Going Rogue (Ribbons and Rogues Book 1)

by Jefferson, Jessica

  “And you do it all yourself? You don’t use your stable hands for this?”

  “Not too often.” He shook his head. “I love my animals and prefer to care for them myself whenever possible. That way I know they’ll get the best possible treatment.”

  “I find such loyalty . . . refreshing,” she said. After all the hills and valleys Lord Sutherland had dragged her over, she gladly welcomed the idea of someone being so steadfast. Meredith wandered to the other side of him, putting some extra sway into her step.

  He noticed. Garrett turned his head, following her with hungry eyes as she walked across the stable. “This is quite a nice building. Did you design it yourself?”

  “How did you know?” He grinned.

  She shrugged. “Intuition, I suppose.”

  “Intuition?” he repeated.

  She looked down and then up suddenly, catching him staring at her. It was a clever little maneuver she’d learned not so long after moving to London. Flirtation was a dance just like any other. As with any dance, learning the proper technique and all the right steps was essential for success. “My intuition is very strong, and almost always right. I’ve often been accused of having a sixth sense.”

  Garrett leaned against a post and folded his arms over his chest. “And what else does your intuition tell you, Miss Castle?”

  Something shifted in the air around them, the innocent flirtation transforming into something considerably more dangerous. She’d been so certain of her path before, so sure Mr. Marshall was the answer to all her problems. But standing there alone with him—his eyes raking over her as if her feigned interest had granted him free reign to gawk, evoked nothing but doubt.

  Her bravado was gone.

  She didn’t answer him. Instead, she abruptly turned away and started petting the nose of the horse in the next stall.

  “Miss Castle, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look quite lovely tonight.”

  He was closer now, his breath warm on her neck, sending a surge of apprehension down her spine. She planted her feet firmly, commanding them to stay rather than flee as was her instinct.

  “Forgive me for being so bold, but did you by chance dress for me?” he asked, touching her just below her cap sleeves. His callused hands were cold against her bare skin.

  Her body went rigid under his touch—it felt nothing like Derek’s. Derek’s hands, though weathered and rough, had been excruciatingly gentle. Garrett was squeezing her arms roughly, the chill from his cold hands spreading over her body.

  She turned, wriggling out of his grasp.

  His smile turned into something wicked. He wanted her. The evidence was making itself painfully known right there in the tenting of his breeches. She turned away, too embarrassed to face him.

  Suddenly her little game was becoming dangerous and she wanted out. “I’m afraid I’ve made an awful mistake in coming here . . .”

  Garrett tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing.”

  “Actually, I believe there’s quite a bit wrong with this.”

  He bent his head, his lips coming down on hers hard, possessively. He kissed her with a fair amount of skill, but with none of the passion she’d felt with Derek. No, Garrett’s kisses were far tamer in nature and lacked that ability to ignite her body with a single flick of his tongue. She felt herself shriveling inside . . .

  She wanted Derek, not Mr. Marshall.

  She pushed against his chest, trying to put some space between them. But he remained firmly planted in his place.

  “Miss Castle,” he groaned. He roughly squeezed her left breast, as if he were trying to extract juice from a piece of citrus.

  She squealed. “Mr. Marshall!” she exclaimed, rather shocked by his gall . . . and complete lack of finesse. She jerked away.

  “Miss Castle,” he purred, taking a step closer.

  Meredith held her hands up in front of her, preventing him from taking another step. “Mr. Marshall,” she scolded. “This isn’t right.”

  “I’m sorry if I offended you.” The grin on his face indicated otherwise.

  She went to straighten the bodice of her dress and felt a rip straight down the middle. It must have torn when she pushed him away. “I shouldn’t have come out here. I thought that perhaps you and I were compatible—”

  “Oh, we’re compatible . . .” He advanced another step.

  She retreated one step, shaking her head. “Not like that. I thought maybe you’d entertained the idea of a potential union—”

  “A union?” Garrett’s voice raised an octave.

  Meredith cleared her throat. “I just thought since we both seemed to enjoy each other’s company that perhaps there was a potential for a more long-term relationship. But now I know the idea was foolish.”

  “You mean that you want to get married?”

  “I did, but I really didn’t, but then I had to . . .” She threw her arms up. “Doesn’t every girl?”

  “I suppose they do.” He frowned. “But you wanted to marry me?”

  She shrugged. “You were always so forward with me. I saw how you looked at me, and I just assumed that you had plans in mind that may not fit inside the confines of friendship. You seemed a good enough fellow. It made perfect sense at the time . . .” Garrett Marshall had been the right peer at the worst time, qualifying him as the ideal scapegoat for her situation. But now, there was no way she could go along with it.

  Especially since she was quite certain she was madly in love with Derek. As ridiculous as the sentiment was now.

  He grimaced. “It’s nothing against you, personally, Miss Castle. I just don’t think I’m ready for that sort of commitment.” Garrett shook his head. “I think you’re beautiful, God, I do. And it’s not saying I won’t want to marry you eventually, but right now, I’m just not ready. I’m still not even thirty. Granted, I know I’ll have to settle down eventually, but I had hoped for a few more good years before that day came.”

  “But, you’ve been so . . .”

  “I suppose I’ve done my fair share of flirting. You are, after all, a lovely woman and you’re the first Ribbon that’s ever paid attention to me.”

  “You flirted with me because I’m a Ribbon?

  He smiled sheepishly. “Well, it didn’t hurt. You’re invited to events that I never seem to receive an invitation to, and when I’m standing near you, well, I do garner a bit more attention than I normally would. I’ve always been rather unnoticeable in some of the higher social circles, and I suppose I welcomed the change.”

  The horse next to her was fairly flatulent and chose that exact moment to relieve itself.

  Meredith couldn’t have agreed more.

  “I’d like to still call on you,” he continued.

  She shook her head. He may have taken a fancy to her, but for all the wrong reasons. He was like all the other hangers-on that clung about the Ribbon’s skirts, anxious for whatever scraps of attention they chose to throw their way. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

  He was standing very close now, reaching out for her hand. “Just because we’re not betrothed doesn’t mean we can’t continue getting to know each other better . . .”

  She yanked her hand back, repulsed by the idea and insulted by such a disgusting suggestion. “Actually, that’s exactly what it means.”

  He didn’t let go. Instead, he yanked her close, wrapping his other arm around her middle.

  She turned her head to the side to avoid his lips, but he kissed her neck instead. “Mr. Marshall!” she cried, struggling in his arms. “You will unhand me or I’ll have no choice but to—”

  “You son of a . . .”

  Derek Weston came up behind him, not bothering to finish his statement. He ripped Gar
rett away from her, his fist connecting with his face almost immediately. Garrett stumbled backward into a pile of straw, narrowly avoiding an upturned pitch fork. Derek pounced on him, drawing his fist back.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing with her?”

  “I’m sorry,” Garrett sputtered, blood flying from his mouth. “I got carried away.”

  Derek hit him again, knocking him unconscious. He was about to strike again when Lord MacCalistair ran up from behind, pulling him off the man.

  Derek struggled against his cousin while Meredith watched, her back up against the stall, stunned by the display.

  “What the hell was that about?” Lord MacCalistair yelled at Derek, trying to jar him out of his rage.

  Derek wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sweat pouring off him. “He was touching Meredith.”

  Lord MacCalistair looked over at her. “Your dress is ripped. Did he hurt you?”

  She tried to hold her bodice together, to somehow preserve some of her dignity. Because there was so very little of it left.

  She was embarrassed that he’d seen her like that, explaining herself to Mr. Marshall, trying her best to avoid his sloppy kisses. “He didn’t hurt me. I was actually handling the situation when Lord Sutherland assaulted Mr. Marshall.”

  “He had his hands all over you. I saw it. I heard you tell him to stop,” Derek rebutted, pushing his cousin aside.

  “I assure you, Mr. Marshall’s ardor was no threat. I was actually just about to hit him myself when you walked in.”

  Garrett was coming to, murmuring from his straw pile. “She wanted to get married . . .” he mumbled.

  Derek turned to her, his eyes flaring. “Married?”

  She tried to hold her head up high, but it was nearly impossible with the weight of her humiliation. “I thought he wanted to . . .” She didn’t finish, the idea of it all sounding quite ridiculous now.

  Derek’s eyes blazed with anger. He said nothing, shaking his head and storming out of the stable.

  “Hello? Is this where everyone is hiding?” Ophelia walked in at that very moment.

  Meredith looked up at the ceiling, silently willing the heavens to intervene.

  Ophelia stopped suddenly, her gaze jumping from her bloodied brother on the floor to Lord MacCalistair hovering over him, staring him down. Then she eyed Meredith’s torn dress.

  It was a motley crew for sure.

  She cleared her throat. “Mama sent me to find everyone. I guess she was correct in thinking you’d all be in the stable. Did I miss something?”

  Meredith shook her head. “Everything’s all wrong,” she announced, right before picking up her skirt and running after Derek.

  Chapter 31

  Meredith ran as quickly as her slippers could manage, desperate to find him.

  And then she did.

  Derek had nearly made it back to the house, his long strides carrying him quickly across the expansive lawn. It had taken her a tremendous amount of effort to catch up. Her hair had fallen down, her ribbons lost forever. Her gown was ruined, the hem caked with mud. And at some point, it appeared that she’d lost her shoes. She was certain she looked a frightful mess, but didn’t care. This was worth so much more than her vanity.

  “Stop!” she shouted.

  He didn’t.

  She ran faster and harder. As a young girl, she’d outrun him plenty, never tiring. Now her chest burned with the effort, her heart pounding.

  “Derek, please!”

  That did it.

  He stopped and turned around. “What?”

  She stood there, silent. She hadn’t quite thought through what it was she was going to say to him. Now that he was standing before her, looking at her expectantly, all she could do was stare back at him.

  He shook his head. “You’re still exactly how I left you that day.”

  She clutched her bodice tighter, his words much colder than the breeze blowing over her body. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s all about fortune for you, isn’t it?”

  “This has nothing to do with—”

  “Spare me any more of your stories, Mere,” he interrupted. “I thought maybe, just maybe, you had changed. I even dared to think that I’d been mistaken in the first place. I thought that after all these years of resenting what you’d become, that I could love you again.”

  He looked away into the horizon. “That I did love you again.”

  “Derek,” she pleaded. Five long years she’d waited and hoped to hear him say those words again. He did love her.

  He turned his gaze back to her. “But then you told me that ridiculous lie about selling my ring to help your poor mother. Did you think I’d have pity for you? That somehow I’d feel so badly that I’d fall to one knee right then and there? Do I seriously look like the type to ride around on a white horse and rescue damsels in distress?”

  “What?” She’d told no lies.

  “Did you really think I’d believe that you just decided out of nowhere to sell my family’s ring? I bet as soon as you learned that I was an Earl, you sought out an appraisal. Lucky you, having held onto it for so long.”

  He was hurt, pain present in every word, every pause. “Derek, please don’t do this . . .” she begged.

  “In the cottage—why?”

  “I don’t know . . .” How could anyone put what she’d felt into actual words?

  “Were you hoping to land a rich husband out of it or was I just another one of your distractions? Tell me, were you hoping we’d be caught? That someone would walk in while my hand was up your skirt, forcing me to marry you?”

  She clutched at her chest. “Never.” He was the very reason she’d fought so hard to escape reality in the first place.

  “Fortunately, you seem to have had a backup plan. Quite the catch, Garrett Marshall—old money, even older title.”

  “That’s not fair,” she charged back.

  “Did you stage this, too? Look at you—in that dress, with lip stain smeared all over your face. Were you hoping he’d be unable to resist you and that he’d compromise you? Or did you hope to be caught long before you’d actually have to put any work into it?”

  “Not again, Derek.” Meredith pointed a finger into his chest. “I will not allow you to paint me as this monster. You’re right. I wronged you terribly, and I will forever be sorry for that. I’ve poured over your letters for years, I’ve longed for your friendship and unfairly compared you to every man I’ve come across since you. Go ahead and fault me for it, but know that I’ve done whatever I needed to so that I could get some sleep without your face being the only thing I dreamt about. And I’d just about done it, forgetting about you. I was nearly able to entertain the notion of moving on with my life and actually marrying someone else instead of only settling for your memory. But then you, you, walked back into my life, and there’s been nothing but chaos since.”

  It felt as if her very soul were being wrung out and put on the line to dry, exposing every one of her secrets for all the world to see. “I hate caring, just as much as you do. But I refuse to sit idly by and allow you to nail me to the pillory. You question my loyalty and you accuse me of this treachery—of having the gall to change, over and over again. What about you, Derek? You fault me for compromising who I was—for all that I am, yet you’ve changed, too. You’re an entirely different person now. For Lud’s sake, even your very name has changed How can you judge me?”

  He raked his hand through his hair, the same way he’d expressed frustration since he was a little boy. “What choice did I have? You destroyed the man I was. I loved you, Mere. All I ever wanted was for you to have the best and I was willing to step aside to make sure you got it. When I felt that you were ready, I returned, willing to commit the rest of my life to you. You
took what I felt for you—my love for you—and made a mockery of it. And so I did what anyone in that same position would do. I picked myself up and made the best out of whatever small part was left.”

  She squared her shoulders. “Then you know exactly how I felt. I was trying desperately to make the best of an awful situation—trying to make it all better, trying not to suffer.”

  “But it was your choice,” he said. “You seem to have conveniently forgotten that little detail. You made that fateful decision then, and now.”