Rejecting the Rogue

by Riley Cole

  “I think you’re wrong. And, I bet she was as intelligent as she was beautiful.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s obvious. You’re a bright young woman. Mr. Darwin and Mr. Wallace would argue that you inherited those traits from your parents.”

  Alicia propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. “What about your parents? What were they like?"

  Meena’s fingers curled around the pencil in front of her. She tapped it on the desktop. “I hardly know what to say.” She cast about for anything appropriate she could share about her inappropriate family. “My father was a smart man. My mother also, from what I remember.”

  The pencil tapped more quickly. “It was just the three of us until Edison and Briar came. Shortly after that, we lost my mother. Father tried his best, but…” Meena ran out of words.

  How would one describe a con artist of the highest magnitude, a womanizer, a selfish oaf, to a girl still in the schoolroom?

  “I never had the pleasure of meeting her mother, but her father was one of the most interesting men I’ve ever known.” Crane strode into the room smelling of warm earth and sunshine.

  Just the thing to shove aside the dreary cloud of memories. Meena smiled. “Interesting is exactly the right word. Thank you.”

  The crisp, white work shirt he’d started out in was tinged with dirt from the garden. With the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and buttons undone down to his belt, his muscled forearms—and his muscled chest—were exposed.

  Meena squirmed, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in her chest.

  Crane perched on the edge of the table and folded his hands in his lap.

  Those hands. Those fingers. Those damnably well-made fingers could do wicked things to the strongest locks, or the strongest woman. He wasn’t even touching her and her body responded.

  The memory of what those hands felt like gliding across her bare skin made her shiver.

  “Meena’s father was a man of business,” Crane continued. “That’s how I met him.”

  “A man of business. Yes.” Meena barely got the words out before another fit of sneezing struck her.

  Crane held out a handkerchief.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled between explosions.

  He pointed at the brass clock on top of the piano in the corner. “If we’re going to make it to the carnival in time for the magic show, you should get dressed, young lady.”

  Alicia slammed the book shut with such force that her papers blew halfway across the table. “I’ll be ready in a tick.” She hurried out of the room.

  Meena sniffled. Crane was sitting quietly, arms folded across his broad chest. If she hadn’t known him better, she would’ve said he was studying her.

  “You’re not your father,” he said.

  Alicia traced a finger along the top of the desk. “Some days, I’m not sure.” She bit her lip. The thought of the things she’d stolen, the people she’d hurt, made her face flame with shame. “I wish I could go back—”

  “He made you steal.” Crane interrupted her. “You don’t have his black heart.”

  “I know. But I have all the worst of his skills.”

  Crane took her hands in both of his. His gaze drew her like a magnet. “And you use those skills for others.”

  Whether his touch, or his words, she couldn’t have said, but it was as if he was drawing the old poison straight out of her. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she turned to study the collection of portraits.

  “Your mother was a beauty. Alicia favors her.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Meena regretted them. It was as if a chill wind had blown straight through the room.

  Crane glared at the tiny portrait as if he wished he could tear it to pieces. “I pray not.” He stood. “We should get ready. If we miss her precious magic show, Alicia will never let us live it down.”

  He brushed past her and out of the room, his steps precise, his shoulders tight, as if he would block out the world.

  Meena tapped the haphazard pile of papers in front of her. Never had she met a man so capable of igniting desire, yet so unable to thaw his own frozen heart.

  Any woman foolish enough to get tangled in his web would do well to remember that.

  Crane’s aunt Emmeline paused as their group spilled out of the arena after the magic show. She took a deep breath, spreading her arms wide. The delicate corsage on her wrist shimmered in the soft summer breeze. “Smell that popped corn.”

  Alicia and her young man, Edward, were studying the jumble of food sellers’ stalls, carnival games, and shops lining the vast West Pier.

  Popped corn. Fresh taffy. Potatoes frites. Meena sucked in a huge breath, letting the scents of summer wrap around her.

  She hadn’t been to Brighton since she was a small girl. The great West Pier seemed not to have aged a day. Dotted with small buildings decorated like miniature Saracen castles and crowned, at its end with a great palace-like dome decorated with plaster icing, the pier had always seemed a delightful foreign land stretching out into the Channel.

  Alicia whirled around so quickly, her light yellow dress swirled around her ankles. “Let’s find some games.”

  Self-conscious as only a young man barely out of the schoolroom could be, Edward held out his arm to her. Spencer offered an arm to his aunt, and then to Meena.

  Both sides of the pier were lined with booths selling food, or offering games of chance and skill. The excited murmur of the crowd mingled with the calls of the carnival barkers trying to entice custom. The piercing tones of a pipe organ rippled out onto the sea from somewhere back on shore. It was a perfect summer afternoon, full of fun, excitement, and for lucky few, a dash of romance.

  For her, the carnival held a pinch of sadness. As she watched the children chase each other through the crowds, their faces smeared with sugar syrup and chocolate, it struck her how much of a childhood she’d missed.

  A boy of six or seven squealed in delight as his father handed him a lollipop as big his head. At that age, she was picking pockets.

  She scuffed her feet along the rough wood of the boardwalk, angry with herself for allowing worn memories to dim her enjoyment of the day.

  She was searching for something to take her mind off the past when the scent of browning sugar snagged her attention. Under a bright green awning spanned by yellow lettering a well-muscled man in a white apron poured molten sugar onto a flat tray the size of a dining table.

  “Toffee!” Meena tugged Spencer toward the booth. “I haven’t had that in an age.”

  As Meena and Spencer and his aunt studied the mounds of paper wrapped candies, choosing their favorite flavors, Alicia stood on tiptoe scanning the booths further out on the pier. “I think I see the ring toss. Let’s try that.”

  Crane paid for their candies, and the group ambled further down the peer. Emmeline hung back, a worried expression clouding her pretty face.

  Meena touched the older woman on the arm. “Are you feeling unwell?”

  Emmeline smiled. “Not at all. I’m having a lovely evening.”

  Something about her response didn’t ring true, but Meena let it rest. Perhaps the poor woman had a headache and didn’t want to spoil everyone’s time.

  “Got four spots here, folks. Halfpenny gets you five rings.” The barker running the ring toss spun a handful of steel rings in the air, juggling them with mesmerizing ease. “Step on up, gents. Got some lovely things here for your lovely ladies.”

  Alicia clapped her hands together. “Oh do let’s stop.”

  Crane and Edward lined up at the booth. The women waited behind them, looking over their shoulders at the wall of stuffed toys, porcelain dolls, and bags of cheap candy for the winning.

  Crane pulled a handful of change from his trouser pocket and counted it out into the carny’s outstretched palm. “You’re playing too.” He waved the women toward the booth.

  Emmeline shook her head, her attention caught by the
booths on the other side of the pier. “You two go on.”

  Meena and Alicia lined up on either side of Edward.

  “Alrighty, alrighty, alrighty.” The barker counted out their rings.

  Meena removed her gloves, and let the cold steel dangle from her fingers, testing the weight. Before she could begin, Alicia had thrown two of her rings, completely missing the entire field of bottles. She giggled and brushed a hand along Edward’s sleeve. “You’ll have to be my champion.”

  Pink spots bloomed in his cheeks. His face froze in concentration. He leaned forward, as far as the edge of the booth would allow, and sent a ring flying toward the group of bottles. It bounced off. His second try was equally unsuccessful.

  Crane shrugged his shoulders and moved his head in a circle loosening his neck muscles in preparation for his throw.

  Alicia rolled her eyes.

  Crane sent his first two rings sailing through the air in quick succession. Both found their mark. Ringing the bottles was child’s play for a jewel thief of his caliber.

  Meena knew she could do the same, but the crestfallen look on Edward’s face tugged at her heart. She flipped her first ring carelessly to the side, almost hitting the carny in the head.

  “Here now!” The barker complained. He shuffled to the edge of the booth, out of danger. “There ain’t no prizes for drawing blood.”

  Alicia sent her last three rings sailing into the canvas at the back of the booth. She blinked, surprised at her own strength.

  Edward’s next toss ringed a bottle.

  “And we have a ringer. That’s one for the young gentleman.”

  As Meena watched, Crane’s third try found its mark as well. Young Edward’s shoulders slumped. Meena caught’s Crane’s eye and shook her head.

  His eyebrows rose, but he sent his last two rings flying off to the right where they clattered to the floor. Meena gave him a discreet smile, then she jerked her head toward his sister, willing him to understand that she wanted the girl distracted.

  The grin Crane sent her made her breath catch in her throat.

  “Alicia, isn’t that your friend from school?” Crane took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the crowd flowing along the pier behind them. “Over there, by the fish and chips stall. What was her name? You know, the tall girl. Ginger hair?”

  “Annabelle?” Alicia squinted at the crowd behind them.

  With Alicia distracted, Meena concentrated on matching Edward’s next throw. With all the stealth she could muster, she released her ring at the same time, and in the same general direction. Her throw ringed the milk bottle, while his hit the next, and bounced off.

  The carny’s mouth dropped open. “That’s one for the lady.”

  “Oh, no.” Meena shook her head. “I’d like to claim victory, but that was Edward’s ring. I’m positive.”

  The boy waved her off. “Not at all, Miss Sweet. That was your point, fair and square.”

  “Nonsense.” Meena pretended to concentrate on aiming her last ring. “I saw it myself.”

  The carny gave her a single nod, eyes twinkling. “One for the young gentleman it is then.”

  His cheeks again stained pink, Edward bit his lower lip in concentration and flung his last ring.

  Meena let hers go at the same instant. Another point.

  “And the gentleman has three.” The barker didn’t wait for a debate this time.

  “Edward! Well done.” Alicia turned to the attendant. “What does he win for three?”

  “Any of the prizes on this row.” The carny ran the edge of his cane over the dolls and stuffed toys on a middle shelf of the prize stand.

  Alicia tugged on her brother’s coat sleeve. “Spencer, you win a prize, too.”

  Crane turned to Meena. “What’s your pleasure, my lady?”

  A light-hearted laugh bubbled up in her. “Alicia, what do you suggest?”

  The girl studied the prizes, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I think the purple gloves for you. They’re your color.” She leaned close to Meena’s ear. “And they are ever so daring.”

  Meena accepted the deep purple things. “And for you?”

  Alicia gestured at a stuffed lion with a stiff, straggly main of coarse cotton. She seemed inordinately pleased with the homely little thing. Her young man seemed pleased with the swift peck on the cheek he won.

  Alicia wrapped one arm around her lion, took Edward’s arm with the other, and snuggled into his side. “Let’s find another game.”

  “You all go on.” Emmeline urged them. “I’ll make my way down the pier.”

  Meena poked Crane in the side. “We’re in no hurry, are we? Perhaps we could amble along with your aunt?”

  Crane slid her a look, and then his eyes widened in understanding. “No, we’re not. Not at all.“ He shooed the couple toward the far end of the pier. “You children go on ahead.”

  Alicia pulled Edward away. “We’ll wait for you at the end of the pier.”

  Meena accepted the arm Crane offered, but his aunt waved him off. “You go along. I want to look for the jam and jelly booth. My friend, Mrs. Crabtree, is volunteering there for the widow and orphans’ home. I’ll meet you at the end of the pier as well.” She melted into the crowd behind them.

  Crane laughed. “Seems we’ve been dropped like a hot potato.”

  Meena eyed the crowd that was surging forward and back, much like the waves surging against the pilings beneath their feet. “Indeed.”

  “Iced cream.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Meena blinked up at him.

  “Iced cream. There’s nothing else for us to do but locate some iced cream.”

  “It cures abandonment?”

  “I have no idea.” Crane held out his arm for her. “But if we find some now, I won’t have to share with Alicia.”

  “That makes sense.” Meena pulled her gloves back on, then took his arm. “Lead on.”

  As he piloted them toward the far end of the pier, it seemed to Meena that he was holding her closer than was necessary. Not that she objected. To the contrary, she found the warmth of his arm against her side exhilarating.

  Exhilarating in a way she knew she shouldn’t.

  The height of him next to her, the way his hard, male body felt pressed against her side, reminded her how wonderfully different the male form could be. Though they were far from alone on the crowded pier, Meena felt as if it was just the two of them, moving through the crowd, as if they were their own small craft, cutting through the waves.

  Until a sharp crash all but knocked her off her feet. She almost missed the small child who ran his shoulder straight into her side. She didn’t miss the man not a hand’s breath behind the boy who opened the metal clasp on her purse and stuck his hand straight in.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Meena pulled out of Crane’s hold and grabbed the pickpocket’s wrist. The studied boredom on the thief’s face flashed into surprise the instant he realized she knew what he was about.

  Crane yanked the thief’s hand out of of her purse.

  The pickpocket still held Meena’s new purple gloves in his grip. From the look Crane fired at him, he might as well have stolen the family jewels. The surprise on his face morphed into fear. Crane was taller and stronger. Had he wished to, he could have held the man until a constable appeared.

  It made little sense, then, the dread that clenched her belly, making her sick. The man had done no harm. More to the point, he and his tiny accomplice weren’t engaged in anything Meena and her family hadn’t done a hundred times. Meena screwed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to imagine what would happen, should Crane insist on calling for the peelers.

  But he didn’t.

  When she looked up, Crane was watching her, a soft expression on his face. The instant she met his gaze, he released the man’s arm. “You’re done here for the day.” He held out his hand for the gloves.

  The man dropped them in his palm and rubbed his arm where Crane had gripped him. “I owe you on
e, mate.” He disappeared after his tiny accomplice.

  Meena realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out in a rush. The world around her seemed muted. The crowds, the laughter, the incessant calls of the carnies, it all dimmed, as if she were hearing it from behind a thick plate of glass.

  Crane handed her back her gloves and entwined her arm with his, pulling her tight against his side. He tugged her along through the crowd. “I’m not giving up on that iced cream.”

  Meena let him tow her along, struggling all the while to regain the bubbly gaiety she’d enjoyed for such a brief moment.

  “Found it.” Crane stopped at the entrance to the lovely arcade that held pride of place at the end of the pier. He pointed to a sign just inside the door. “Hadley’s Famous Ices.”

  After he bought them each a dessert, he led the way out of the back of the cavernous building. Past the iron railing, the Channel rippled its way, unimpeded, to the coast of France.

  With the two story auditorium to block the noise from the carnival, the space between the building and the edge of the pier seemed quiet, peaceful even. Meena was surprised to see that the sun was almost down. The wide sky had turned a rich violet, except where its color was bleached by the rising moon. The tang of saltwater and seaweed hung thick in the warm air.

  Crane set his chocolate ice on the railing and stared out past the horizon. Meena watched him study the undulating swells rolling toward them from the horizon.

  Meena tried her ice. One swallow, and she understood Crane’s fixation. The vanilla flavor combined with the cold sensation of frozen cream was sublime.

  Crane dug into his own dessert. “How’s the vanilla?” He gestured at her half empty cup.

  She swallowed. “Delightful.”

  She scooped up a small mouthful and brought it to her lips. The look of pure longing on Crane’s face made her freeze. “Would you like some?”

  “I would.” His voice sounded thick with longing.

  Meena held out her cup, but instead of taking it, he grasped her hand. He pulled her so close that her entire body, from chest to hips to thighs, fit against him. He wasn’t studying her cup. He was studying her mouth. Studying it as if he were trying to memorize each curve as if he wanted to touch her. Taste her.