A Rogue No More (The Rogue Chronicles Book 3)

by Lana Williams

  “Oh?” She tightened her clasped hands, wariness holding her back as she remembered all too well the last time he’d had news.

  “Sir Alexander and the man he hired to commit the murders have been arrested.”

  “Truly?” She was shocked at the rapid turn of events. “How did that come to pass?”

  Her thoughts whirled as they settled on the settee, and he set her pages on a nearby table. Then he told her of Sir Alexander’s visit to Artemis Press and all that followed, including the confrontation at the card game the previous evening.

  “I’m so pleased everyone supported your efforts,” she said.

  “As am I. If Lord Thornton hadn’t come forward, I’m not certain anyone would’ve believed me. There might not have even been an investigation.”

  “Why did you want me to write the story for the broadsheet?” she asked. From what he’d just told her, he’d managed to tie Sir Alexander’s deeds neatly into a bow, complete with witnesses.

  He smiled again. “The story was perfect. Brilliant, in fact. You wrote it exactly as I’d hoped but better. I delivered a copy to Constable McConnelly with the names you’d created crossed out and the real names written in their place. Having Sir Alexander’s actions as well as the reasons behind them spelled out so clearly should make his investigation easier.”

  “But why have it printed?”

  “I want people to talk about it. To wonder if his arrest is connected to the story. Perhaps a few rumors as to that effect will circulate. Otherwise, the East India Company might try to keep the entire situation quiet. If he has wronged others on his march to success, mayhap they’ll come forward as well. And mayhap the details will teach others a lesson and keep something like this from happening again.”

  “That is a wonderful idea. I hope I had the details correct, though I’m certain Constable McConnelly will discover the truth.”

  “We can hope.” He held her gaze, sorrow in his eyes even as he reached for her manuscript. “Annabelle, I never wanted to cancel our contract. I only did so to try to keep you safe.”

  Despite his assurance, doubt surfaced. “I can understand if you don’t want to mingle our personal lives with our professional ones.” Her heart squeezed at the idea of trying to keep them separate, but she wondered if that was truly his preference. Especially since he was returning her fair copy to her.

  “No. Not at all. I would be honored to work with you. Your talent amazes me, and I defy anyone to believe in you as much as I do.” He reached out one hand to take hers, his fingers winding through hers. “Writing and creativity are part of who you are. And I adore every part of you.”

  “But if you feel—”

  “Not for a moment.” He shook his head as he set down her manuscript once more. “I don’t think I’ve made it clear how I feel about you, and it’s past time that I did.” He turned over her hand to press a kiss into the palm, sending frissons of awareness running through her. “I will be forever grateful for the night you convinced me to kiss you on the terrace all those months ago. That night shook my world. Then came the day you entered my office, and I realized you were one and the same as the author whose work I couldn’t keep off my mind.”

  “Oh, Thomas.” Annabelle didn’t think her heart had ever felt so full. The well of emotion threatened to spill over.

  “Hearing Sir Alexander threaten that you might be the next murder victim is something I never want to experience again. I’m sorry I caused you pain when I told you I was cancelling our contract. But I didn’t know how else to keep you safe. I know how much your stories mean to you, as they should. You are so talented. I only wish I could tell the world that I’m marrying A. Golden.”

  She couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the seriousness in his eyes.

  “I love you with all that I am,” he said. Her breath caught at his declaration, but before she could respond, he dropped to one knee before her. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I promise to cherish you always and forever.”

  Blinking back tears as she pressed a hand to her mouth, she nodded. “Yes. Yes, Thomas. I would be honored to marry you. I love you as well.” She eased forward to kiss him as her heart spun.

  He returned to his seat beside her and drew her into his arms. “I asked your father for your hand, but I never asked you. That was an oversight on my part.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I didn’t think marriage was in my future. After all, what man would want a wife interested in writing? I often keep ridiculous hours and my thoughts are on my story. I worried you’d prefer I stop, or I’d lose interest in writing if I married.” She straightened to look into his eyes. “But you made me wonder if it might be possible to have everything I want.”

  “I’m starting to believe that as well.” Then he glanced away. “The question is whether you are comfortable with my editing your story.” He released her to open the pages, revealing the detailed notes he’d taken. “I have only a few thoughts to strengthen it, but I would never want anything to come between us, including business. If you’d prefer to find another publisher, I understand.” He paused to look her in the eye. “But I promise you that you’ll never have a bigger admirer of your work than me, regardless of who publishes your books.”

  “I trust you, and I would love to work with you.”

  “Excellent. I would enjoy that as well. But if you change your mind, you need only tell me.”

  “If you promise to do the same.”

  He nodded, and she couldn’t resist trailing a finger along one of his dimples.

  “I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispered. “I am truly blessed.”

  “A rogue no more.”

  “Exactly.” He kissed her again, and passion rose between them. “I love you, Annabelle. I can’t wait to begin our life together.”

  “And I love you, Thomas. Our new life will be wonderful.”

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  Annabelle sat at the small desk she kept in her bedchamber, writing as quickly as her fingers would allow. Night had fallen in full, and she’d already donned her nightgown for bed. A fire burned cheerfully in the hearth, warming the room. Two candles burned on either side of her desk to keep it well-lit.

  Thomas would join her any minute, but she wanted to jot down the scene that had just unfolded so perfectly in her mind before it disappeared. She’d learned long ago that she wouldn’t remember it as clearly—if at all—if she waited until morning.

  “You’re working again?” Her husband’s deep voice brought a smile to her lips even as she kept writing.

  “Nearly done.” She didn’t look up, knowing he would wait for her to finish her thought. Perhaps not always patiently, but he would wait.

  “There.” She sat back, put down her pen, and capped the inkwell before turning to look at him. “I had a brilliant idea that I wanted to note before I forgot.”

  “Brilliant, eh? Care to tell your editor about it?” He drew her up from the chair to stand in the circle of his arms.

  “Not yet. Soon though.” She ran her hands up his dressing gown to wrap her arms around his neck then lifted onto bare toes to kiss him, her heart full. “You’re going to love it.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt. I adore everything you write. Just as I adore everything about you, dear wife.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be offering me a contract for the third mystery?”

  “Absolutely. You’re going to find the terms quite generous.”

  “How exciting. That must mean your meeting with Graham and Hugh went well.”

  “It did. They’re quite excited about the results from the new lending library but even more about the sales of your books.”

  “That’s because my publisher is clever at advertising. His efforts sent sales soaring.” She smiled, still so impressed with his skills. He’d published several new authors with great success as well.

  “The third printing of your first book might not have be
en large enough.”

  Her breath caught. “Truly?” The idea of so many of her books being read never failed to amaze her—a dream come true.

  “Want to hear the numbers?” He nuzzled her neck, sending delicious shivers along her spine.

  “Hmm. Not now. I have something else on my mind.” She tipped her head back, loving the desire coursing through her as his warm hands caressed her through the thin linen of her nightrail. His whiskered cheeks were a delight against her skin.

  “Oh? What might that be?” He kissed her as he molded her breasts, his touch making her feel extraordinary.

  Liquid heat pooled deep within her and passion weighted her limbs. “You. Us. Love,” she managed as her fingers tangled in his thick hair.

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed where the covers had already been pulled back. He laid her on the smooth linens then stood beside the bed and looked at her. “You are beautiful. I’m so lucky to call you my wife.”

  “You have a way with words.” She sat up to lift the nightrail over her head and tossed it aside then reached for the belt of his dressing gown. “Tell me more.”

  “I love you more each day.” His eyes glittered as his gaze swept over her body.

  “Thomas. I love you so much.” She trembled with love and desire, her fingers fumbling with their task. Never could she have dreamed how well their marriage suited her nor how much joy it would give her.

  He came to her aid and quickly shrugged out of the garment. His tall, muscular form never failed to catch her breath. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, flat stomach. She was eager to explore all of him again.

  Then he joined her on the bed, the heat of his body welcome against her skin. “You’re so soft,” he continued. “Perfect in every way.”

  He trailed kisses along her neck then lower to the tip of first one breast then the other, laving each one. She arched up as her breath came quicker, her heartbeat speeding with each move he made.

  She ran her fingers along his body, caressing his smooth skin until she reached the stiffness of his manhood. She’d learned what he liked in the months since their marriage. Now she reveled in using that knowledge until he moaned and caught her hand.

  “Stop. A moment, if you please,” he whispered. “You’ll have this over before it begins.”

  “Trust me. It already began.”

  “It did?” he teased, then kissed her deeply as his hand moved down her curves, found her center, and the wetness there. He touched her intimately, causing her hips to move in the rhythm he led. “You may be right.”

  She shifted her body along his, sighing as he took hold of her hips and eased her on top of him. His hands held her bottom, adjusting her to fit against his hardness.

  Passion pulsed through her as she took his hard staff inside her. “Oh yes,” she murmured, loving the feeling of him as part of her, of the two of them as one.

  “Darling, you are my world.”

  Her heart soared at his words. “And you are mine.” She placed a hand on his cheek, her gaze holding his, reveling in the joy she felt in not only their physical union but their emotional one as well. Had she but known what the gift of love would give her, she would’ve welcomed it with open arms. But only with Thomas. He was perfect for her.

  Then together, they rode through the storm, pressure building within her as her body tightened with each thrust.

  “Let go, darling,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

  As if his words gave her permission, she found her release, stars shattering behind her eyes as she gave into the moment.

  Thomas soon joined her, his body shuddering beneath hers.

  In the sweet moments of aftermath, he moved her to his side and tucked her in his arms, trailing a finger along her cheek. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “For showing me what true happiness is. For our life together. For the gift of your love.”

  Tears filled her eyes at his tender words. “Thomas, my life is so much more than I dreamed it could be.”

  He smiled, the joy in his eyes one more gift. “Then we shall dream together, my sweet, for we’ve only just begun. Always and forever.”

  ***

  Ready for another story in The Rogue Chronicles? Watch for Daniel Walker’s (the brother of the Earl of Aberland), A ROGUE TO THE RESCUE, coming October, 2020.

  ***

  While you’re waiting, I invite you to read A KNIGHT’S QUEST, Book 1 of the Falling For a Knight series, which is already available (also available in Audio). Here’s a sneak peek:

  CHAPTER ONE

  England, 1298

  Sir Garrick de Bremont heard the riders coming before he saw them. The clink of armor and the muffled sound of horses’ hooves on hard-packed earth heralded the unwelcome arrival. His horse tossed his head at their approach. He didn’t bother drawing his sword for he knew both who the riders were and what they wanted. That didn’t mean he liked it.

  Dusk was falling on Garrick’s third night on the road. Days were still short and the air often bitter this time of year. March was a foul time to travel as the condition of the roads was unpredictable, but he had no choice. Duty called. He nearly smiled at the sense of purpose he now had. That purpose had eased the loneliness that filled him the moment the gates of Staverton Keep, his family’s home, closed behind him. But the time had come to forge his own path away from the intimidating reputation of his grandfather, father, and brother.

  He stood, hands on hips, awaiting his guests, doing his best to shove aside the doubt that had been his constant companion since he’d agreed to this mission. Doubt that he could fulfill his oath. Doubt as to why he’d insisted on taking his brother’s place on this quest to Scotland.

  Before he could dwell on his worries any further, two riders entered his camp. The large, armed knights appeared ready for battle with mail and helms in place, and swords strapped to their sides, but Garrick wasn’t concerned at their fierce appearance.

  “Tell me you brought something for our supper,” he called out as they drew to a halt.

  The two men shared a glance before removing their helms.

  “Damn that second sight of yours, Garrick. It steals the joy from our lives.” Braden shook his head, his long dark hair and beard something admired by all the ladies they encountered. “We had hoped to give you a scare.”

  “Greetings, cousin,” Chanse said with a grin. He had lighter hair, was a bit shorter than his brother but stockier and far more charming.

  That the two were related was undeniable, and both bore similarities to their father, Garrick’s Uncle William. Family resemblance ran strong in the de Bremonts as Garrick was tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair and blue eyes like his sire.

  Garrick shoved aside his pang of regret at Braden’s words. He was well aware his second sight gave him an unfair advantage. Yet he had no way to halt the gift. It was like seeing or smelling for him. It simply was. Many times, he wondered where he’d be without it. In truth, he was afraid to find out, part of him fearing he’d be found lacking as though fighting a battle with no weapon.

  “You didn’t think we’d allow you to take all the glory of fulfilling a mission for the king, did you?” Braden asked.

  Chanse eyed him for a moment. “How long have you known?”

  “That you were coming?” Garrick folded his arms across his chest. Though these men were his cousins, he was never certain how much to share with them. He well knew the less he spoke of his second sight, the better. His father had taught him that from the time he was old enough to walk. Yet he also knew Chanse’s question was asked with good intent. “Last night as I made camp.”

  “Damn,” Braden said and tossed his brother a coin.

  Garrick frowned in disbelief. “You wagered on it?”

  Chanse scoffed. “You should know by now we’d wager on most anything.”

  Garrick could only laugh. Though he’d wanted to complete this mission on his own to prove to hims
elf that he was truly a man worthy of the title of knight, he knew his journey would be much more enjoyable with them at his side.

  The brothers saw to their horses while Garrick built up the small fire he’d laid. He was traveling light, hoping to make good time. That meant he didn’t have much food to spare. He carried only enough for another day or two. He’d planned to find a town soon, where he might restock his supplies.

  His destination was Berwick, a market city on the northern border of England. He was eager to reach it and begin his quest.

  “We rose early this morn with the hope of catching up with you,” Chanse said as he carried a large leather bag to where Garrick knelt, adding wood to the fire.

  “You must’ve left home shortly after I did.”

  “We were a half-day behind you, according to your brother. You haven’t yet had your supper?” Chanse asked.

  “Nay. Dried venison and cheese was all I had planned.” He couldn’t help but watch with hope as Chanse withdrew the contents of the bag.

  “We can do better than that.” His cousin set several bundles on the ground then handed Garrick a small pot. “Make yourself useful and fetch some water.”

  Garrick didn’t consider protesting. He’d traveled with Chanse before and was familiar with his cooking skills. The idea of a hot meal had him quickening his step to the small creek nearby. By the time he returned with the water, Chanse had assembled a metal stand with an adjustable pothook over the fire.

  “Where did you come across that?” Garrick asked, shaking his head in amazement as Chanse hooked the pot onto the stand, suspending it over the fire before adjusting the hook to lower the pot closer to the flames.

  Chanse grinned. “A man who’d been on a crusade had it at a tournament. I had our blacksmith make one that I could carry with me. Much easier than trying to find the right size sticks only to worry if they’ll catch fire.”

  “Clever.” Garrick glanced over at Braden who rubbed down their steeds with dried grass. “Still tends his babes, does he?”

  “He loves animals of any sort, but horses are his favorite. He treats them far better than he treats me.” Chanse continued his preparations, cutting dried meat and adding it to the pot. Then he opened another bundle, revealing dried, chopped onions, turnips, and carrots. He tossed those in the steaming water as well. The next pack he opened contained what looked like dried weeds.