Escape with A Rogue (26 page)

But she could not stop the anger that made her snap, “However, if you wish more of the money, you will leave the maids alone.”

Philip lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. It was not a gesture of rage—his eyes were panicked. “What you saw in here doesn’t mean anything. I could never have hurt Grace.”

For a moment, she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Philip’s desperation intensified. “Dear God, Maddy, you have to believe me. In the maze, I asked her to
marry
me. I had rode back from the prizefight I’d arranged to propose to her. She said yes. When I left her there, I believed I was going to be a married man. I went back to the house to plan how I would approach Father and Grandfather.”

He had proposed to Grace, just as Jack had done a few minutes before him. “Did you love her?”

“Dear God, Madeline,
yes
. You must believe me—” He looked truly devastated and her heart ached for him. But then he grasped her shoulders and shook her hard. Liquor wafted from his breath—and not the watered down brandy she put in Father’s study, either.

“I do. Of course, I do.” But he wouldn’t stop shaking her—

“My lady?” Heels struck the floorboards hard and Philip’s hand dropped to his side.

It was Jack’s voice, filled with barely controlled anger and threat. He stormed in through the open terrace doors. “Are you all right, my lady?”

She felt a startling sense of relief, even though she’d just stalked away from him minutes ago. Jack had disobeyed her—he hadn’t returned to the stables. At this moment, she didn’t care.

Philip’s eyes widened, showing the blood-shot whites. “Get out!”

Jack took the furious command without even a blink. “Her ladyship appears to need some assistance, so I’ll take my orders from her, if you please, my lord.”

“You’ll take your orders from me or be turned out without a reference,” Philip barked. “I’ve a good mind to—”

“Enough.” Madeline rushed forward. Philip’s attack had stunned her, but Jack’s presence had restored her strength. She could see the fury mounting high in Philip’s eyes. What if Philip became too interested in Jack or tried to hit him?

Jack’s cap shadowed his face, his dyed hair changed his appearance, and she believed Philip hadn’t paid much attention to Jack two years ago. But she couldn’t take the risk. This could only work if Jack stayed in the background, quiet and dutiful like any other servant. But he wouldn’t—because of her.

“Thank you, Roberts, I am fine—” She stopped. Jack’s large hands had clenched into fists.

He had killed a man to protect her. Philip was a bully when drunk and he knew how to fight, but to unleash Jack on him would be like setting a wolf on a hare. She could not do that to her brother, no matter what he’d done.

“Th—there is something I wish to show you, Roberts,” she said desperately. “A cut on Penelope’s leg. Would you accompany me back to the stables?”

* * *

Madeline stepped onto the flagstone terrace and sucked in a deep breath of late afternoon air. How much had Jack heard? Did he now know her secret, too? Did he know that Philip was the one who had gone into the maze after him?

She turned to Jack. “You can’t come to my rescue if it’s going to put you at risk.”

The obstinate man shook his head. “That’s why I’m here. I won’t stop.” His voice softened. “Do you actually want to go to the stables? We can talk there.”

Talk of what? What he must have overheard? But she didn’t want to go back into the house. It felt more confining than Dartmoor’s walls.

When they reached the stables—after walking in silence—Jack left the doors open to let in the light. He busied himself with filling the water troughs as though he knew she needed time to collect herself.

The warm glow of the afternoon sun caressed Jack’s face as he worked. She did not quite know where to begin. Jack had casually told her he was illegitimate. It shouldn’t matter to him if she was. But her parents had insisted it would be terrible for her if society knew she was the daughter of a land steward. Jack thought her an earl’s daughter and a lady. He admired her because of her position. Would it change how he felt about her?

Gathering courage, she asked, “How much did you hear, Jack?”

“Not much. When I got to the doorway, he was shaking you and I saw red.” He stroked the star on Jupiter’s forehead. “That’s why you aren’t afraid of inviting the gentlemen back. Deep in your heart, you do believe it is your brother.”

“No. Philip was the one who could have saved you, Jack. He was the one who saw Grace alive after you had left the maze.” There. She’d said it, after having it weigh on her since the first moment she’d seen him in Dartmoor. The rest came out in a whoosh. “He told Grandfather, who insisted he keep it secret—as I told you. That’s why I believe he’s innocent. I don’t believe he would have told my grandfather about your innocence if he was guilty.” She feared she hadn’t made sense, and she rushed on. “Just now, Philip told me he asked Grace to marry him in the maze and she said yes. He wouldn’t have strangled her out of jealousy if she had agreed to marry him.”

She expected Jack to become angry. He’d asked her for the name of the witness who had come forward, and she had not told him.

He continued with his work, but he watched her from the corner of his eye. His thoughtful scrutiny unnerved her. “You are still thinking that a member of my family shot at me, aren’t you? You don’t believe they might care about me, because of the money.”

Then she laughed. It came out bitter—harsh and cold in the quiet stables. When she’d been a child, she’d lived in constant fear she would be cast out of the house. Her mother had feared that Father would someday refuse to raise the child of a lowborn man. Father had been proud, but he had let her stay, and he had always been kind to her, even if he had not loved her.

“The money has changed everything,” she whispered. “I think each one of them hates me now.” She sank back against one of the stall doors and buried her face in her hands. But she couldn’t cry. She simply felt empty.

“I know what it’s like to look after people who don’t really want you to do it, love.” Jack set an empty pail down, then eased her hands away from her face.

“I don’t know what to do. Grandfather entrusted me to take care of his fortune and use it to look after them. Do I buy their love by giving them money they will surely throw away? Or do I do what’s best for them?”

“Sometimes, as hard as it is, you have to do what is best for
you
,” he said.

He stroked her cheek with the sweet gentleness he used on the horses. She didn’t want to talk of her past any more, in case she said what she should not. “I know you left London because of the death of your best friend’s wife. But why did you want to become a groom?”

“It made me happy.” His eyes blazed at her, brilliantly green in the golden light. She saw happiness had been new and astonishing to him. “There were horses in the stews where I grew up. Horses that saw a great deal of abuse. I tried to tend them. When I was a boy, I’d step in to stop a man whipping his horse—a few times I ended up being hit with the crop or stick instead.”

She could easily see him doing that. Acting the protector.

“I began working for a gaming hell when I was fourteen and the proprietor, a man named William Hart, brought me with him to Tattersall’s. When he saw how the horses took to me, he put me in charge of his racing animals. My skill with horses was one of the few honest ones I had.”

Hart. That had been the name the assassins on the moor had used. “Wasn’t your father Hart?”

“I’ve no idea who my father was, but it wasn’t Hart. He took me in after he rescued me from being beaten up by a gang of thugs. I owed him my life for that. I was alone then—it was after my mother died. As for my father—” He gave a sudden cheeky but rueful grin. “My mother was a high-class courtesan when she became pregnant with me. The Marquis of Deverell’s father was one of my mother’s lovers, twenty-eight years ago. I could be Deverell’s half-brother.”

Her heart ached for him. She’d always felt almost rootless because her father had been a land steward. What would it be like to have no idea at all who he had been?

It was horrible to think Jack had been fourteen, alone, and abused. She could understand why he had owned gaming hells. He must have learned the trade from William Hart.

The back of his knuckles followed the curve of her face, stealing her breath, making her legs tremble. No wonder wild horses gentled at his touch—they probably lost all their strength, too.

She wanted to forget the past. She hated the past. For once—just for once—she wanted to think of nothing but now.

“I left my money in London, so I needed work. I remembered the peace I’d found with horses. It was by chance that I came to Eversleigh, and met you, and I found happiness . . .”

She stretched up on her toes and captured his mouth. This felt so very right. Why should either of them resist this, when it was such a perfect escape?

Jack’s lips slid down, over her jaw, to her throat. He kissed the base where her pulse raced. She felt blazing hot, not cold and restrained. This was why she’d never married. It was more than secrets and promises and doubts.

No one else but Jack had ever made her feel
this
. And this was what she wanted.

Chapter Sixteen

With the same gentle touch he’d used on her, Lady M. traced the line of his throat.

A noble man would stop now. But Jack couldn’t. As she stroked his neck, he went rock hard, panting in response.

“I’ll never forget what you made me feel in the stone hut, Jack.” Her voice flowed over him like a siren’s song—rich, husky, and magical. “You made me want to know more.”

More. “You want to know about carnal pleasures?” His voice was raw and scratchy.

Desire lit up her eyes, making the golden flecks gleam in the blue depths. She drew her chin up, bold and strong and courageous, but so sweetly vulnerable it broke his heart. “I desire you and trust you. I don’t care about your past, Jack Travers. I want you.”

Those three words finished him.
I want you.

She couldn’t bear this alone—the danger of hunting a murderer, the strain of fearing it could be someone she loved. He’d vowed to be her protector. He could see she needed more. She needed someone to care about her. But what did he have to offer her?

She kissed him again. Jack felt as though he’d jumped into a fire.

He couldn’t make love to her. He couldn’t risk getting her with child. But he’d give her so much pleasure in other ways she’d never notice he held back.

He wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in his life. More than he’d wanted to build gaming hells that gave him power, money, security. More than he’d wanted to escape it all and find the peace Eversleigh offered.

He
could
control himself, but they could not stay in the stable. “Come, my lady. Let’s go for a ride.”

Her chest rose and fell with fierce breaths. “A ride? I’ve heard men—”

“No.” Damn, his throat was tight. Jack took down Penelope’s saddle. “I mean we’ll take the horses out. Your stable is too dangerous a place for us to kiss.”

Madeline felt a rush of panic. “No. It has to be now. Here. I can’t go riding. It will be dinner soon—” She’d been caught up in the moment with him, just as she’d wanted. But when he’d stopped kissing her, real life had intruded again.

Ignoring her protests, he saddled Penelope and Jupiter again and led them outside by their reins.

All her life, she had sought to be in charge. She felt safe that way. But she could not command Jack.

She hesitated, looking from Jack to the house and back again. If she went for a ride, she could delay her return to the house—

Suddenly, she needed escape more than anything. “Wait.” She rushed to catch up with him, with her heart feeling freer than it ever had. Jack’s strong hand rested on her mare’s withers while she mounted. Penelope playfully turned her head to rub along Jack’s arm.

He was irresistible.

The slanting sunlight of late afternoon cast swathes of gold over the fields, and the air had cooled a little. Penelope tossed her head. Madeline felt the same fey skittishness leap into her veins. The air was filled with the soft buzzing of insect life. The breeze felt silky across her skin, like sliding on a wrap on a winter’s day. Jack urged his gelding into a trot and headed away from the stable.

She was almost on fire with anticipation.

Madeline tapped Penelope to match Jack’s quick pace. They left from the rear of the stables and took a path screened by shrubs and trees. When they reached the edge of the fields, where she itched to let Penelope run free and glory in speed and excitement, he murmured softly, “Oberon’s men are watching.”

She swallowed hard. She’d forgotten—amazingly, for a few minutes she’d forgotten everything but seeking a place to be with Jack. “Where are we going?”

“The grove of apple trees near the stables. If we approach it from this direction, behind the trees, we’ll be safe.”

Even as they walked their mounts in the silence, it felt as though lightning jumped between her and Jack, crackling in the air. Then they were beneath the apple-laden branches, far enough away from the house that they could not be seen. They dismounted, and her chest was tight against her stays. She could barely draw a breath until Jack drew her into his arms again. And kissed her.

His mouth, hot and masterful, made her dizzy with need.

He lifted her skirts. The muslin of her gown slithered up Madeline’s legs. The warm air swirled over her bared legs.

His mouth skimmed down to her throat, smooth as a brush of satin. “I want you.”

Those words made her weak and wet and hot all at once. They made her moan in pleasured anticipation as Jack tugged her bodice down.

This was folly
. The warning came up, but she pushed it away at once. She yearned to grasp the wonderful sensation of feeling alive.

The sound of the seam at her shoulder tearing was almost lost to their heavy breathing. Her right breast was bared at the same instant Jack ran his glove-clad hand along the inside of her leg. Sensations came from so many places she could no longer think.