My Dangerous Duke

by Gaelen Foley

The Prometheans had not come this far only to fail to get the information Captain Fox possessed.

  Rohan spun around to Kate, his eyes gleaming cold above his folded cloth mask. He grabbed Pete by the arm, as well. “Get out of here, both of you! Go!”

  “Rohan, save my father! I can’t lose him now!”

  “I will. Now, go!” As several more Promethean henchmen advanced on him, he turned back to them, positioning himself to cover their retreat. He drew that long, lancelike sword to hold the enemies off while Kate and Pete started running away.

  As soon as they ducked behind the corner of the nearest building, Kate looked back in terror. God, please keep him safe.

  But in the next instant, she realized that she needn’t have worried. Indeed, it was not until that moment that she understood Rohan truly.

  He attacked with overwhelming force, an onslaught of sudden, wild aggression from which any normal man would cower.

  He destroyed them.

  She watched, riveted, unable to look away as her lover ran a man through with his lance, yanked the blade out covered in gore, and swung to face the next, lunging at the second man with his left-hand dagger. The bloodcurdling scream was still fading from the first dying man when the second Promethean dropped to his knees, clutching his throat, blood pouring out between his fingers.

  Rohan kicked the second man to the ground, and strode toward the fray, seeking a third, who tried to back away. Terror flashed across the third man’s face as Rohan swiftly advanced and mowed him down.

  Pete pulled on her arm. “Come on!”

  “Wait,” she forced out. She felt nauseated, but she could not stop staring at Rohan. He was fighting his way through the melee of clashing sailors and Promethean henchmen toward her injured father.

  Papa was down on one knee, using his sword to hold at bay the Prometheans who were trying to capture him. As Rohan approached, one Promethean after another turned to face him; again he was hotly engaged, fending off three enemies at once. But when he reached her father and began helping him to his feet, Pete tugged more insistently on her elbow.

  “Come on, we’ve got to go!” Pete pulled her away from the corner, and this time, she willingly followed.

  The next thing she knew, they were running through the labyrinth of the narrow docklands streets, looking for the safe house. Through a lightless passage between two buildings, they raced across a cobbled courtyard, where their trespass awoke a huge guard dog.

  It let out a burst of vicious barking, but they pressed their backs against the opposite wall and passed out of the reach of the animal at the end of his chain.

  When they dodged out the other end of the courtyard, Pete glanced around, then pointed to the right. “There it is! Hurry!”

  The galleried inn sat at the end of the block. They sprinted the rest of the way and went barreling up the outdoor stairs, running across the long wooden balcony until they reached the door of the room.

  Eldred must have heard them coming. He opened the door and hurried them into the room, shutting the door and locking it behind them.

  “They should be along any moment now,” Pete told him, panting.

  “Miss Madsen, are you all right?” Eldred asked gravely.

  “Papa’s alive!”

  “Yes, and you look rather green.”

  “Do I?” She sat down heavily on the nearby chair, staring straight ahead, diverse bloody images stamped upon her mind. God, it’s true, she thought, still shaking. He really is a killer.

  Pete was peeking out from behind the ratty curtains, watching for them. “I see them!”

  “My father was shot in the leg. I doubt he’ll be able to climb those stairs.”

  “Then let’s go down to him,” Pete replied at once.

  “Let me ask first what His Grace wants us to do. You two stay out of sight,” Eldred murmured, going to the door.

  Eldred stepped out onto the gallery as Rohan came into view, helping her father limp along down the dark street. He returned in a heartbeat. “He’s signaled for us to come down.”

  “Bring the medical bag!” Kate said.

  Eldred picked it up as Pete helped himself to an extra pistol. Kate ran out first, rushing down the stairs.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked Rohan as she strode toward them. To her relief, he shook his head. “Papa, how are you holding up?”

  “Eh, never better,” he said with a wince just as Parker brought the carriage clattering into their midst.

  “Get in.” Rohan opened the door, waved Kate in, then helped her father climb into the coach. Eldred followed a moment later, bringing the medical bag.

  Rohan ordered Pete up onto the top of the carriage with Wilkins and finally vaulted in himself with an agile spring. He had barely shut the door before the carriage was in motion once again.

  “I am so glad to see you two,” Kate uttered. “Were you followed?”

  “No,” Rohan murmured.

  “The bleeders ran away—from him!” her father said with a hearty laugh and an approving glance at Rohan. “Your father would be proud, lad.”

  “Where are we going?” Kate asked in a shaky voice.

  “Back to my house to get the book,” Rohan answered. They had not dared bring The Alchemist’s Journal anywhere near the battle to avoid the least chance of the Prometheans getting their hands on it.

  “As soon as we have it,” Rohan added, “we shall put out to sea.”

  “You mean . . . to the Alchemist’s Tomb?” she asked, with an uneasy glance from him to her father. “So quickly?”

  “No choice. They got Tewkes,” Papa muttered, grimacing as Eldred tried to begin bandaging his leg. “I can do that my bloody self! Give it ’ere.”

  “Who’s Tewkes, Papa?”

  “You don’t remember him? My old bo’sun, after Charley. Spectacles. White hair sticks straight up like a little downy chick’s.”

  “Ohh! Old Tewkes! Lord, is he still with you?” she exclaimed, remembering him vaguely. “He must be eighty by now! How did he get captured?”

  “Not so quick as he used to be. Damned fools, I told them all to stay on the ship. But m’crew feared for my life. When they heard the shots, they came running. Trouble is, old Tewkes knows as well as I do where we found the Tomb.” He shook his head. “O’Banyon must have told those blackguards that some of my old-timers were there when we found that cursed place.”

  “Yes, we’ll have to be under way as quickly as possible,” Rohan confirmed. “The last thing we saw was the Prometheans boarding their ship. They dragged Mr. Tewkes away with them. Considering they’ve already embarked, they’ve got a lead on us. So I’m afraid it’s a race now. We’ve got to beat them to the Tomb.”

  “Yes, well,” her father added, “even if they force Tewkes to show them where it is, they’ll not survive the traps inside that wicked place without your mother’s book.”

  “Traps?” Kate murmured.

  “Aye, the whole place is rigged with cunning snares and mechanical devices—like the one that killed your mother. The Alchemist’s Journal contains the clues that Warrington will need to make it in and out of there alive. Even so, you be careful,” her father warned the duke. “Those cruel puzzles are all too easy to get wrong.”

  Kate turned to Rohan in alarm, but he was silent.

  Then her father grunted with pain when the carriage hit a bump.

  “Are you hurt badly, Papa? Tell me the truth,” she demanded, peering worriedly at his progress with the bandages in the dark.

  “Just a flesh wound. Believe me, I’ve had worse. Glad to see these London streets are still the same as I remember—full of holes.”

  She smiled at his grumbling, then hugged him, mindful of his wound. “I can’t believe you’re alive,” she whispered, then she gazed at Rohan. “Thank you.”

  He seemed emotionless, staring back at her, his gleaming eyes cold and otherworldly, his angular face expressionless. He said nothing. Her gaze fell slowly to the dark streaks and stains that
marred his clothes. She held her breath, realizing he had blood all over him.

  He looked out the window.

  The carriage rolled on through the night. A gulf as wide as the Thames seemed to separate them while Eldred tried to help her irked father tend his wound.

  When they arrived at Rohan’s mansion, again, all was speed, efficiency, and action.

  Rohan forbade Kate to change out of her costume until they were safely aboard her father’s ship and well away from London.

  Then he went to change his clothes, while she ran upstairs to the bedchamber and retrieved her mother’s book from the bottom of her borrowed traveling chest.

  When she caught a glimpse of herself in the bedchamber mirror, she sighed at her dowdy appearance and continued packing, throwing the few items of warm clothing back into the trunk.

  But as she handled the same, ill-fitting, stolen garments that she had been wearing since they gave them to her, tears suddenly pricked her eyes without warning.

  She did not know why such an inconsequential thing as clothes should hit her so hard at the moment, only that she had not seen her father in how many years, and she did not even have a decent gown left to meet him in.

  The stranger’s wardrobe seemed a reminder of all she had lost—and she feared what she had lost tonight was Rohan.

  Maybe he really could not love her.

  After what she had seen . . . maybe his darkness was greater than her light.

  He had claimed he was not fit for love. At least now she finally understood what he was talking about.

  “Are you all right?”

  Quickly blinking back her tears, she turned in surprise and found him leaning in the doorway. She did not know how long he had been watching her. She had not heard him arrive.

  She cleared her throat and nodded, smoothing her skirts. “Yes, of course.” He had changed into fresh clothes, and indeed, looked more intimidating than ever, dressed entirely in black.

  The fractured look in his pale eyes worried her, however, and she also noticed he had a bandage wrapped around the palm of his right hand. “You’re hurt.”

  “Cut myself a bit. It’s nothing. I barely feel it.” He walked into the bedchamber and picked up her traveling trunk.

  Kate struggled for something to say to try to bridge the gulf between them. She had seen him like this before. Bleak, remote, formidable. She remembered the day she had discovered him practicing his combat skills in the Hall of Arms at Kilburn Castle.

  He had not liked her seeing that, and had definitely withdrawn from her when she had shown him the dragon book with the Initiate’s Brand. But even when he had escorted her to her cottage, barely speaking to her along the way, even then, he had not been as completely shut down as he was now. It was as if he was slipping away from her, into the night.

  She touched his arm, trying to bring him back. “Thank you for saving my father.”

  He just nodded, then he pulled away and carried the trunk out, mumbling as he brushed past her. “Best hurry.”

  She frowned as he stalked out, but she followed a moment later. As she walked down the stairs, she could hear Papa cursing with seaworthy vigor as he stood in the entrance hall, gingerly putting some weight on his bandaged leg. Without a word, Eldred handed him a wooden crutch to lean on, apparently keeping a supply of various medical items on hand, given his master’s occupation.

  “Anything I can do to help?” Kate offered as she joined them.

  “Good as new,” Papa vaunted, sending her a grin.

  “We need to go,” Rohan urged them from the doorway, before disappearing again.

  “And we’re off,” Papa replied. He nodded his thanks to the butler, at whom Kate also smiled.

  “Good-bye for now, Eldred.”

  “Safe journey, miss.” Eldred followed them to the door.

  Parker was waiting with the coach under the portico as they walked outside. “All aboard,” the sergeant said ruefully, opening the carriage door.

  Kate let her father go ahead of her and waited to assist if he needed help. But her attention was on Rohan, who was standing restlessly at the edge of the portico, his back to them as he smoked a cheroot.

  She could not recall seeing him smoking before.

  All of a sudden, she heard running footsteps coming from behind her. “Wait for me!”

  Rohan and she both turned around to look as Peter Doyle came rushing out of the house, clutching his pack of supplies.

  “I’m coming with you!” he declared.

  “You kept your end of the bargain, Pete. You’re free to go back to Cornwall,” Rohan said with a distant hint of wry amusement.

  “But I’ve come this far, haven’t I, sir?”

  “Hm. I fear we’ve made an adventurer of you, Peter. It’s up to Captain Fox. It’s his ship.”

  “Cap’n?” Peter asked her father hopefully.

  “Caleb’s boy, are you?” Papa tossed back.

  “He’s my uncle, sir.”

  “Good enough. Get in, then.”

  “Thank you, Cap’n!” Pete grinned and bounded into the carriage.

  Kate hesitated, waiting uncertainly for Rohan. As he dropped his cheroot on the ground and stepped on it, putting out the spark, all of a sudden, a stately black Town coach drawn by a team of four black horses rolled to a halt in front of Rohan’s home.

  He glanced at it, while Kate’s heart sank.

  Oh, no, she thought, dreading the return of one of his persistent lady conquests. Of all the bad timing.

  But then, to her surprise, the door opened, and a handsome dark-haired gentleman jumped out of the coach.

  “Rohan Kilburn, Duke of Warrington! A word with you, sir! No, I must insist. Immediately!”

  “As do I!” shouted a second man, lean and fair-haired, who also emerged from the carriage.

  “Max, Jordan,” Rohan said uncomfortably.

  “There he is, the villain!” a golden-haired lady taunted from inside the coach.

  “Daphne?” Rohan mumbled, hands on his hips.

  Kate worried that maybe these were two of the countless men he had cuckolded. Angry husbands to contend with.

  “Don’t blame me, Your Grace!” a dainty red-haired woman chimed in from the carriage, waving to Rohan. “I told them you would tell us when you’re ready! They wouldn’t listen—”

  “You nefarious bastard!” the dark-haired man greeted him in a tone of jovial indignation.

  Kate exhaled slightly at the jubilant undertone of humor in his voice.

  “What’s afoot?” Rohan asked them.

  “Oh-ho, don’t play innocent with us!” the sandy-haired man warned.

  “I knew you were acting odd when we saw you earlier today!”

  Kate let out a furtive gasp. Agents of the Order!

  “How could you look us in the eyes and not breathe a word of what’s been going on?”

  “Ignore my husband, Warrington. We’re very happy for you—and your lady! Hullo! I’m Lady Rotherstone and this is my friend, Miss Portland! We’re very eager to meet you!”

  The two lovely women were now waving at Kate.

  Who wanted to crawl under a rock, in her hideous disguise.

  But his two friends were not done scolding him. “To think that we, who knew you since we were boys—the closest thing you’ve got left to family!—had to hear this news secondhand at some bloody soiree!”

  “We didn’t even need Miss Portland to tell us the gossip this time. It’s all over Society—that you’re married!” the two exclaimed nearly in unison and quite matched in their fond outrage.

  “Bloody hell,” Kate murmured, borrowing a favorite from Rohan’s idiom.

  “Is this the lucky lass?” The light-haired gentleman sketched an elegant bow toward Kate.

  “Bride of the Beast. Heaven help you, poor thing,” the dark-haired one drawled.

  She began gingerly backing away. “Um, actually—I’m afraid there has been a bit of a, er, misunderstanding.”

&n
bsp; The one he’d called Max lifted one eyebrow, while his friend, Jordan, frowned, studying her. “How’s that?”

  Rohan cut this charming conversation short. “I have to go. Get in the carriage, Kate.”

  “Ah, so Kate’s her name!” Max taunted, sending his friend an aside. “Did you know he had a Kate?”

  “No. Last I heard, it was—never mind that.” Jordan smiled innocently at them.

  “Aren’t you at least going to introduce us?” Max demanded.

  “Some other time. Come on.” Rohan propelled her firmly toward the carriage.

  Kate offered the two handsome noblemen a hapless half smile, mortified in the extreme by her frumpy costume; the padding complicated her efforts to get into the stupid carriage.

  “Where are you rushing off to, anyway?” Max persisted. “You know, you’re being damnably rude.”

  “Max, it’s Warrington. You know it’s just his way,” Jordan drawled.

  Kate finally wedged her chubby, padded figure into the carriage. They all seemed friendly enough, but this glamorous foursome in ball gowns and velvet coats made her feel even more awkward in her silly mob cap, funny spectacles, and dowdy dress.

  Jordan had been studying her costumed appearance in amusement, but now glanced quizzically at Rohan, as if to say, Not your usual fare, eh?

  “Sorry, we have to go,” he mumbled to his friends as he followed her into the coach. “I’ll call on you when I get back.”

  “When will that be, damn it?” Max demanded.

  “I don’t know!” he bit back as he banged the carriage door shut. “Parker, for God’s sake, drive!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Was it something we said?” Max taunted, stepping out of the way as his carriage rolled into motion. “Ma’am.”

  “Good-bye, Kate!” Jordan sent her a roguish salute.

  She nodded to them, feeling like a fool.

  The ladies still sitting in the coach had not heard the particulars of their exchange, but they waved at her, calling invitations that she should come for tea.

  She waved back haplessly just to avoid being rude.

  “Married?” Her father raised an eyebrow, glancing suspiciously from her to Rohan, but he said nothing.

  “No, Papa,” Kate answering for them with a blush. Suddenly realizing that perhaps she ought to worry what her formidable sire might have to say about their arrangement, now that he suddenly reappeared in her life, she cast about for a speedy change of subject. She turned to Rohan. “How nice to meet your friends.”