Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 9

Nine

“S he’s just left, milord,” Joseph said.

The grizzled and bent groom limped up leading Hamish’s horse, saddled and ready to go. Hamish groaned at the ache in his head, but the humiliation of being bested by a woman pained him more. He’d been picking his naked arse off the floor when he’d heard the door slam, and it was another ten minutes to rouse a servant, and twenty minutes more to locate a spare key.

“You could have warned me about her,” he said. “What horse is she riding?”

“No horse, my lord. Clarence.” Joseph sent him a gap-toothed grin. “Always partial to her, he was, and vice versa.”

“Aye, no wonder,” Hamish muttered, relieved that she was riding the sure-footed mule.

“A bit stubborn and short-tempered, that one.” Joseph grunted.

“I noticed.”

“But not with her.” He caught Hamish’s look and laughed. “Ah! You meant Miss Rosalyn. Well perhaps. A good lass, though, milord, as was her ma. You willna do better.”

If she doesn’t kill me first . Hamish lifted himself into the saddle. “I have your blessing then, Joseph?”

“Reckon you have gone beyond my blessing, milord.”

There was no smile now, only the assessing gaze of a loyal servant who’d watched Rosalyn grow up and lose her home.

“I should like it, anyway, Joseph.” They exchanged a long, measuring look.

Joseph nodded. “Cried her eyes out she did, worrying she hurt you. Look for her at the south lodge. ’Tis where she always ran off to when she thought no one was looking. She’ll take the long route, not knowing of your da’s new bridge on the brook. And Clarence never were so fleet of foot, even in his youth.”

H e’d sheltered his horse in a small copse of yew and followed a rocky, windblown trail, dragging his boots through the snow to obscure the footprints, hoping that the twilight would conceal his rough tracks, and praying that Joseph had the right of her destination.

The lodge was more like a cottage, bigger than those of some of his tenants, furnished with a table, chairs, and cots. The Barons Montagu had fed their shooting parties there when the weather turned foul. When the Maxwells took possession, they’d found evidence of squatters, long since cleared out. It wasn’t a safe place for a woman, not even a truculent one like Rosalyn.

Entering, he found the place empty and cold. Joseph had seemed sure of her destination, so he’d wait here for her a bit longer before searching elsewhere.

He tossed a log and kindling into the fireplace, but discarded the idea of a fire, which would signal his presence, and took a seat at the table.

The wait gave him time to think, something he’d done little of since the moment he’d laid eyes on the lady. He’d wanted her straightaway. He’d goaded her, seduced her, taken her. He’d been an absolute villain.

But the worst had been watching her world fall apart—again—because of Mindy’s revelations at dinner. She’d lost her father all over again tonight, and he blamed himself. All that questioning and prodding. She ought to hate him.

He prayed that she didn’t.

A shuffling outside made him look up. The door crept open, the wind rushing in, and she was there, gazing around the darkened room.

“You must be good now,” she said to someone outside, and then a dark mass moved behind her. “You must not shite, Clarence,” she said. “I don’t have a shovel.”

Laughter gurgled in him. She meant to bring the mule inside. It was time to make himself known.

“Do not piss, either, Clarence,” he said.

She went still, her shadow blending with the mule’s.

He struck a flint and lit the kindling. “Come and warm yourself, my love. Don’t be afraid. I’m not angry and I won’t strike you, even if I could puzzle out which of you to swing at.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath.

“I’m teasing,” he said. “I’m not quite seeing double, but if I were, I’d offer each of you half my kingdom.”

“You are truly all right?”

She would choose now to be obtuse. “Come closer, my love, and see for yourself.”

She inched around the table until she was standing next to him. He removed his hat and showed her the bruise on his jaw and the lump on his forehead.

“I truly am sorry.” She took a breath. “Lord Cathmore, what happened tonight…give the ring to Mindy.”

“You no longer want it?”

She shook her head. “I fear it will mean more to her. And I must go home.”

“Brockton Manor is your home, Rosalyn.”

Her gaze sharpened, and she shook her head again. “I don’t think you mean to be cruel, but you know this isn’t my home.”

“It can be.”

She looked away quickly. “I will not be your mistress.”

“Then be my wife.”

Astonishment lit her face. “Cathmore, we’ve only just met. You only know me as a thief and a wanton.”

“No. Not true. You’re a rescuer of children, and discarded wives, and one reluctant viscount. And you won’t have to steal from me. I’ll give you the world, and you may be as wanton as you wish with me. Besides, old Joseph and Mrs. Sullivan have spoken for you.”

She nodded. “And for you as well, Cathmore.”

“My father’s dying wish was that I marry into a noble family. Who better than the daughter of the house we have supplanted? You shall live better than any duchess, with gowns and jewels and carriages.”

She bit her lip and looked away. “Those matter little to me.” She began to pace in front of the fire.

“There is a small estate a few miles from here. I had thought to buy it for the land. It has a goodly number of bedchambers and a fresh coastal breeze. The ballroom could serve as a classroom for a very, very large group of children.”

She moved closer, searching his face, her eyes pooling.

“You must know though, Rosalyn,” he said, trying to sound stern, “you may only be wanton with me. I don’t hold fashionable ideas about marriage. Loyalty is sacred. No matter how many heirs I have, I should not take kindly to lovers.”

She frowned. After Mindy’s revelations, she must be considering the other side of the equation. “Perhaps that was why none of those other noble ladies appealed to me. I would never settle for ‘an heir and a spare and go your merry way’. Nor would I ask a loyalty I’m not willing to give.”

Her eyes searched his earnestly. “Cathmore, what I feel is…is powerful but we cannot know this is love on the evidence of twenty-four hours.”

She was hoping, and fighting the hope.

He touched her cheek. “Don’t we know, my lady?” He bent to kiss her cold lips.

She held back a moment before a sigh shook her and she surrendered. From his spot near the door Clarence brayed, and they heard muffled movements and then a knocking.

He held her close and looked up while Old Joseph shuffled in.

“You’re interrupting, man.”

He saluted. “Begging your pardon, milord, Miss Rosalyn, I’ve brought the sleigh for you. Mrs. Sullivan’s command. You’ll be much warmer at the house, and we’ve a Christmas party planned, as your father always liked. ’Twere meant to be a surprise for you sir, so you must act all astonished.”

“Hang the party, man.” He hugged Rosalyn closer.

“We must go, Cathmore,” she said. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“I’m a Stirling man, you know,” Joseph said, as if neither of them had spoken. “’Twas one reason your father kept me on.” He grunted. “I do like the Scots ways. More sensible. The roads will be better soon. You can visit the bishop, or mayhap you can travel up to Gretna. Nor would a hand-fast be amiss till things are more properly fixed. Mr. Logan’s nuptials have ’bout undone our Sullivan. I wouldn’t want to stress her heart more, if you take my meaning.”

A t the house, Rosalyn quickly changed to a golden silk gown that Mrs. Sullivan had pulled from the chest for her, and Cathmore escorted her downstairs. The Great Hall gleamed brightly with candles and a yule log. Mistletoe hung from the doorways, greenery and ribbons festooned the walls, and tables were set with a festive array of Christmas sweets.

Cathmore announced their betrothal to all present, Logan and Mindy and the small group of servants, and then he and Rosalyn made the ancient promises declaring themselves one, until, as Joseph had said, things could be properly fixed.

After a round of toasting Rosalyn spotted Mindy near the fireplace. Cathmore had pulled Logan away for some business, and the girl stood apart from the servants who weren’t quite sure how to address her.

Mindy saw her approaching and curtsied. “I wish you much happiness Miss Crompton.”

Uncertainty glimmered in Mindy’s eyes. She’d been so besotted with Logan, so busy with their child, and perhaps so preoccupied about her own future, she hadn’t realized the truth.

“And the same to you, Mindy. And my true surname is Montagu,” Rosalyn said. “Not Crompton.”

Mindy nodded, but there was no understanding in her eyes, not yet.

“Mindy, Lord Montagu was my father also.” She slid the Montagu ring from her pocket. “And this is most properly yours, since he sent it to you before he died.”

“ You had my ring?”

Rosalyn nodded.

“You were going to keep it?”

The pugnacious girl had returned, the one who had survived marriage to Ned Morgan. She still hadn’t understood.

“Father promised me that ring. He didn’t say it, but it was because he had nothing else to give me, either. But I was fortunate. When he died, my mother’s cousin took me in.”

Mindy blinked, her mouth dropped open, and her eyes filmed. “We are… sisters ?”

Rosalyn took her hand. “It must be so. Do you mind?”

“I…do you mind, miss? Will you acknowledge me?”

“Call me Rosalyn. And yes. Yes, I will, Mindy.”

She smiled at the shocked look on her newfound little sister’s face, then spotted Cathmore and Logan walking toward them. “Our father said the ring would bring us luck. I believe it has.”

The End