sheepish grin. He shook his head and twigs and leaves rained down on the floor. “That climb up the trellis was a great deal easier when I was a lad putting tadpoles on your windowsill.”

  A little breathless laugh escaped her. “I can imagine.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t use the front door, but I wanted a minute alone with you. Of course now I cannot remember what on earth I wanted to say since you’re so…” He waved a hand down her body.

  Glancing down at herself, Gemma blanched. She was barely clothed in just her chemise and she rushed to grab her robe from the chair next to him.

  “Don’t hide yourself, Gemma, I would bask in your beauty…the way only a lowly sailor can hope to reach the stars of the night sky…” He caught her waist, tugging her gently against him.

  Those words…it was from the most recent letter, the one which had sent her the blindfold with the silver stars on it. How could he know what James had written? He knew too much. Her letters must have been handed over to him. That would explain how he knew all her heart’s desires, all her secrets…

  “Jasper…please…” Her body flushed and heated wherever it touched him, but she couldn’t want him. She loved James, had loved James. She couldn’t love someone else, not so soon.

  “Gemma, I had to see you again, there’s something I need to tell you.” His gaze fell to the pile of letters strewn on her bed, then to her scantily clad appearance. “Lord, you make this so difficult. I’m trying to confess my sins to you, and all I want to do is drag you back into my arms and kiss you until you agree to forgive me.”

  Confess his sins? Hadn’t Jasper done enough to break her heart today?

  “You should leave. If my parents find out you’ve come—”

  He dipped her back, catching her in his embrace to kiss her deeply.

  She resisted only a second before softening beneath his hungry mouth. Whenever he kissed her, fire seemed to burn between their lips, a fire she craved like nothing else. This man had the power to bind her with the magic of a kiss and she hated that she loved that about him. When at last he released her, he got down on one knee and clasped her hands in his.

  Startled by the sudden move, she tried to tug her hands free but he wouldn’t release her.

  “Marry me, Gemma,” he said.

  Her eyes sparkled with fresh tears, which she couldn’t wipe away because he wouldn’t let go of her hands. Even though James had turned out to be so wretched, she couldn’t shake off how she’d felt about him for the last eleven years. Those deeper emotions wouldn’t vanish like mists beneath the noonday sun. Heartache took time to heal and she hated that she’d been so taken in by James and his sweet words.

  “I cannot marry you, not when I am in love someone else,” she said.

  “You’re still in love with James?” he asked, his tone strangely quiet.

  She n
odded and a pained chuckle escaped her lips. “Silly isn’t it? The man I love is not the man I met today, but I can’t just let go so easily of what I feel.” She was suffering such heartfelt torment her entire body started to shake.

  Jasper got up off his knee and settled them both on her bed with her beside him so he could wipe her tears away with his fingertips. “Why do you love him?” His fingers were soft on her skin as he erased the tracks of her tears.

  “I shouldn’t love him, not anymore, he’s not the man I fell in love with. That man, the man who wrote to me, that James, is who I love. The last few years…our letters…they mean everything to me…I cannot forget that sort of love so soon,” she confessed. Despite her desire to not wound Jasper anymore, she couldn’t help but wind her arms around his neck and bury her face into his chest. It was so unfair to them both that she wanted the man who wrote the letters as much as she wanted the man whose body held her now. It was impossible to choose between them.

  “You love the man who wrote those letters?” he asked.

  She looked up at him. Teardrops coated her long dark lashes, making it hard to see through them. She blinked, then hastily dragged a hand over her eyes to clear her lashes. “Yes…” she said.

  A tempting, roguish smile curved his lips, as though he had the rest of his life to form that smile and enjoy the way it made her shiver with longing. “Gemma, that’s what I came to tell you. I wrote those letters. Not James.”

  Her heart seemed to stop beating for a brief instant, enough that her chest stung with the unexpected pain when it jolted back to life. “What?” She almost croaked out the word, unable to speak more than that.