Escape with A Rogue (40 page)

“No. No! Are you? You weren’t shot?”

“The ball flew over my shoulder. Didn’t even touch me.” He kissed the top of her head.

Dimly, she remembered Livingston was there, and she turned and found him crouched over Catherine’s body.

“I—I saw the knife,” she whispered to Jack. “I knew you planned to throw it.”

“I hoped to disable her and draw her fire. Wounded, she wouldn’t have been to hit me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “But she might have done. It was a terrible gamble! You saved my life. If it weren’t for you, Catherine would have shot me. I could feel how frightened she was becoming. I was afraid she was going to pull the trigger because she was trembling so much . . .”

Jack brushed another kiss to her forehead. “We’ll find your mother now.”

She nodded. “Yes, we must hurry.”

Livingston was on his feet, a second weapon in his hand. “Travers, you are under arrest.”

Madeline drew herself up, despite trembling legs. “He is a hero and innocent of the crimes that sent him to prison. He is also
wounded
.”

“I’m all right.” Jack’s arm slid around her shoulders. He glared at Livingston and explained that Madeline’s mother was somewhere in the maze, tied up and frightened.

Livingston nodded. “We’ll find her.”

Jack headed into the maze, with her at his side, never faltering for a moment. Livingston followed with his pistol. She could hear soft sobs now, though she still could not judge where they were coming from. Jack led her around a corner—

Her mother lay on the ground, tied at the ankles and wrists. She rushed to Mama and dropped to her knees. Jack joined her on her mother’s opposite side, and he tore at the knots in the ropes. All the while, Livingston stood guard.

Jack ripped the knots apart while Madeline held her mother close and stroked her. She brushed back Mama’s wet hair, wiped the rain from her face. Her mother was soaked through and shaking. “W—what happened?” she croaked. “Madeline, is that you?”

She forced words through her tight throat. “It’s me, Mama. I’m with you now and you are safe. We’re both safe, thanks to Jack.” She pressed her cheek to her mother’s head. “It was Catherine, Mama. She killed Sarah and Grace Highchurch. Now Catherine is dead, and we’ll take you to the house and dry you off.”

Jack scooped her mother into his arms, just as he had done to her. “Come, Madeline. Can you make it to the house?”

 Livingston stepped forward. “Travers, you are an escaped convict—”

“These women need help. You can help me bring them both safely to the house.”

“Jack’s wounds need to be tended.” Madeline drew on every inch of hauteur she had in her. “After that, I will ensure Jack stands before a judge once more. Catherine admitted in front of you that she was the murderer, and you saw Jack act as a hero. Jack should be acquitted.”

Livingston gaped at her. “Acquitted? But that’s impossible—”

“An innocent man should be acquitted,” she cried. “Do not think you can whisk him away from here. Unless you plan to murder my mother and me.”

“Of course not, my lady. We’ll return to your house and bring in Mr. Oberon.”

Hope surged, and Madeline put her hand on Jack’s arm, staying at his side as they walked out of the maze. She heard Jack’s murmur as they stepped out onto the lawns and he looked up to the turbulent heavens. “Thank you for ensuring I wasn’t too late.”

Chapter Twenty-three

“He saved my
life
!” Madeline glared at her father and Philip, but both men stared back at her, unmoved and resolute in the morning sunlight. She paced on the rug in Father’s study. “Jack Travers saved Mama’s life as well, for Catherine would have killed me and then Mama. Why won’t you let me see him?”

Father—and Captain Livingston—had allowed her to summon a physician from the village. The doctor had cleaned and stitched both Jack’s wounds. She’d worried about the one on his shoulder, though the doctor claimed he had cleaned it thoroughly. She had insisted Jack be given a bedroom for the night so he could rest. Four footmen and the two of the Crown’s men had been stationed to watch the room.

Even with the guards, Madeline did not doubt Jack would have been able to escape a bedchamber at Eversleigh if he had wanted to. He had been found in his bed in the morning because he had chosen to stay. That could only be because he feared for her safety at the Crown agents’ hands.

Father gave a ragged sigh. “It is for your own protection.”

Philip stalked over to the window, where he could see the front drive—and Oberon’s arrival. “Travers has seduced you. Your judgment is impaired.”

“I believe in him. Just as I believed in
you
,” she threw back at Philip. “Jack is an innocent man. He’s certainly proved he is a noble man.”

“You could try to help him escape again,” Philip protested.

“Again?” Father stood behind his desk, and he now leaned heavily on it.

Philip frowned. “Madeline returned to this house, escorted by agents of the Crown, and Travers had arrived here just one day before.” He turned to her. “
Did
you help Jack Travers escape from Dartmoor?”

“Dear God.” Her father sank onto his chair. “I thought the Crown’s agents had rescued you from the man.”

Did she admit it or not? She took a deep breath—she was willing to trust her family would not turn her in. “Yes, I did help Jack escape.”

Father looked dangerously pale. “Madeline, do you not see the danger of what you have done? What if they were to transport you? You may not have been my child, but at least you have always behaved like the perfect lady. You must forget about Jack Travers. He did save your life, and Leonora’s life, and of course I am grateful to him for that noble act, but he must be punished for his past crimes. It is only just.”

“It
isn’t
just. He did nothing more than run gaming hells.”
And try to protect his mother.
“In London, magistrates turn a blind eye to such things.” They would not turn a blind eye to the murder of a peer, but they did not know Jack had done it. “You have told me that in the past, Philip. That was how you managed to avoid scandal and arrest—”

 She stopped. She did not want to make Father ill.

Philip glared at her.

“Think of the scandal if it comes out that you are in love with a criminal, Madeline. Think of the black name it will give the family.”

“I have just risked my life to free our family from scandal and suspicion, so you have no right to lecture to me, Philip.” She turned to her father. “I want to see Jack before he is taken away. Let me have that. Even if I want to help Jack escape and run off with him, it is my own choice. You can all wash your hands of me.” She faced Philip. “You told me I was not one of you because I don’t have a drop of Ashby blood.” Then, on a deep breath, she turned to her father. “You told me that you see Mama’s betrayal when you look at me. You can blame anything I’ve done—that I might do—on the fact that I’m not one of you.”

She had always lived with the fear of being cast out. Jack, with his acceptance of her, with his desire to protect her—which proved she had worth—had given her the courage to confront it.

“Father, it is better to move on from the past,” she said softly. “I don’t expect you to open your heart to me, but please forgive Mama for her transgression. When she is feeling stronger, I hope to help her put her sad and angry memories away, and encourage her to remember good ones.”

Was that even possible? Madeline was not certain, but she saw that clinging to sorrow, or anger, or guilt was a terrible thing. She no longer wanted to let the past rob her of a future. “You have been a good man to allow me to stay in your home. I wish so much to see you be a happy man.”

Her father’s expression of dismay faded. To her surprise, he reached to her and clasped her hand. “You can see Travers, but I beg you not to behave foolishly. You are right—I
was
a selfish man who was caught up in the past. I have been a proud man and it has not brought me happiness. I said terrible things to you the other night, and I am sorry. You belong here. I hope you can forgive me. I almost lost you and it has made me see how much I care about you, Madeline.”

“Father, you cannot let her see him,” Philip argued.

“How do you propose that I stop her? She is stronger than I am. When she is determined, she is stronger than any of us.” Her father’s eyes brightened with admiration, even as he ruefully shook his head.

Impetuously, Madeline hugged him. By being true to herself, and to her heart, she’d convinced him to put the past to rest. She had not thought her father would ever open his heart to her. Yet he had. Perhaps it was proof that anything was possible—including rescuing Jack.

* * *

Walking away from Maddy would be the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.

She stepped into the drawing room where he was being held captive, awaiting Oberon, and Jack’s heart almost stopped. She wore a cream-white dress that swept over her curves. Her golden hair had been hastily rolled and pinned, as if she’d been in a hurry to get to his side.

She closed the door behind her, after giving a word of warning to the guards. They were not to interrupt until she opened the door, even if Oberon arrived.

Jack had to grin. She spoke with crisp authority, determined to take charge. He could not imagine any other woman walking into Dartmoor War Prison or commanding agents of the Crown.

Then her pink lips parted, a sign she was about to launch into a speech.

“I can guess what you’ve come to say, love,” he said first. He rested his hip against the back of a wing chair. “You want me to give the traitors’ names to Oberon to try to save myself.”

She frowned—he’d stolen her thunder by leaping straight to the point. She walked up to him, her skirts swaying around her long legs. She put her hands on his hips. “Yes, that is what I want you to do. You kept them secret before to buy yourself time. Now, we must bargain for your life.”

We.
Her touch sent longing rushing through him.
I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
That was what he wanted to say. Ironically, he might very well be doing that—he likely wasn’t going to have that long to live.

At his silence, she frowned. “You aren’t going to, are you? One of those men was your best friend. I know you are loyal and honorable, Jack, but you cannot sacrifice yourself. Not even for a friend.
Please
.”

“I can’t give them to Oberon, angel. But it isn’t because he once saved my life—”

“Stephen helped you, but he sent assassins to kill you! He made a
choice
to become involved with treason. You do not owe him your life in place of his wife’s. Her death was an accident—it had nothing to do with you. If she was unhappy and afraid of Stephen, she would have tried to run away anyway. She probably would found another man to flirt with, one who would not have refused her—”

He put his finger to her lips. “The truth is, it’s not Stephen I’m doing this for.”

He could see her thinking, trying to understand. Then her eyes widened. The blue of them was magnificent—like the rich indigo sky over Eversleigh on a clear, perfect night.

“He was Bess’s son. Your loyalty is to
her
. But Bess would understand that her son was a fool to become involved with other dangerous men and plot treason. She would not expect you to suffer for Stephen’s stupidity. She wouldn’t want you to
die
.”

He wanted to explain, but he knew exactly what she’d do if he did—charge into danger.

“You could still run, then, if you won’t give up those names,” she insisted. “You could take my curricle and easily outdistance Oberon.”

Leaving her to face the consequences. “No.”

She reached out and smoothed her hands along the outsides of his thighs. He hardened instantly as she impetuously launched up and brushed kisses over his throat. “Make love to me then.”

For the last time.
She didn’t say the words, but they came to him in the ache in her voice
.
Her smile was so erotic, his spine was in danger of melting. But instead of sweeping her to the nearby settee, he clasped her hand and drew her close. He began waltzing her around the room to imaginary music.

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing with you.”

Her brows made two startled arches. “But why?”

“Because—” If he’d been of her world, if they’d both been untouched by murder and violence, perhaps this is the courtship they would have had. “Because it’s something I’ve dreamed of doing with you since the first time I saw you. Along with making love to you on a blanket spread out on soft spring grass. And drizzling brandy in your navel and putting cream on your nipples and turning you into my own private feast.”

As he’d hoped, she smiled. But it wobbled and a tear tracked down her cheek. “We will do all those things,” she whispered. “I promise you.”

She kissed him, drawing him into a fiery yearning with just the touch of her lips to his. Next thing he knew, he was reaching for her gown.

She wore a different dress, one that easily unhooked, and it puddled around her in a few moments. Realization hit him with the force of a cannonball. She’d dressed in preparation for seduction. Instead of a hard-boned corset, she wore something softer. Her breasts sat atop the bodice like peaches upon a snowy cloth.

She wanted him, just as in his dreams in Dartmoor War Prison. He knew he loved her but this sense of belonging, of shared passion and caring—of a partnership—was something he never could have imagined.

Her breasts almost appeared to be pouting because he was taking so long, so he gobbled her left nipple into his mouth. He flicked it with his tongue, laved it with circular strokes, and delighted in the way she trembled.

“Yes,” she moaned. She took hold of his shaft through his trousers.

Blood surged, make him rock hard. His balls jerked up, tight, hot, and full.

“You know so many secret, pleasurable things,” she whispered. “I want you to show me them all.”