Jilted by a Rogue

by Cheryl Holt

  “Laura and I will be right here.”

  Victoria squeezed her hand, then tiptoed out as Amelia bit down a sob of despair.

  * * * *

  James was standing in the corral, the sun shining on his face. He’d spent several hectic days indoors, tending his animals. In many ways, they were his children, and he couldn’t bear for any of them to be ill. The crisis had passed though, and he could resume more normal hours and functions.

  He was exhausted and could sleep for a week, but first, he had to visit Amelia. Thoughts and dreams of her were taking over his life. He was quite obsessed.

  She drew him in, and apparently, he was content to destroy himself in the process. After all, Gibraltar was a small town, and it was difficult to keep a secret. An officer couldn’t blithely seduce a young lady without consequence. It was considered gross immoral conduct and provided a valid excuse to drum him out of the army.

  For a man whose goal was to hold onto his career by any means necessary, he was behaving like a lunatic.

  He glanced over, and to his surprise, Laura was lurking in the shadows. Since she’d stolen a horse, she hadn’t been to the stables. He’d told her she’d still be welcome, but she must not have believed him. He was delighted she’d arrived. She shared his love for horses, and he knew—better than anyone—that it was therapeutic to interact with them.

  “You haven’t stopped by in ages,” he said. “Are you here to help me?”

  She shook her head and pointed down the street, indicating she needed him to come with her. She’d never previously sought him out for any reason, so he was rattled by the request.

  “Is it Brinley?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer, but simply pointed down the street again, so he said, “Fine. Let me get my coat.”

  But she clasped his wrist, pulling him away, signaling that—whatever was wrong—there was no time to grab a coat.

  She dashed off, and he followed her, but she constantly peeked back to be sure he was there. When they reached the correct corner, he expected they’d turn toward his rented house, so he was alarmed when she continued on to the cottage.

  Had something happened to Amelia? Was she sick or hurt?

  Before he could question her, the door opened, and Victoria emerged.

  “James!” she said. “I’m so relieved to see you.”

  “Laura fetched me.”

  Victoria smiled at the girl and said, “I’m glad you thought of it. I wanted to apprise him, but I wasn’t certain I should.”

  “Is Amelia unwell? Has she had an accident?”

  “No, she’s merely had some terrible news. Did you hear the cannons?”

  He couldn’t have missed them. “Yes.”

  “It was her brother’s ship, but he wasn’t on it.”

  James’s heart literally skipped a beat. “He’s dead?”

  “No, no,” Victoria hurried to say. “He was severely injured in a raid. He’s on his way to London. He was anxious to go—so Amelia could nurse him.”

  “She’s not in London.”

  His mind was racing so frantically that he was dizzy.

  Evan Boyle had been wounded badly enough to be sent home. With the government cutting troop numbers, a maimed man was expendable, so his career was probably over.

  If he was in London—and not coming back—Amelia wouldn’t remain in Gibraltar. The realization seemed to suck all the air out of the sky.

  He wasn’t ready for her to depart! How could the universe be so cruel? How could Fate play such an awful trick? He’d finally met a woman who was worth the bother, but circumstances would whisk her away.

  “What is her plan?” he inquired.

  “She hasn’t made one. She only just learned about her brother.”

  “She’ll head to London very soon.”

  Victoria sighed. “Yes, I believe she will.”

  Her own plight was linked to Amelia’s so, suddenly, she was in a very precarious position.

  “Is she here?” he asked.

  “Yes. She was quite dismayed so we put her to bed.”

  “I have to see her.”

  Victoria stared him down, nearly scolded him, then relented. She nodded and gestured to the rear of the cottage, but she didn’t have to show him where Amelia’s bedchamber was located. He knew precisely where it was.

  Behind him, she said to Laura, “Why don’t you and I take a walk? Captain Hastings and Miss Boyle should be alone for awhile. I’m guessing they have adult matters to discuss.”

  She grasped the ramifications of what had occurred. Amelia would sail for London on the quickest vessel that could deliver her. Or…

  She could stay in Gibraltar with him.

  Was Victoria expecting he’d propose to Amelia? He had no idea how he’d proceed. For now, he just had to be with her, had to hold her and tell her everything would be fine.

  He reached her door, rapped once, then slipped inside. She was lying on the bed, dressed in chemise and drawers. A cloth had been placed over her eyes, and she was so still, he assumed she was sleeping.

  But she asked, “Victoria? Is that you?”

  “It’s not Victoria.”

  She gasped and lifted the cloth. “You came.”

  “Laura was worried about you. She thought you might need me.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  She extended her hand, and he rushed over and grabbed it. He eased a hip onto the mattress.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,” he said. “I haven’t been able to spend enough time with you.

  “I understand. Victoria told you? About Evan?”

  “Yes, she told me.”

  “He was felled by a pirate, slashed by a saber to the leg and the arm.”

  He winced. “That sounds terribly familiar.”

  “He went home—so I could take care of him—but I’m not there.”

  Tears flooded her eyes, and he couldn’t bear to witness them. “Don’t you dare cry. It’s going to be all right.”

  “How will it be?”

  “You don’t have to figure it out this afternoon. You just have to rest.”

  “It’s what Victoria keeps telling me.”

  “Well, she’s very smart in a situation like this. You should listen to her.”

  He leaned down and kissed her as he was always dying to do. She’d overwhelmed him so completely he couldn’t focus on any other topic. Then he stretched out and folded his arms around her.

  “How long can you stay?” she asked.

  “For as long as you need me.”

  It wasn’t necessarily true. He had horses to tend and a job to do and superior officers who would have a fit if they discovered that he’d vanished while on duty. But for the moment, he could tarry.

  “Does Victoria know you’re in here?” she inquired.

  “Yes, she knows.”

  “She didn’t complain?”

  “She didn’t dare.”

  Amelia snorted with amusement, then was still for a bit. Just when he suspected she’d dozed off, she said, “What if he passes away while I’m not there? What if he’s crippled and he can’t sail anymore? If he has to retire from the navy, what will become of him? The navy is his whole life.”

  After James was wounded, he’d struggled with those same issues, and he could have spewed a lengthy diatribe about a man’s mental anguish and fears, how difficult it was to muddle through in trying circumstances, but he refused to stir her anxiety. If Boyle was near death, or if he was injured to where he was crippled, they couldn’t change that fate.

  “Don’t worry about it now,” he said. “Just rest.”

  “I’m so sad. If he died, I’d be all alone. What would become of me?”

  “You’re tough, Amelia. You’re a survivor.”

  “He’s all I have in the world. If he perished, I’d be floating free with no attachment to anyone.”

  You’d have me! he almost proc
laimed, but he tamped down the comment.

  She was excessively distraught, and he was eager to supply any comfort she required, so he had to be cautious lest he make promises he would never keep.

  “It’s pointless to fret,” he said. “Let’s relax, and when you awaken, things won’t seem quite so grim.”

  “You’re wrong. Everything will still be just the same.”

  She nodded off then, and he continued to hold her. In the silence, he had plenty of opportunity to ponder. What did he want? What should he do? She would swiftly announce that she was leaving Gibraltar—it was the only logical choice—so how should he reply?

  He couldn’t decide.

  Eventually, he dozed too. He was exhausted, and the room was shady and cool, and she was with him. He always felt better when she was.

  When he roused later, the day had waned, and Amelia had sneaked off. She’d left him in her bed, the door closed. The cottage was mostly quiet, but females were murmuring in the front, and he wondered what time it was. She served supper at eight. Were they about to sit down to the meal? Had they already started?

  He tried to envision himself strolling out to join them, but it would be so awkward. Victoria would glare unceasingly, and Laura would watch all and learn a lesson about men and women that she shouldn’t learn.

  Like the scoundrel he was, he slid off the mattress and walked over to the window. He eased the shutters open and climbed out into the garden.

  He told himself Amelia would understand why he’d fled, and he’d return after dark—when he could hide his sorry conduct from the rest of the world but especially from Victoria and Laura who should never have had to witness it in the first place.

  * * * *

  Laura dawdled outside Captain Hastings’s house. She often loafed on the street to spy on her sister, but she never let Brinley notice. She was terrified Brinley might yank her in and not permit her to leave, so she couldn’t ever let her guard down.

  She was happy, living with Miss Boyle and Mrs. Bennett. There was food to eat, and no one hit her or shouted at her or called her names. No one was ever angry, and it was calm and peaceful. She’d never resided in a home like that, one where there was no yelling, so she’d stumbled into a magical spot.

  They were supposed to sail for London in a week, and she constantly lurked in the shadows as the adults talked. She hoped they would mention the date so she would know whether she would be accompanying Brinley or not.

  Several times, she’d nearly spoken up and inquired, but she’d been too scared. If she was informed that she would be traveling with Brinley, she’d be crushed. It was better to pretend, better to not know.

  For once though, she was concerned about Brinley. She hadn’t seen her sister recently, and it had always been her worst fear that Brinley would disappear, then Laura would be on her own. If that occurred, what might happen to her?

  What if…what if…Captain Hastings sent her to London without Brinley? What if she had to fend for herself there?

  Ever since she’d stolen the horse, she’d felt awful. He loved his horses, and she doubted he’d ever truly forgive her. Would he get even by sending her alone? She hated to believe he would, but in her experience, men could be very cruel.

  No matter what conclusion was approaching, she had to assuage her worries about Brinley. She flitted into the house and tarried in the foyer, listening, but not hearing a single sound. It was silent as a tomb.

  She scurried up the stairs and tiptoed into Brinley’s bedchamber, and she realized immediately that her sister had moved on without her. Her jewelry case wasn’t on the dresser, and she always packed it first. Still though, Laura crept in and peered in the wardrobe and the dresser drawers. They were all empty.

  She stood for a lengthy period, her pulse racing, as she struggled to come to terms with the monumental event. She’d been anticipating it for an eternity. It had finally arrived, and she was numb, frozen with dread and indecision.

  Ultimately, she forced herself to investigate every nook and cranny, certain Brinley must have penned a letter of explanation or goodbye or she’d have left money or…or…something, but she hadn’t.

  Laura leaned against the mattress, her spirits at their lowest ebb.

  Her sister wasn’t normal. She didn’t think or act like a normal person would. Their mother had died when Laura was a baby, and Laura didn’t remember her, but Brinley claimed she’d been beautiful, but malicious and stupid, lazy and spoiled.

  Those words described Brinley too, all except her being stupid. She was very, very smart—and devious and cunning and driven to get what she craved. She’d always insisted Laura was a horrid burden. She’d warned her to behave or Brinley would abandon her. Laura had tried her best to be inconspicuous and helpful, but Brinley had abandoned her anyway.

  What was the point of good behavior? Was there a point to anything?

  She went into Captain Hastings’s room, and the message she’d been so anxious to locate was there on his pillow. Brinley had written to the Captain—the man she’d known for a few weeks—but she hadn’t bothered to clarify her conduct for Laura whom she’d known for ten years.

  I’ve departed Gibraltar, and I’m happy about it. I can’t imagine you’d attempt to find me, but please don’t search. I’m fine. I’ve left of my own accord, and I intend to vanish forever.

  There was no added suggestion that he take care of Laura, that he watch over Laura, that he be kind to Laura. There was no mention of her at all.

  She grabbed the note and plodded down to the parlor, and she sat in the chair by the window and began to wait. Captain Hastings was rarely at the house, but earlier, Miss Boyle had told her he was joining them for supper. He’d likely stop by to wash and change his clothes.

  There was no clock on the mantle, so she couldn’t guess how long she dawdled, but it was a long time. Eventually, he rode up as she’d predicted he would. As he entered, he was very quiet, and he looked very sad.

  He was fretting about Miss Boyle’s brother. Miss Boyle was returning to London to be with him, and it was only a question of when. And of course, there had been no discussion of what would happen to Laura.

  She was stunned that Captain Hastings would let Miss Boyle go without a fight. How could he want that?

  He noticed Laura right away, and he said, “What are you doing here? I’m having supper at the cottage tonight. Are you coming too?”

  She nodded.

  “We can go together.”

  She nodded again.

  “What are we having? I’m starving. I hope it’s a roast.”

  She rose and walked over to him, and she handed him the note. He frowned, then read it over and over.

  “Brinley ran off without you?” he ultimately asked.

  She clasped his coat and led him up to Brinley’s room, showing him the empty drawers, the empty wardrobe.

  “Were you aware of her plans?” he inquired, and when she shook her head, he scoffed. “Then I don’t suppose you have any idea where she went.”

  He stared at the wardrobe, at Laura, then he laid his palm on her shoulder and muttered, “I’ll be damned.”

  She peered up at him, her eyes beseeching.

  “If she’s gone for good,” he said, “what will we do with you?”

  She braced, eager for the answer, but he simply wadded the note into a ball and pitched it into the corner.

  He marched to his bedchamber, calling to her, “Wait for me in the parlor. I’ll wash quick, then we’ll ride to the cottage.”

  She sighed and trudged down the stairs.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Amelia approached James’s house, and he was out front, watching for her. The sun was down, the gloaming settling in. It was another perfect Gibraltar evening, the air so fresh, the smell of tropical flowers filling her head.

  It was his last night renting the house. The repairs at his barracks were completed, and Brinley had vanished, so
there was no reason to keep shelling out money for it.

  She was suffering a wave of nostalgia about the place. It had been her first residence when she’d arrived in Gibraltar. She’d lived with him in it. She’d fallen in love with him in it. She doubted she would ever fall out of love with him.

  She’d sent a note to the stables, asking him to meet her. He was always busy, so she hadn’t known if he’d be able to sneak away, but she’d needed to speak to him in a spot where she was away from Victoria and Laura.

  “I was hoping you’d come,” she said as she walked up.

  “How could I refuse?”

  He grinned his heart-stopping grin, and she drank it in, cataloguing every detail so she’d never forget.

  He linked their fingers, and they hurried in and shut the door. With him abandoning the property, the landlord had already been in. The furniture was covered, the rugs in the parlor rolled up and shoved against the wall. Only his bedchamber remained as it had been. But it would be closed up too in the morning after he handed over the keys and reported for duty.

  They raced up the stairs and proceeded directly to his room. They tumbled onto the bed together, giggling like children, merry and delighted with themselves. Then he was kissing her and kissing her, as they shed clothing—what they had time to remove anyway. It had been several days since they’d dallied, and they were greedy to garner what they craved.

  He was so desperate to have her, and she was so desperate to feel him inside her, that they didn’t bother with slippers or boots. They mated like peasants in the field, with him lifting her skirt and taking care of business in a rough, almost frantic manner.

  She was thrilled to have him so aroused, to realize he wanted her so intensely. By some method she didn’t understand, she enticed him to an insane level. She couldn’t guess how many women he’d been with, but she liked to suppose none of the others had tempted him as she had.

  Would it be enough to win what she was anxious to have? She was about to find out.

  He spilled himself, then rocked them to the end, never seeming to get there, but definitely reveling in the journey. With a groan of pleasure, he collapsed onto her, and they started giggling again. He rolled onto his side, and she rolled too.