Romancing The Rogue (The Rogue Chronicles Book 1)

by Lana Williams

  Lizzie remained in the kitchen at Caroline’s request, enjoying the attention from the other servants as she recounted recent events. Caroline needed at least a few minutes alone with Richard so they might discuss the details of what had happened.

  His home was lovely. She’d expected something far different. Lamps in pretty glass bells lined the hallway. An intricate parquet wood floor ran the length of the hall then widened into the foyer.

  Halfway down the hall, Richard opened a door to the left, revealing the library. The paneled walls were interspersed with mahogany shelves. A worn but elegant red and gold rug graced the floor. Though rather sparse, the décor was in good taste. Only the Spartan appearance of the room suggested Richard’s lack of funds.

  A fire had just been lit but had yet to chase the chill from the room.

  Caroline led the way to the settee before the fire, gesturing for the maid to leave the items on a small table, nodding her thanks. “I’ll take off the binding so you can remove your jacket.” To her surprise, he sat without arguing. She pulled off her gloves, then held out one hand. “Taylor’s knife, please.” Again no argument from Richard as he gave her the knife.

  She cut the wrap carefully, not wanting to jar the wound by attempting to untie it.

  He winced as he shifted to remove his jacket. She set the cloth and small basin of water on the edge of the settee to assist him. The heat of his body surprised her, bringing an unwelcome awareness of him to the moment.

  “I fear your shirt is also ruined.” With a breath, she reminded herself that it didn’t matter that she’d never before seen him in a state of undress. She was here to assist him with the injuries, nothing more.

  “No matter.” The quiet rumble of his voice reverberated through her, causing her to bite her lip in response. The man was hurt. What on earth was wrong with her that she couldn’t keep her mind on that?

  She cut off his sleeve so she could better see the wound, the corded muscles in his upper arm and shoulder surprising her. A slice about three inches long marked his upper arm halfway between his elbow and shoulder. Her stomach twisted at the thought of how much pain he must be in. “Perhaps you should have this stitched.”

  He lifted his arm to take a closer look. “It will be fine. I’d be grateful if you’d pour some brandy over it and bind it.”

  “If you’re sure.” At his nod, she used the damp cloth to carefully remove the excess blood.

  Unable to resist, she trailed a finger along the indents and bulges of his arm, fascinated at the sight. He blinked several times but otherwise revealed no reaction to her touch.

  Berating herself to stay on task, she retrieved the brandy and poured it over the wound, holding a cloth under his arm to catch the overflow. A muscle bulged in his jaw but otherwise, he didn’t move. She wrapped the long strip of linen around his arm several times and tucked the tail beneath the wrap to hold it in place. She repeated the process on his hand though it wasn’t nearly as bad and had already stopped bleeding.

  “Caroline?” His deep voice in the quiet of the library caused her insides to quiver.

  Her eyes met his, their dark depths holding secrets she couldn’t fathom.

  Suddenly she was in his arms, held tight against his chest. Her arms wrapped around him, and she pressed her face against his shoulder. Whether he’d reached for her or she’d reached for him, she wasn’t sure. She only knew there was no place else she’d rather be. She’d never felt safer than in his arms.

  “I was so frightened,” she whispered.

  His hand cradled her head. “As was I. What were you doing there?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Explaining the situation would surely ruin the moment. Instead, she just held him tighter. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

  “I’ve had far worse injuries.”

  That had her easing back to look at him. “How? Why?”

  He shook his head and drew her closer once more. The heat of his body seeped into hers. She shifted her head, which brought her lips to the opening of his shirt. Unable to resist the moment of intimacy or the longing she felt for this man, she kissed the skin there, reveling in the experience.

  “Caroline.” He whispered her name in the midst of a moan then kissed her. His tongue swept into her mouth and heat pooled inside her.

  How she loved the feel of him against her. She moved her hands up to caress the breadth of his shoulders, wishing she could feel them with her bare hands. Instead, she touched his neck, curling her fingers in his hair.

  He pressed kisses along her face, his hands circling her waist then rising until all she could think of was whether he’d touch her breasts. Her body ached at the thought. She tipped back her head as he kissed along her jaw then down her neck.

  “Richard?” She wished he could read her mind so he might realize how much she wanted him to touch her.

  “Yes, my sweet.” He kissed her lower still, along the edge of the neckline of her gown.

  Her breath caught as his hand edged upward, his thumb finding the tip of her breast. She arched as the heat deep inside her spread.

  “That feels...” She couldn’t think of the right word for it.

  “Yes?” he encouraged her. “Tell me.”

  “Lovely.”

  His soft chuckle brought a smile to her lips. “That is an apt description. It feels lovely when you touch me as well.”

  She tipped her head to look at him, fascinated by his comment. “Truly?”

  “So good.” He moved to kiss her again but paused. “May I touch you more intimately, Caroline?”

  Butterflies filled her middle at the thought. Dare she? She couldn’t help it. She wanted more. “Yes. Please.”

  His hand cupped her entire breast, kneading it in a marvelous fashion. Then he eased his fingers inside the neck of her gown, causing that heat inside her to liquefy. When his warm hand found her bare breast, she moaned.

  “Like this?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes.”

  To her shock, he lifted her breast free of her gown, kissing ever closer to the tip. The sight of his dark head against her pale skin made her long for more. His tongue swirled around her nipple, and she gasped in response. When he took it into his mouth, suckling gently, she writhed against him, unprepared for the feelings sweeping through her.

  Then Richard kissed her, taking her higher.

  Caroline tugged his shirt free of his trousers and ran her hands along the smooth expanse of his muscled chest, careful to not bump his arm. The bulges and indents so noticeable on his arm were evident on his chest as well.

  His hands were everywhere and suddenly she hated the clothes between them. She pulled back. “Richard?”

  “I know,” he whispered, kissing her neck once again even as he eased her gown back into place. “We must stop.”

  She frowned. “Truly?” Of course she knew this was wrong. They weren’t yet married. But how could anything that felt this good be wrong? With a sigh, she decided to let Richard worry about when to stop.

  Instead, she kissed his strong jawline, then just under his ear, loving the changes in his breath when she did so. He smelled wonderful—a mix of the forest and bay rum. She loved the faint roughness of his cheeks against her lips.

  In that moment, she clearly saw the possibilities of a life with this amazing man. Her heart longed to trust him but was that only because of the delicious passion flowing through her?

  She ran her hands over his broad shoulders and down his arms, only to touch his injury, causing him to hiss in pain. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” Blood seeped into the bandage. “You’re bleeding again. We should call for the doctor.”

  “It’s fine. I’m probably moving too much.” He sat upright but drew her onto his lap and just held her. “When I stop kissing you, all I can see is Taylor threatening you with that damned knife.”

  “And all I see is you reaching for that damned knife.”

  He eased back but didn’t release her, smiling at her words
. “I thought ladies never swore.”

  “If you tell my mother or our butler, I will deny it to the end of my days. Are you certain you’re all right?”

  “Truly, I’m fine. Besides, we have much to discuss.” The seriousness of his tone didn’t escape her.

  She knew he wanted an answer as to why she’d been in the bookshop, but she had a few questions of her own.

  The lovely glow she’d felt started to fade. She didn’t care for that. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I am willing to discuss it but only if we can remain right where we are.” Already she felt tense at the thought of telling him what she’d done. “And only if I get to ask the first question.”

  He glanced down at her, his hesitation palpable. “Very well.”

  “Why were you at the bookshop?”

  He sighed. “How did I know you were going to ask that? Let me preface this by saying there are certain things I cannot share.”

  “Why?”

  He shook his head. “You only get one question.”

  Did that mean he only got one question as well? She’d be willing to wager he didn’t think so.

  “Taylor, the man currently residing in the scullery, has been acting suspiciously. I was following him to see what he’s been about.”

  She processed his answer, realizing it raised more questions than it answered. How did he know that? Acting suspiciously in what manner? Why had Richard taken it upon himself to follow him? But she held her tongue. Perhaps if she didn’t press him for more, he’d grant her the same favor.

  “Why were you at the bookshop?” he asked.

  This was the moment of truth. What did she say?

  She straightened to look into his eyes. Their brown depths were clear; he held her gaze steadily. A surge of feeling welled in her chest, causing her to blink back tears.

  In that moment, she had no doubt he had her trust, because he held her heart.

  ~*~

  Richard watched the array of emotions sweep across her face so quickly he couldn’t name them. When tears filled her incredible green eyes, his heart squeezed. Such an odd sensation when he didn’t think he had anything left in there.

  Were the tears for what she’d done or attempted to do before Taylor had drawn the knife?

  Or were they for something different altogether?

  He wanted to tell her she could trust him. That he’d help her in any way he could. But she needed to come to that conclusion herself. Nothing he said would help. Actions were what mattered, and he hoped his actions had proved him worthy of her trust.

  “I was delivering the book in exchange for another.”

  Disappointment filled him. He already knew that much as he’d overheard that part of the conversation. Wouldn’t she tell him the full truth?

  “At the request of the Duke of Wayfair.” She closed her eyes.

  Anger filled Richard. There couldn’t be any legitimate reason for Wayfair to request Caroline to visit that bookshop. Obviously, the man was up to no good. Were Caroline’s affections so taken with the duke that she’d agree to anything he asked?

  “He’s discovered the true extent of my father’s poor health.” Those eyes opened and latched onto his, pleading with him to understand. “He knows Father’s mind is failing, just as you suspect. At least I think you do.”

  He nodded. Sir Reginald’s erratic behavior would raise questions in the mind of anyone who spoke with him for more than a few minutes. It was no wonder they kept him home as much as possible. To think Wayfair was using her father’s deteriorating health to manipulate Caroline infuriated him.

  “My father made several bad investments and poor decisions in the past year, both of which devastated his business. Even before that, the East India Company was trying to force him to sell at an insultingly low price. Their offer has dropped further since then. We’d hoped to hold onto his business to regain some of the losses but they’re significant. It could take years to do so. With the pressure from the Company, I don’t know how much longer we can hang on. Profits are slim to none, but we don’t have the knowledge to make the clever decisions that my father did in the past.”

  “It almost sounds as if someone took advantage of your father, knowing he was failing.”

  “I’ve wondered the same. In fact, I’ve done my best to review those investments, but it’s not clear who’s behind the companies named in the agreements.” She drew a deep breath. “The only thing we have managed to do is attempt to reduce our expenses and sell any items of value.”

  “Such as your father’s favorite sheep painting?”

  She nodded reluctantly. “I didn’t think Father would notice, and our account with the doctor was due.” She lifted her hands only to let them fall, showing him how helpless she felt. “It’s been a trying year.”

  “And with three daughters to see married and the dowries gone...”

  “I don’t want the chances of Annabelle and Margaret making good matches harmed because word spreads that Father is crazed.” She looked at him again, as though she didn’t expect him to understand, as though it was too much for her to ask of him. “He’s not. He’s just become terribly confused.”

  He clenched his jaw, wishing he could tell her the truth of his own circumstances. He hated to see her so concerned. Despite his growing feelings for her and his wish to protect her from ruin, he feared that her marrying him would only trade one set of problems for another.

  He owed it to Dumond to seek justice for his death. He’d made a promise, and he intended to keep it. Whether he’d survive his quest for vengeance remained to be seen. How could he possibly plan a future with Caroline, raising her hopes that they’d have a life together, when he had to honor his pledge to his friend?

  His oath to Dumond came before Richard’s personal happiness, regardless of how it affected Caroline.

  Where did that leave them?

  Thank goodness he hadn’t given into his passion for this woman. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her ruined in the physical sense, or worse, with a babe out of wedlock.

  As she shifted on his lap, he couldn’t resist drawing her into his arms once more. She felt so right there. Yet he knew this was temporary.

  Three weeks.

  The timeframe he’d given himself to claim justice. To either live or die on this course he’d set. If he lived, he’d tell Caroline everything. Perhaps the time had come to step away from his diplomatic work and focus on a family.

  But he couldn’t allow himself to hope for a future when his life might very well end by then. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t help Caroline where he could. He had a few ideas about Sir Reginald’s investments and his business after receiving the report he’d requested. The least he could do was to put those in motion so the family’s future wasn’t quite so precarious. He also intended to make certain Wayfair paid for his misdeeds.

  Then Caroline rested her head against his shoulder again, and a warm feeling swept through him. He hadn’t felt like this in...well, in forever. Would it be so wrong to stop time for an hour or two so they might enjoy each other’s company?

  “Might we agree that for the afternoon, we set aside all of our worries and simply enjoy our time together?”

  She was quiet for several heartbeats before wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

  All was right with the world, and that was enough. For now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Moments like this were meant to be treasured, and Caroline relished them, well aware she needed to return home soon. But how could she step away when Richard held her so gently before the fire, sharing kisses, and talking of unimportant things?

  Setting aside all the issues that both separated and bound them together provided an interlude she was reluctant to end. Life’s complications could wait a little while, couldn’t they?

  When Richard grimaced as he shifted, she straightened to look at his arm. “Are you certain you don’t want to send fo
r the doctor?”

  “No need.”

  At least it no longer bled, thank goodness. She still didn’t understand how he’d had “far worse” injuries in the past. Visions of angry husbands chasing after him came to mind. While she would’ve believed that without hesitation two weeks ago, she no longer thought it true. She had yet to see him have more than a brief conversation with another woman and his actions seemed so purposeful.

  Something else was afoot here. The way he’d handled Taylor and that knife suggested a certain level of expertise in such matters. How had that ability come to pass?

  She tried to not be hurt by the fact that he hadn’t explained why he’d been at the bookshop. She’d told him far more than he’d told her. He didn’t give his trust easily, and she worried that her agreeing to the errand for the duke concerned him, especially since she hadn’t told him of it beforehand.

  How could she explain that her belief their betrothal might end had kept her from confiding in him? If they had a normal betrothal, circumstances would be quite different.

  Yet there was no point in longing for a true engagement—a true relationship with Richard. Marrying him wouldn’t aid her family. All she could do was enjoy the moment.

  She waited for him to suggest she return home, but he seemed as content as she to spend time together.

  When a message arrived and Richard stepped out of the room to deal with it, Caroline wandered to the window by his desk to look out over the garden. The day was still dreary, the fine drizzle never-ending. But his cozy library with the brightly burning fire proved a lovely way to spend some time. Or was it the man she was with who made it so?

  Her gaze caught on the wrapped book on his desk, where he’d tossed it upon their return. The sight of it reminded her the whole situation was far from over. The sick feeling of dread returned; the same one she’d had when she’d left home this morning.

  When the duke returned to London and learned of her failure to make the exchange, what might happen?

  She needed to know why the book was so important. Heart pounding, she pulled the silver letter opener fashioned in the shape of a miniature medieval sword from its sheath on Richard’s desk. With a deep breath she started to run it along the string that bound the paper.