Naughty in Nottinghamshire 02 - The Rogue Returns (26 page)

She lifted her gaze to the sky, streaked in orange and pink. The world around her was…resplendent. And for seemingly no purpose. It just
was
.

Beauty for the sake of beauty.

What a revelation.

To her, beauty had always been an effort, a talent. Refinement was a skill learned by artists and taught to women by their mothers and dressmakers. It was something to be coveted, and it certainly wasn’t without cost and sacrifice.

But here, looking out at the waving grasses, feeling the birdsong falling over her like a blessing, there was no effort. No cost. The mist did not
try
. The grasses did not
push
. The sky did not
learn
.

A laugh, small and sharp, burst out of her.

Perhaps it was the deeper way of things, when left to their own pure state, to be beautiful. Perhaps grace was within
everything, everything, everything.

Perhaps the world was always this free, if she only had eyes to see it.

She glanced at Roane, her heart full. She wanted to see
him
in a new light. She would not take what he had told her about his past and jump to conclusions. Just because he’d been a highwayman did not mean he was prone to trouble, like her brothers. There was a depth and a pain within him that she could not overlook. He was more, much more, than a mere charming rogue. She would
let
him be free, let him prove himself.

Ahead of her, he squinted at something in the distance and touched the pistol secured at his side. Helen caught her breath and rode up closer to him. This was no time to be lost in daydreams and whims of fancy.

“Did you see something?” she murmured.

“Just a tree.” Roane glanced at her, a quick snap of his eyes and tilt of his lips, then returned his attention to the morning. He was a hawk, his every sense keen.

He was golden and strong and beautiful as the morning around them. He
belonged
here, amongst the majestic wild things.

She belonged in London.

Promise me you won’t leave without saying goodbye.

Suddenly, the morning took on a bittersweet tinge.

No part of her wanted to say goodbye to Roane. But, their journey was nearing its end, and she would leave perhaps as soon as tomorrow. Their parting was inevitable. They were from different worlds, had different futures ahead of them. He wanted to build a life for himself in the hills, to breed and train horses and ride carefree across the sunlit meadows. And, while she had a newfound appreciate for the countryside, her home was in London. She loved fashion, and theater, and museums. She wouldn’t last more than a few months on a quiet horse farm. And who would take care of Harry?

It was better they parted ways now, while there were only good feelings between them.

“Have you considered that James might not have buried the gold after all?” Roane cut into her thoughts with yet more worries. “It wouldn’t be out of his character to have spent the money. As you said, he wasn’t of the best mind.”

Helen frowned, feeling suddenly cold and empty inside. “Yes, of course I have considered the possibility. But why would he have left the map?”

Roane shrugged, his eyes serious beneath unusually heavy brows. “Who can answer for anything James chose to do?”

If they didn’t find the gold, could she convince Roane to ride to London with her? “What will you do, if we find this Goredale Scar and the map ends with nothing else? Can you borrow funds from your sister? She is a countess now.”

“No.” Roane shook his head, hard. “I am not…her husband sent me to Australia. I am not asking them for anything.”

“Then, if we don’t find the gold, you have…”

“Nothing but my wits.” He smiled at her over his shoulder, but the corners of his eyes did not crinkle, his dimple did not appear. “I’ve relied on them so far. And what of you?”

“My only true option would be to marry someone ridiculously wealthy.” She shrugged, as if that weren’t her worst nightmare. To tie herself to a man for life, to forfeit her freedom to a man she did not love, perhaps did not respect, simply for financial gain…Her soul shuddered at the thought. She would die inside, day by day.

Roane frowned at her. He was silent, his face a hard mask. She could not help but compare him to the rogue he’d been that first day they’d met, unwilling to take anything seriously.

The journey had changed both of them, it seemed.

“We’ll find the gold,” he insisted.

“I hope so.”

“I don’t like that look on your face, buttercup. We’ll find the gold, I promise. You’ll be returned to London before you know it, and back to your usual comforts and entertainments.”

Could she return to London, to her old life, as if none of this had ever happened? As if she’d not been the subject of cutting gossip and wandering, lecherous hands. As if she’d not learned to wear breeches. And fish.

And kiss.

And…feel.

She would return to her life without Roane. She would never see him again.

They continued on in silence. The morning mist burned off, but the sun was hidden behind a grey canopy of clouds as they crossed miles of open fields. Hills rolled away in the distance, the tops dotted with white rocks against green grass. They came to a murmuring stream and rode along beside it for a time.

“We are close, are we not?” Helen broke the silence, trying to recall the map.

“We are close. Less than a mile.”

Helen urged her mount on faster. She would focus on the gold. They would find it today, they
must
. And she would be
happy
.

The stream wended its way into a steep, narrow valley. They turned a hard corner and slowed to a stop. A huge limestone ravine yawned opened before them, the sharp walls towering higher than a London cathedral. The jagged cliffs were beautiful, if unforgiving, and seemed to blot out the sun.

Gordale Scar was enormous.

What lace could cover something this elemental and massive?

Helen twisted in her saddle to see Roane’s expression, but he had stopped some ten feet behind her, studying a wooden sign staked into the earth. Two arrows pointed in opposite directions.

“James was many things, humorous being one of them.” He looked at her, a wry smile on his lips. “We go downstream, to Janet’s Foss.”

“How can you be so certain?” She rode back to his side and studied the wooden sign for some clue. “Jeanette. Janet.”

“Exactly.” Roane urged Zeus down the narrow lane toward Janet’s Foss.

“Did this
Jeanette
prefer lace?” Helen asked behind him.

“Pardon?”

“In James’s riddle.

Where there is a scar, there is a cover.

A lace, a veil, sometimes a lover
.”

“Er—”

“It couldn’t be as simple as lace on her sleeves. James would never notice that.”

“I cannot recall—”

“Lace on her corset? Her garters, perhaps?” My, she was feeling snippy all of a sudden.

Roane coughed. “Helen—”

“A lace peignoir with nothing beneath? Now that sounds French.”

He turned in his saddle and pinned her with a wry smile. “My, my, you do sound
jealous
, Helen.”

She avoided his gaze. “Of course I’m not jealous. I’m merely a touch irritated by this woman who has caused me such trouble.”

Helen stared off into the green forest. Did Roane ever think of Jeanette? Had he drawn the Frenchwoman as well? Her heart flipped uncomfortably.

Promise me you won’t leave without saying goodbye.

Had Roane made that plea to Jeanette as well? Did it break the other woman’s heart, as it did her own?

How long would he wait, to kiss someone else?

Roane turned forward, ducking just in time to avoid a low hanging branch. A rumble filled the air and grew louder as they approached.

A waterfall.

The trees opened to reveal a woodland pool. Water cascaded down a waterfall in frothy lines that almost resembled—

“Lace,” she exclaimed.

Helen did not want to consider the twist in her heart as she thought of this Jeanette woman who did or did not prefer lace. But it did seem to her
this
was the next clue.

“I see a cave.” Roane dismounted.

Helen swallowed a groan. She did not want to go into another cave. Not at all.

He helped her down from Starlight, but his hands did not linger. “You truly do not like caves?”

“Truly.” She turned in a slow circle, scanning the area. The waterfall poured into a small pond. Bordering that was a sandy beach, sharp limestone walls, and thick green plants covering everything.

It was a magical land. Someplace faeries would frolic.

Beside her, Roane leaned against a tree and tugged off his boots.

“Whatever are you doing?” Helen asked, breathless as his second boot was tossed aside. “Are you
disrobing
?”

He chuckled, his excitement at finding the gold obviously overriding his good sense. “You are very cute in your haughty outrage, princess. Your nose puckers up just so.” He leaned forward and touched the tip of her nose with his finger.

She looked down at his bare toes. “Do you think the gold is in the pond?”

“No.” He pulled off his shirt and her mouth went dry. No living man had a right to be so beautiful. It quite stole one’s ability to think.

Thankfully, he left his breeches on. He charged into the water until it reached his waist, then dove in. When he surfaced, his blond curls were slicked back, highlighting the bones of his face.

“I needed that,” he said. “I’ve been on a horse too many days with no bath. I did not sleep last night, and I cannot think.”

“This is hardly a proper bath.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized how ridiculous they sounded.

“Come in,” he called.

She shook her head. “Any manner of creatures lurk in that pond.”

“It feels good,” he taunted.

“I am not going in that water, Roane. I’ll just look for clues why you cavort, shall I?”

He snorted and scrubbed his hair. Blond curls and water droplets flung every which way. Helen quickly turned her back and considered the area around her.

Where would her brother bury something in this dell? She ignored the splashing behind her, though her mind conjured wicked images of Roane, wet and shirtless.

She stomped around the vegetation lining the pond. The gold could be anywhere. They needed another clue.

Roane climbed out of pond on the opposite bank, rivulets of water running down his bare chest.

“Any ideas?” he called.

“None,” she barked, irrationally irritated.

He flashed her a look, then began his own detailed search around the cave’s mouth.

They had shed blood, sweat, and tears to get here. Had traveled over a hundred miles, through great adversity, to this hard won spot. And, now that they were here, Helen found she could not focus on the search.

It was him.

He was distracting her with his tanned skin and dripping wet curls. She would rather watch him search than search herself. But what good would any of it do? In the end, no matter what lived between them, he would try not to miss her.

The situation was utterly preposterous. The exact reason she did not want any romantic entanglements in her life. All the drama was entirely unnecessary.

“I’m going in the cave,” he called.

Just wonderful. Another dark cave full of snakes and God knew what else.

“Grab a candle and flint from my pack, will you?” he said from the opposite bank. “And my shirt.”

Helen did as he asked, then stood at the edge of the water. “Here,” she held the items up.

Roane looked at her over his shoulder. “Bring them to me, if you please.” He punctuated his request with a grin.

With a huff, she kicked up a cloud of dirt and called Roane names in her mind. He just watched, smiling. Gritting her teeth, she sat on the small sandy beach and pulled off her boots and new bonnet, then waded across the shallowest spot she could find. The water still reached her knees.

“Here.” She thrust the candle at him.

“Are you nervous about the gold?” he asked.

“Hmm. Something like that.” She was being ridiculous, she knew. She should be excited. She felt all…pent up. And frustrated. And like she needed something, but she didn’t know what.

The gold, she told herself. She needed the gold.

But it was more than that. It was something deeper. In her bones. In her blood. A wanting for the world to change, somehow. For the earth to turn differently. Her breath to be…

God, it was him. It was Roane.

She wanted her breath to be tinged with hints of him.

She wanted to her body to be touched by him.

She wanted her world, her life, to be threaded with his.

This was terrible. A mess. She could fall in love with him, if she wasn’t careful.

“I have a good feeling about this.” Roane grinned, totally ignorant of the battle going on within her. “You ready?”

“Ready.” But she wasn’t. She wasn’t ready to deal with the weight of this wanting.

It was only supposed to have been about finding the gold and fighting off danger together. None of this should have happened.

Roane pulled on his shirt and climbed the embankment to the small cave. He stopped just outside the entrance and lit his candle.

Excitement shimmered in the air around him like sunshine on the pond. He had been waiting years for this moment, she knew. His future relied on what they found inside.

And she wanted it for him, as much as she wanted it for herself, for her family, and the earldom. She wanted Roane to have his dreams.

He slipped into the cave first, and she was sure to be close behind. He held the candle up. The small ring of light barely touched the deep darkness.

“Do you see it?” She was ready to go back out into the sunlight.

“He would put it somewhere out of sight.”

Wonderful.

Roane took her hand in his. Big and warm, it made her feel better.

The wanting in the pit of her stomach stood up and cheered.
He is touching me!