What A Rogue Wants (31 page)

He didn’t know, and he felt the fool
standing there harassing a woman who was only trying to keep her
family from starving and freezing to death.

Panicked determination swept across
Constance’s face as shoved her hands on her hips. “Can I go now? I
do believe my job’s finished.”

He nodded mutely. Madelaine’s possible
betrayal cut like a sharp knife across his heart. He stood,
listening to the departing sounds of the woman’s footsteps, and
then a burning anger with himself started deep in his belly and
boiled to the surface propelling him into motion. He swung around
and almost ran smack into Edward. “So help me God, if you say a
word I’ll lay you low with a single blow.”

Edward’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Have
it your way. But you’ll see soon that I’m right.”

“
I refuse to believe the
worst of her unless I have definite proof the worst is
true.”

“
Grey―”

“
No,” Grey interrupted.
He’d not spill his guts here and tell his brother how alone he’d
always felt because he’d chosen to believe his own father didn’t
love him. He’d not spin a sorry tale about how he’d learned the
truth about Father, and until Madelaine had come into his life he’d
thought he was unworthy of being loved, even though the tale was
true. All Edward need know was that Grey would not abandon
Madelaine unless he had absolute proof of her guilt. “I’ll stand
her protector until I’m certain of her guilt.”

Edward nodded. “Fine. Then let us
hurry and catch her yet and get to the bottom of everything. But
when we do catch her, brother, you need to be prepared. If I’m
right and you’re wrong, you will still need her to think you love
her if she’s to confide in you.”

Grey nodded. It wouldn’t
be hard to play the part of the besotted fool. He
was
besotted. He loved
her with an ache that stunned him. What would be hard would be to
trap her if and when he learned she was betraying the king. He
wasn’t sure how he would separate duty from love, but if she was
guilty he would have to.

Madelaine rapped softly on the door to
her father’s cell. “Father,” she whispered. Nerves were making her
jumpy. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure she didn’t see the
flickering light of a torch guiding the guard downstairs. She
doubted she had more than ten minutes before he returned to his
post with the blanket she’d demanded and realized he’d been duped.
And then what? Would he immediately check the dungeon?

She knocked a little harder as cold
sweat trickled down her back and dampened her underarms. “Father!”
She was more worried now the guard would return before she was back
than being overheard.

The sound of shuffling feet reached
her from under the door. She slumped against the wood. Inhaling a
deep breath, she forced herself to straighten and clutched tightly
around the dagger she’d stolen.

“
Madelaine?” Her father’s
face appeared at the small, barred window. His dark eyes locked on
her. I told you to make your way home, girl.”

“
Why did you betray the
king?” She blinked at the useless tears filling her eyes. “I’ll
gladly give my life to save you, Father, but I deserve to
know
why
I might
die.”

“
Silly, girl.” His voice
was low and soothing. “Come closer.”

She pressed her cheek to the bar where
he stretched his fingers between the iron railings. He traced
softly over her cheek before cupping her chin. “You’re not going to
die and neither am I, as long as you do what I say. Do you believe
me?”

“
I wouldn’t be here if I
didn’t.”

“
Good. Have you heard any
whispers at Court about the king?”

Despite knowing they were alone, she
scanned the shadows and dark corners. “I’ve heard he has dark
spells where he forgets himself, who he is. Some say he’s going
mad. Just gossip.”

Her father curled his fingers tighter
around her chin.

She jerked away. “You hurt me,” she
accused, rubbing at her skin.

“
I’m sorry.” He gripped
the bars. “It’s not gossip. The king
is
going mad.”

“
You’ve seen it?” She
couldn’t repress the shiver that raced across her skin.

“
Several times. The paper
the king accused me of stealing was one where not only did he write
that an angel came to him and told him he needed to execute his
cabinet because they’re trying to overthrow him, but he also wrote
things he planned for the army to do against Napoleon. If that
paper ever fell into the wrong hands it could be England’s
downfall. England’s enemies are constantly sending people into our
midst to steal our secrets. The king is sick. He’s a danger to
England. I stole his paper when he refused to burn it. I knew then
someone had to stop him, and none of the other fools who surround
him are willing to risk his wrath.”

“
You risk your
life.”

“
Yes, I do. For England, I
risk it all.”

Reluctant relief filled her. He’d done
what he had because he wanted to protect England. He wanted only to
help the king.

“
Maddie, with the king’s
madness he wrote about angels and executions; that paper is the
proof the prince needs to become regent. Once the king is proven a
danger to England, they’ll have to let the prince rule. Get the
paper and take it to the prince. I would have done it right away,
but the prince was abroad. He’ll recognize the king’s writing and
know that his father cannot be trusted with England’s secrets. The
prince should be back from his travels any day. Give it to him.
Only to him. Do you understand?”

She frowned. “I do, but is he so mad
then? Are you and the prince not trying to put him off his
throne?”

Her father rattled the bar. “To
protect him. To protect England. Will you help me?”

Her heartbeat strummed in her ears.
“Why did you say earlier to trust no one? Surely―”

The pounding of footsteps
cut off her question. She jerked toward the stairs. Light flooded
the entrance to the small room.
Too
late.
It was too late to flee. She scanned
the small room. On shaking legs, she raced over to the dark corner
and ran her hands over the cold stone. There was no space wide
enough to wedge herself in. Hysteria made her heart thump painfully
and her skin tingle as if needles stuck her at once all
over.

Light illuminated the shadowy room and
obscured the face of the man holding the torch. Digging her nails
into the stone and pressing herself as flat as she could, she held
her breath. Maybe the guard wouldn’t notice her in the corner.
She’d been lucky not to stutter earlier when lying. She’d never
been lucky twice. Her father babbled words at the man, but fear
made it impossible for Madelaine to concentrate.

For one breathless second, hope filled
her. The guard had been easy to dupe into thinking she was a whore
who offered herself to him for coin. Maybe her father could get him
to leave. The torch lowered, and her hope disappeared. Grey’s older
brother Lord Ashford stared at her with cold eyes. His lips thinned
as he advanced toward her. Her heart hammered to a deafening roar
and without consideration, she raised her dagger and flung it at
him.

He jerked to the left, but not fast
enough. Her dagger stuck in his left shoulder. With a roar, he bent
his head to rip out the dagger. She sprang for the stairs. He
caught her on the fifth step, jerked her hard against his chest and
locked his arm around her waist. He hefted her off the ground. She
flailed, her feet dangling in front of her.

Above her, the pounding of frantic
footsteps on stone rushed toward them. She refused to give up.
Rearing her head back, she connected with Lord Ashford’s nose. A
sickening crunch followed. He dropped her and she scrambled on the
slimy steps.

Could she reach the next level before
Lord Ashford caught her? She had to find a way out. The light came
toward her quicker than her trembling legs would go. Five seconds
until she was captured maybe.

The light robbed her of the ability to
see. Blinded, she reached forward, when hands grasped her. Terror
seized her voice.

“
I’ve got you,” Grey
whispered as he flung her over his broad shoulder. “Where do you
need to go? How can I help?”

“
My home,” she mumbled,
wilting against him, too exhausted to explain and too desperate to
refuse.

GREY HELD MADELAINE TIGHTLY AGAINST
him as he drove them deep into the woods. Doubt tore through him,
making him numb. Was she traitor or victim? A picture of her
frantic face illuminated by the eerie glow of the torches in the
tower filled his head. She was running, that much was for certain.
But from what? Was she running to save her own life because she was
guilty of treason or was she running because she was innocent and
her father had told her to go? Grey refused to believe she was
guilty. Not yet. Running didn’t prove culpability.

“
Stop at once,” she
demanded, the back of her head coming away from its resting
position on his chest and her bottom scooting forward in the saddle
to put a slight distance between their bodies.

He pulled up on Cypress’s reins until
the horse came to a panting halt. Grey prayed his brother was not
right. He jumped down then helped Madelaine from the saddle. One
look at her, with her hair tumbling invitingly over her shoulders
and across her ample bosom, stirred his groin. God, he was warped
for his lust to awaken at a time like this. But her dress was
revealing and inviting and―Why the hell was she dressed like that?
Jealously and anger stirred.

“
Do you care to explain
the dress?” He wrapped his hands around her waist while trying to
tear his eyes from her creamy breasts.

Her slow slide down the length of his
body did nothing to dampen his raging desire. Her feet hit the
ground and she stepped away from him, her rounded eyes meeting his.
“After rescuing me from trying to escape your brother do you really
want me to explain my attire? Surely there are other more pressing
questions on your mind.”

There were a thousand more relevant
questions, but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers or if he got
answers would they be honest? “Were you trying to free your
father?”

She jerked her head. “As if I
could.”

“
That’s not an
answer.”

“
No, I was not trying to
free him.” Her shoulders slumped, and he fought the urge to fold
her into his arms. She had gone there for a reason. He had to know
why. “Why were you there?”

“
Why do you think?” she
asked faintly.

Ah. Here was the tricky part. He knew
what he wanted to believe, but was he fooling himself? Was Edward
right? Would he not be able to read the truth in her eyes because
he didn’t want to see the truth? “I think you were desperate to see
your father one last time.” Her eyes widened at his statement. “Am
I right?”

“
Yes.” Her voice trembled.
“I had to say goodbye.” She sniffed and wiped at her face. “He’s
all I have in this world, Grey. I―I cannot stay to see him hanged.
I just want to go home. I don’t want to be here when he’s
killed.”

Grey enfolded her into his arms,
relief pouring through him. He didn’t give a damn what Edward
thought, Madelaine was innocent. She needed him.

He stroked a hand through her hair,
aware of a stirring of his blood and a pounding of his pulse. He
was helpless to stop his reaction to her. The best he could do was
try to control himself. “I’ll take you home. And I’ll send a note
to my brother explaining everything, so he won’t pursue punishing
you.”

She pulled away. “No. Don’t do that.
You shouldn’t involve yourself in my troubles or place me between
you and your brother.”

“
Nonsense.” He pulled her
to him. When he saw her mouth part as if to protest, he kissed her.
He meant only to silence her while he thought how to convince her
to allow him to take her home. He’d never let her out of his sight
now. Not only was he worried for her safety, but it was imperative
to prove her innocence to Edward. When his mouth met hers, and her
warm lips parted, he tasted her sweetness and lost control. He
kissed her hungrily, their tongues swirling and touching then
retreating and coming together once again.