Married to the Rogue

by Lancaster, Mary

  “No, he doesn’t,” she retorted, pouring herself a cup of very pale tea. “We haven’t been married long enough for him to take me for granted. Or, I, him.”

  “Well, he still needs shaking up a bit. Not sure he realizes what he has in you.”

  She smiled with difficulty and sipped her tea. “A very poor hostess. Lady Bilston will think me very odd, not to say rude.”

  “She’ll laugh herself silly when she hears you thought I’d abducted her.”

  Old Peg came back with a plate of greyish mush. “Vegetable stew,” she announced.

  “Thank you,” Deborah murmured. She forced the first forkful for politeness, but in fact, it tasted much better than it looked.

  “Good,” Rupert said, standing up. “Wait here, and I’ll send someone to take you on to Branwell once we’re –.”

  “She can’t stay here, Cap’n,” Joshua said reasonably. He cast his eyes toward the ceiling.

  “Ah,” Rupert said, scowling. “Fair point. Why can’t Old Peg run a respectable house?”

  “Because there’s no one but smugglers to drink here,” Peg retorted from the doorway. “Had to diversify, didn’t I?”

  “Dash it,” Rupert said, dragging his hand through his hair. “I suppose I’d better take you with me.”

  “Is it far?”

  “For you, ten minutes.”

  “Then, since I can’t ride the mare for an hour, I’ll come,” Deborah decided. “And after that, I’m going to Branwell to find Marvin and a post chase.”

  “Who the devil is Marvin?” Rupert wondered.

  Deborah had another idea. “Madam,” she addressed Peg. “Do you have someone you can send to Branwell with a message?”

  “There’s me grandson,” Peg said thoughtfully.

  Deborah fished inside the pocket she had sewn into her cloak. It had proved useful in the past for carrying her own things and the princess’s. She found a sovereign and gave it to Peg, whose eyes widened with plain greed. “He has to find a Miss Marvin at one of the respectable inns and tell her to wait there for Mrs. Halland. Then he has to come back here and tell me where he found her.”

  “Miss Marvin,” she repeated. “To wait for Mrs. Halland.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Halland, ma’am.”

  Deborah drew her cloak closer around her to pass through the narrow hall. “Will she do it?” she asked Rupert doubtfully.

  “Oh, yes. In the hope of another sovereign. You shouldn’t throw that kind of money around in a place like this.”

  “It was all I had.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emerging into the blessedly fresh air, she noticed for the first time the salty tang on the breeze, the plaintive cry of distant seagulls.

  Rupert looked up at the hazy sky. “Rickett was right,” he said with satisfaction. “The mist is coming down. Let’s hope the timing is right for us.”

  After only a couple of minutes’ walk from the inn, they came to a rocky cliff edge that dropped down to the sea. Here, the mist was more obvious. The sea faded into it, and odd wisps scudded across the sky directly above.

  “There’s a mostly hidden path down to a narrow inlet,” Rupert murmured, crouching down in the long reeds to peer over the cliff. “That’s where the ship is. Around the first bend, you’ll see it. You’ll also start seeing signs of the excisemen below. They’re expecting us to come around the coast from the river, so they won’t pay much attention above their positions. But we still have to be quiet. We don’t want them to see us until we mean to. Stick with Joshua.”

  She cast him a suspicious glance. “Why, where are you going?”

  He grinned. “It’s me they’re after. Naturally, I’m going to lead them the wrong way.”

  “But then how will you get on to the ship?”

  “Trust me, Coz,” he said carelessly and began to lead the way down.

  Since he moved fast and silently, she kept her many questions to herself. At the first bend in the track, she did indeed see a ship floating gently in a narrow inlet, and as they crept on, she saw odd flashes of movement among the rocks below. After a while, the downward track forked, one leading along a ledge around the coast, the other sharply downhill to the inlet.

  Rupert paused here and jerked his head toward the downward track. Joshua brushed past her, and she followed him on downward. Only when she glanced back did she see Rupert, bold as brass, walking along the ledge in the other direction, peering downward as though looking for a path. She and Joshua continued on their track, although as they drew level with the watchers, she knew it was only a matter of time until they were seen.

  Then a shout went up. Several men sprang out of the rocks, yelling upward. One even had a large gun, which was a danger Deborah hadn’t thought of. But she had no time to dwell on it, for Joshua suddenly seized her by the arm and pulled her onward.

  “Run,” he growled, and she did. She had to pay too much attention to her footing to be able to see Rupert, but at least there was no crack of a gunshot. And she was vaguely aware of his pursuers swarming up to the ledge and around the side of the cliff to keep him in sight.

  She and Joshua almost fell onto the beach below, where a small boat awaited them with a man already at the oars.

  “Who the devil is she?” he demanded.

  “Cap’n’s cousin,” Joshua snapped, picking her up as though she were a mere toy and dropping her into the boat. He pushed it farther into the water and splashed after it to clamber in and seize the oars.

  “We’re going to the ship?” she said in dismay.

  No one troubled to answer her, since it was blatantly obvious, and, in the end, she merely shrugged, for the longer she rested the mare at the inn, the easier it would be to reach Branwell.

  Up on the cliff, there was only one figure still visible, clambering around below the level of the ledge. And then the boat bumped against the side of the ship, and Joshua half-helped, half-carried her up the precarious ladder until urgent hands pulled her on deck. It seemed the anchor was already up, for a sail unfurled without warning, and the ship rocked and creaked. An instant later, it began to glide toward the mist, in the opposite direction to the one Rupert was leading the excisemen.

  “But how will he get to the ship?” she wondered aloud.

  “He’s already doubled back,” Joshua said, “leaving Jake—Peg’s son—to lead the excisemen on. He’ll catch us up at the next inlet, where we should be able to wait until dark to slip past the cutters.”

  It seemed an unlikely plan to her. From her own point of view, she hoped they wouldn’t sail too far from the inn, so she could still ride to Branwell and Marvin before dark. However, the most immediate anxiety was clearly for Rupert to escape capture and get back on board.

  She could no longer see the inlet where the ship had been anchored. Clearly, it had been a good hiding place. She looked up the rugged cliffs, fringed with mist, wondering how Rupert fared. A figure caught her eye, standing almost level with them. He did not appear to be moving.

  “Is that him?” she asked, pointing.

  The man who appeared to be in charge snatched a seaman’s glass from his pocket and peered through it.

  “No,” he said grimly. “It’s a damned exciseman. They must be watching this inlet, too.”

  “Damn, you were meant to be watching out for that!” Joshua fumed. “He’ll have seen us by now. We won’t be able to wait until dark if he brings the others down on us.”

  “I don’t think he has seen us,” the other said in tones of surprised relief. “He’s got his back to us, gesticulating. God, he’s not talking to the captain, is he?”

  Whoever he was talking to, he began to run like a hare in the same direction as his fellows and vanished into the thickening mist.

  By the time they sailed into the next inlet, which was even narrower and made Deborah afraid of the ship being crushed, the mist was drifting across in great clouds, making the sea and the cliffs only intermittent
ly visible.

  “Will he find us?” she asked doubtfully.

  “Oh, aye,” Joshua said.

  Despite the crew’s apparent confidence, it was a tense wait. Someone took the small boat and rowed the short distance to the narrow shingle shore. They waited. Deborah shivered as the mist blocked the heat of the sun. Then a gust of wind blew it on, and as the slivers of mist parted, the unmistakable figure of Rupert slid down the bottom of the cliff to the beach and ran for the boat.

  Joshua grinned.

  Only a few minutes later, Rupert scrambled aboard, clearly exhausted after his long run over difficult ground, but grinning with triumph.

  “Well done!” he gasped to his men as he collapsed on the deck. “I thought I was never going to get past that exciseman.”

  “Did he see you?” one of the men asked uneasily.

  “No, he just ran off in the other direction.”

  “He was talking to someone,” Joshua said. “Maybe they had another man nearer the road.”

  “Maybe. You were right about the mist, though, Rickett. Saved my bacon!”

  “Yes, and I’m very glad of it,” Deborah said sincerely, leaning back against the rail. “But I don’t see why you wanted me on board. I should have waited ashore.”

  “Couldn’t have the excisemen falling over you by accident,” Rupert said apologetically. “They’ve met you, remember, and we’d never have shifted them if they’d seen you. I did suggest you stayed at the inn.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It smells.”

  “You don’t notice it after a bit,” Rupert assured her. “But don’t worry. Just give us a bit longer to make sure all’s quiet, and then someone will take you back to the inn. Can’t be me, unfortunately.”

  “I know.” She frowned. “It’s time you stopped all this.”

  His lips twisted. “What’s the point? I can’t come home.”

  “Christopher will prove your innocence,” she said confidently. “Now that he knows about it.”

  “Hmm. Anyone have a tot of rum?”

  Deborah politely declined as Joshua offered her a flask, which was then passed to Rupert. The sun winked through the mist, warming her. She wondered how long a hired chaise would take to Gosmere. She wondered if anyone had noticed yet that she was gone…

  “Rickett!” one of the smugglers said urgently, starting forward.

  Like everyone else’s, Deborah’s startled gaze flew to Rickett, who looked bewildered. Behind him, swarming over the rail, loomed a man with water running off him. He looked impossibly like…

  Her heart lurched. A soundless cry stuck in her throat as Rickett spun around, wrenching a wicked-looking dagger from his belt just as the dripping man launched himself over the rail. He landed on top of Rickett, and the two men fell to the deck.

  Shouting instruction, Rupert threw himself to the side, peering for any other attackers, while his men lurched toward the interloper. A sharp crack of bone on flesh chilled Deborah’s blood and, then she realized the interloper was leaping to his feet, dragging Rickett with him by the neck. Somehow the dagger had changed hands and was pointed at Rickett’s throat.

  The smugglers all halted, staring. The attacker’s chest heaved with his panting breath, but his hand was rock steady, unlike his eyes, which blazed with fury, a hundred times more terrifying than the first time she had seen him.

  It really was Christopher. His rage seemed to batter Rupert. “Bring me my wife,” he snarled. “Now.”

  Deborah didn’t consciously order her body to move, but suddenly she was walking, then rushing across the deck. She saw his eyes widen. His dagger hand moved, his arm jerked, almost as though reaching for her. Impatiently, he shoved Rickett away, and that was enough for her.

  She flung herself into his arms, and they closed about her, cold and wet and blissfully strong.

  She began to blurt, “I’m fine, I’m not—”

  “You’re mine,” he interrupted fiercely, and his mouth came down hard on hers, possessive, ruthless, and utterly wonderful.

  She clutched at his shirt, anchoring herself in the storm as she responded from blind, helpless instinct.

  And then he tore his mouth free and pressed her to his chest, glaring over her head at Rupert. “If you’ve hurt one hair—”

  “Don’t be an idiot!” Rupert retorted. “What in hell do you take me for? Why would I hurt your wife? And what do you mean by sneaking onto my ship like a damned pirate? If you’ve led the excisemen to us—”

  “Who do you think sent them the other way?” Christopher demanded.

  Rupert peered at him. The tension seemed to seep away into the mist.

  A twisted grin formed on Rupert’s lips. “You wanted to stop the excisemen getting to me so that you could? Why does everyone always think I’m the villain of some Godawful melodrama? She thinks I’ve abducted Georgianna. You accuse me of abducting her, or eloping with her, damned if I can work it out, and I’d be surprised if you could. What the devil do I want with other people’s wives? Do I not have enough trouble on my hands?”

  Christopher’s hold on her loosened, though he didn’t release her. A rueful smile formed in his eyes. “I’m behaving like Dudley. I’ve made a complete cake of myself.”

  Rupert laughed. “Devil a bit. I don’t see Dudley swimming across a misty sea and swarming over my deck. But I will say you make an impressive pirate.”

  “For a cake? Add to your goodness,” Christopher said, “by lending me some dry clothes.”

  “Go below. Cabin on your left,” Rupert said resignedly, waving toward a hatchway. “Someone give Rickett the rum. And then pass it to me.”

  Deborah tried to tell herself she was supporting her husband after his recent exertions. But the truth was, despite the baffled observation of Rupert’s crew, she just liked the feel of his wet arm around her. He wasn’t leaning on her in the slightest.

  On the other hand, she did owe him an explanation, and by the way he swept her through the hatchway, he was determined to receive it.

  “How did you find us?” she asked, just a little shakily, as he climbed down the ladder before her.

  “We came to these beaches as children. I knew the inn and guessed it was there rather than the town that Rupert would hide out. From there, I guessed where the ship was and watched Rupert’s antics from above. And yours.”

  She followed him down the ladder. “I made Joshua take me to Rupert. I was afraid he’d abducted Lady Bilston, and I had to stop him.”

  “Why?” He waited for her at the foot of the ladder and took her arm, urging her into the cabin on the left.

  “He doesn’t love her.” She watched him close the door and raised her gaze to his face. “Dudley does. Abduction or elopement would have been wrong and horrible for everyone, including Rupert, who would have been sorry once his temper cooled.”

  “Why do you think that?” He walked toward her, holding her gaze, and she stepped backward to give him space. He kept coming.

  “Because he’s like you in many ways,” she said nervously. “He’s liable to act on impulse and temper. But I wronged him. If he is angry, it isn’t with her. It seems he merely had a pleasant talk with Lady Bilston and rode here while she went back to the house. I almost fell over Joshua, and so I sent Matthew back to the house to send Marvin to Branwell. I was trying to cover for Lady Bilston and make everything right.”

  A smile flickered across his face. He came to a halt in front of her. He must have been freezing cold, yet he seemed to radiate heat. “You thought of everything. Except that I might mistake the tall man you rode off with for Rupert.”

  She blinked. “I still don’t understand why you imagined Rupert would elope with me.”

  “Don’t you? He told me once he might try to cut me out with you. And you obviously like him.”

  “I do. He’s like another brother, one closer in age than my own.”

  “And I?” he asked. “How do you regard me?”

  “As my husband, of course,”
she said breathlessly. She slipped past him, hurrying toward the trunk chained to the foot of the bunk. “You should get out of these wet clothes. Let me find you some dry ones.”

  It was the first remotely intimate wifely duty she had performed, and his eyes seemed to burn into her face as she brought out a towel, a shirt, a pair of pantaloons, and a rather ragged coat.

  “Did you lose your coat?” she asked, rummaging for stockings and footwear.

  “No, I left it on the beach with my boots.” His voice came from too close. His hand reached out and picked up the towel.

  She stared blindly into the trunk for a moment longer. When she plucked up the courage to look, he had dropped the wet shirt on the floor and was unfastening his breeches. The scrunched towel lay across his shoulders.

  For a moment, her gaze clung to him. In the strange, misty sunlight permeating the porthole, his skin glowed, drawn tight over broad shoulder bones, ribs, and muscles. A scattering of hair darkened his chest, drawing to a thicker line leading down from his waist into his opening breeches.

  Her mouth went dry. He was beautiful. It had never felt so good to look at anyone, and yet the emotions were too strong, too confused, too…wrong. And when she lifted her gaze to his, he was watching her.

  She rose hastily to her feet, but he reached out and caught her arm.

  “As your husband, you say.” His voice was husky, vibrating deep within her. “Then, perhaps it is time I claimed a husband’s privilege.”

  Deliberately, he drew her against his naked chest, which was beguilingly, excitingly warm. He tipped up her chin when she tried to speak in panic about boots and cupped her cheek.

  His hold was light. She could have avoided it, but a delicious lethargy held her in place. He bent his head slowly and took her mouth.

  His lips were tender, caressing, and exploring hers. His tongue traced their shape, and she opened wider to him. The kiss strengthened, absorbing her, overwhelming her with profound, sensual awareness. Heat flamed, melting her into his arms. Her palm rested on his naked chest, slid upward over his shoulder, and she sighed into his mouth. She had never imagined the sweetness of such intimacy, the strange, thrilling arousal.