Falling In Love Again (Heroic Rogues Series) (32 page)

As she searched for the Donnelley’s old estate, she almost missed it. No lights lit the abandoned house, except for a glimmer out back in the stables. She pulled her horse to a stop and slid down. Trying to be as quiet as she could, she tied her mare to a tree and crept closer to the stables. From within, men’s voices rumbled low, and her curiosity grew. Perhaps she’d come to the wrong house.

Tiptoeing around the side of the structure, she found a window. Slowly, she peeked inside. The light from a small lantern flickered across ten men standing near the stalls. Her husband stood out; a head taller than the others. No woman attended this gathering.

Isabelle rubbed her forehead. This couldn’t be right. She’d heard her husband talk about visiting Mrs. Westland. So where was the young widow so desperate to sink her claws into Marcus?

The topic the men discussed was in hushed tones, and she couldn’t hear a thing. Being quiet, she sneaked around the structure to the window closer to her husband. A small crack in the glass helped her to hear what they talked about. So far Marcus remained quiet as the other men voiced their opinions.

“King George loathes us, I tell you. And the retched man is constantly devising ways of torturing hard-working men like ourselves.” A portly gentleman’s face reddened as he clenched his fists by his side. “Newly appointed Charles Townshend, Chancellor of the Exchequer, doesn’t care about our needs. He’s too busy kissing the King’s silk bottom to think about how the taxes are affecting the colonists.”

The other men agreed with loud grumbles and nods.

“At least we can be happy the man isn’t in our midst, watching every move we make.”

“Aye,” another man said. “It’s bad in Philadelphia as well. My brother lives there, and they cannot move without one of the King’s soldiers watching them.”

A small, reed-thin man stepped closer and cleared his throat. “We need to find more patriots who want to fight for our cause. The little group we have now cannot keep the soldiers away.” He shrugged. “Even though we’ll receive the shipment of guns soon, if we don’t have more men, we’re worthless.”

Isabelle gasped and jumped back, stumbling over a broken tree branch on her way. She caught herself before hitting the ground, but twisted her ankle. The throb in her foot wasn’t anything like the throb in her forehead. She’d heard enough already. These men were going to raise an army against the King’s soldiers.

Impossible!
She couldn’t have heard correctly, but the fierce beating in her skull let her know she had.

Her heartbeat pounded, shaking her chest considerably as she breathed slowly. How many men would they have to gather before this happens? Her husband couldn’t possibly be involved. Why, he’s a titled gentleman. Yet, these men here tonight seemed to trust Lord Lockwood or else they wouldn’t have allowed him to come to their meeting.

She sucked in a quick breath.
Marcus is a traitor.
Men were hanged for being a traitor. If she didn’t talk him out of this nonsense, he’d be next. Although he kept a secret mistress, Isabelle didn’t wish him dead.

As she regained her composure and thought about what the men had said just now, everything made sense. She had observed people in New York and could see why they were upset about the taxes. Did King George know what hardships these people suffered across the sea because of his insane taxation? Not only that, they couldn’t live their religion the way they wanted and were persecuted if they protested. Even though she loved her mother country, she disagreed with how the King handled things over here.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the window, hoping to hear more. Behind her, a twig snapped and leaves crunched mere seconds before hands clamped down hard on each shoulder. Roughly, her attacker jerked her around.

“Who are you and why are you spying?” he snapped.

Through the night’s haze, she recognized the outline of the man’s face and the deep timbre of his voice. She wanted to sigh in relief that she’d been caught by Marcus, yet at the same time she didn’t want him to know why she was here.

His gaze narrowed on her before reaching up and knocking the hat from her head. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in waves. He released her as if she was hot coals.

“Isabelle?”

Sheepishly, she shrugged. “Yes, it is I.”

“But… how?” He mumbled a curse and bunched his hands into fists. “What in the blazes are you doing here?”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I heard something out by the window. I thought it was an animal. Never suspected it would be my wife.” He coked his head. “So, what are you doing here?”

She couldn’t very well hide the truth from him now. “Following you, my dear husband.”

“Whatever for?”

“To see what mischief you were involved with.”

He shook his head. “I beg of you to make sense. You are confusing me.”

She huffed and folded her arms. “I thought you were secretly meeting your mistress.”

From within the stable, the men’s voices grew louder. He cursed and grabbed her arm, pulling Isabelle away from the structure.

“Keep quiet, and maybe you won’t be discovered.”

“But, why—”

His hand covered her mouth as he pulled her against his body. “For once, do as I say.”

She wanted to slap his face, stomp on his foot, or anything to unleash her temper.
For once?
When had she ever disobeyed her husband? Instead of going with her first instinct, she remained quite as he pulled them farther into the wooded grove behind the stables. Each time she put pressure on her twisted ankle, it throbbed a little harder. Still, she kept beside him and didn’t make a noise.

Because of the fog, she couldn’t see the men from the meeting, but their voices grew dim and were accompanied by the clip-clop of horses’ hooves. Isabelle breathed a little easier, and Marcus’ body relaxed, too.

Up this close, she could see he’d donned his white wig and flashy clothes for tonight’s occasion. She had no idea why his attire bothered her. Maybe it was because she’d seen him in different clothes—clothes that made him more rugged and handsome. His scent of spice and leather enveloped her, making her want to close her eyes and breathe deeply as she snuggled closer. However, before she could follow her instincts, he dropped his hands and pulled away. Reality came back as loneliness consumed her chest. She would confront his secret affair and tell him she never wanted to be intimate with him again.

“Now Isabelle,” he said slowly, folding his arms across his chest, “would you kindly explain to me why you followed me?”

She nodded. “As I’d mentioned, I followed you to catch you and your mistress together.”

He cocked his head and arched his eyebrow. “My mistress? And who might that be?”

“Oh, for the love of God.” She growled. “I wish you’d stop playing these mindless games with me. I’m not a fool, Marcus, neither am I blind. I saw you and Mrs. Westland together earlier today by the docks. Not only that, I heard you and your valet talking in your study. I heard you mention her name and about meeting her tonight.”

His eyes widened, but guilt wasn’t the expression flitting across his face. Panic settled in her chest. Had she heard wrong when she’d eavesdropped?

Marcus scrubbed his chin as a smile stretched his lips. “Did you hear me actually call Mrs. Westland my mistress? Did you actually hear I was to meet her here? Tonight?”

Dread washed through her as doubt filled her. She
had
been wrong. His irritated expression told her she’d been
very
wrong. “Uh, no, not exactly. But when I saw you two in town, the woman touched you improperly. What was I to think, dear husband, especially since she had come to see me right before our wedding? She practically issued me a challenge that night. Then I see her with you. In public, no less.”

He chuckled and stepped forward. His hands snaked around her waist and pulled her against him. Still upset, her first reaction was to squirm and place her hands on his chest to keep from getting any closer. Instead, once her hands met his hard muscles, her body had a mind of its own. Without wanting to, she surrendered and melted against him.

“Thank you for being jealous,” he whispered.

She gasped, appalled by his statement. Before she could voice her opinion, he brought his mouth down and covered hers. Heat consumed her quickly, just as it had always done while being held by this incredible handsome man. His kiss entranced her. Again.

In surrender, she linked her arms around his neck and relaxed, meeting his demanding kiss with urgency. His hands wandered over her back, pulling her closer. She sighed heavily. Than he broke the kiss, and rested his cheek against hers. Ragged breaths fanned her ear.

“Oh, my darling wife,” he whispered. “I swear to you there’s no other woman in my life.” He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. Passion filled their depths. “Why would I seek other company when my wife pleases me beyond reason?”

“But, I saw… I heard…”

He shook his head. “And you misunderstood.” He stroked her cheek before his fingers moved down the column of her throat. “Yes, Mrs. Westland accosted me in public by the docks, but I didn’t encourage it. The reason you overheard my valet and I talking about her in my study was because I wanted my servant to take care of the woman tonight.” He brushed his lips across hers briefly. “I don’t need Mrs. Westland. Not when I have such a loving wife.”

Using both hands, he cupped her face and kissed her again. Longer this time. His gentle lips moved over hers with such passion, it brought tears to her eyes. Could what he say be true? Oh, how she prayed it was. She’d had her heart broken enough times already.

He broke the kiss again and leaned his forehead against hers. “You do, don’t you?”

“
Wh
—what?”

“You do love me. Right?”

Longing touched his voice, making her heart leap. Her chest burst with the emotion she didn’t want to admit had been building inside her for a few days. How could she love her husband so soon after Hawk? Yet, she did. Looking into his searching eyes, she knew she had fallen fast for this man.

Slowly, she nodded as her eyes filled with tears. “I do, Marcus. I love you—”

He released a groan and crushed his mouth over hers, silencing her words. She clung to him, answering his urgent kiss.

“Oh, Isabelle. My Isabelle,” he muttered in between pecks. “I wanted you to love me, but was afraid you wouldn’t.” His lips trailed across her cheek to her ear before he nibbled on her lobe.

Tingles shot through her. “Marcus, I couldn’t stop myself. You’re so kind—so wonderful.”

A small laugh escaped his mouth as he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck. “I wanted to tell you this morning. I wanted to confess my love for you, but I held back, not knowing if you loved me.”

Happiness consumed her very being, and she wanted to share everything she had with this man. Now. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the place to show such an intimate form of expression.

“Marcus? Take me home.”

He growled and lifted her in his arms, meeting her lips with his. She hooked her arms around his neck.

He carried her to his horse and sat her on before mounting behind her. As they passed her mare, he grabbed the reins and pulled the animal along.

She suddenly remembered the conversation she’d overheard during tonight’s meeting, and with it came panic. No matter how she looked at it, Marcus was a traitor. If caught, he would be arrested and punished. Worry wrenched through her whole body, making her tremble.

“Marcus?”

“Yes, my love.”

She smiled, loving the way he said that. “Will you please tell me about your meeting tonight? Are you, and the other men, traitors?”

He stilled. “I suppose you could say we are traitors. We don’t believe in the taxes King George is putting on us, and if having our own opinions make us traitors, then so be it.”

“But Marcus,” she said looking over her shoulder at him, “King George hangs traitors. If you continue with this group of patriots, you might get caught.”

“Yes, I might, but what if I don’t? What if I—or the others—make a difference? What if we could stop all this insane taxation? What if we could become free men and away from Britain’s hold?”

“By threatening to rise against our mother country while holding rifles with intention to kill?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

He gathered her closer and kissed her cheek. “Isabelle, I know what I’m doing. I also believe in what these men are fighting for. I don’t know what will come of it. Maybe nothing. All I know is I cannot pretend the people over here in the colonies are not suffering because of the King’s harsh taxes.”

She laid her head against his. “Marcus, I don’t think I can watch you die. Now that I found love again, I cannot have it taken away.”

He grinned. “I won’t take it away. I swear to you I’ll make you happy until we are old and gray.”

She smiled. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

He chuckled. “As long as you hold me, we shall make it. You’ll see.”

* * * *

Isabelle awoke with a smile as love bloomed in her chest. Making love to Marcus last night had been different. More meaningful. She couldn’t count how many times she murmured loving words to him, and how often he repeated them.