What a Rogue Desires (20 page)

“Kiss me,” he murmured, leaning forward even more.

“—if you can.” She stopped and then laughed helplessly. “This is no time for a kiss!”

“Yes, it is,” he whispered, his lips now brushing hers. “It’s always time to kiss you.” And he did, cutting off her next protest before it could even begin.

Vivian gave in, letting him kiss away her doubts. Who knew how much longer he would kiss her? She had determinedly ignored that question for days now, but could do so no longer. Tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after they would catch up with Flynn. David would have his ring back and put an end to this Black Duke nonsense, but where would that leave
her
?

Even if David were willing to take her back to London with him, there was no future for her there. And chances were, to get the ring back she’d have to bargain with Flynn. Vivian knew Flynn didn’t retreat lightly or easily; he would demand a heavy price, especially after she’d been gone for so many weeks from his gang. It hadn’t been her fault, at least at first, but Flynn wouldn’t care. Vivian doubted he would just hand over the ring, even for a nice fat purse. He’d take her back as well, back to a life of thieving and hiding and lying. Now that she had been away from it for a few weeks, it seemed the cruelest fate imaginable to go back to it.

But what else could she do? Her life wouldn’t be worth living if David ended up on the gallows for Flynn’s crimes and Simon’s crimes and, worst of all, her crimes. Vivian knew she would rather feel the rope about her own neck than know she had let an innocent man—the man she loved—suffer in her place. Thieving had been her lot in life. She would use it this one last time, to get that bloody ring back and save David from being suspected, and then she would suffer the consequences she had only brought upon herself.

So she let David kiss her, and when he pulled her into his lap and cradled her head to hold her there, she only pressed closer. She pushed her hands under his coarse woolen jacket, running her hands over the worn linen shirt, memorizing the feel of his warm, strong body.
I love you
, she told him silently. He smoothed a hand down her cheek, over her shoulder and around to her back, turning her to face him. His hands spanned her waist and he lifted her, settling her again astride his lap, her skirt bunching around her knees. It took him only a few moments to unfasten her sturdy work dress and take it off. Vivian sighed and let her head fall back as he kissed a path down one side of her neck, across the bare skin exposed above her shift, and into the valley between her breasts. It was quite magical, what he could do with a kiss.

“What about your lessons?” she sighed.

“I’m learning a great deal,” he murmured against her collarbone. “This is the best lesson I’ve ever had.”

She laughed, draping her arms around his neck. “This is not what I meant to teach you.”

His fingers undid the string at her shift neckline. It slipped down her shoulder, and his mouth was there, feather-light. Vivian shivered. “I’ve accepted the fact that I’m a difficult pupil,” he said matter-of-factly. “My tutors used to thrash me weekly.”

“They must not have been good teachers.”

“Not nearly as good as you are,” he said with feeling. Vivian’s laugh caught in her throat as he pushed the shift further down. His fingers pulled at the strings of her short corset, and then he pulled the undergarment off, tossing it aside. The untied shift pooled in her lap as she pulled her arms free and wound them around his neck again.

“You’re a hopeless case,” she said, wiggling closer. His hands cupped her hips and pulled her belly against his. She could feel him growing harder beneath her, and she wiggled a little more, just to see his eyes darken.

“I’m hopeless?” he repeated in that velvet voice that sent shivers down her spine. “I’m not sitting naked in a man’s lap, tormenting him past all endurance.” His hands were sliding up her thighs, draped over his, and gathering the edge of the shift as he spoke. Vivian smiled, her heart skipping a beat. He made her stomach clench with anticipation when he used that voice.

“I’m not naked.”

“Let’s remedy that.” He slipped the shift over her head, leaving her in only her stockings. “Say, ‘kiss me, David,’ in that strange accent,” he murmured.

“Which one?”

“Welsh,” he said. “Cornish. It doesn’t matter.”

“Kiss me, David,” she whispered, and he did. “Kiss me again. And again.”

“Demanding wench,” he said with a low laugh. “What shall I do next?”

“Make love to me.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Please.”

The merriment in his face faded, and he took her hands in his, kissing her knuckles. “You shall never have to beg for that.” He carried her to the bed, and did everything she asked him to do, as well as some things she would have never thought to ask for. And as he made her body fairly sing with pleasure, Vivian could only think one thing:

Kiss me again and again, David, for I do love you
.

David waited until they were lying in drowsy lassitude, tangled in the bed linens. His conscience, heretofore mute and meek, had asserted itself with sudden vigor, so strongly he couldn’t ignore it until the feeling passed. Vivian lay curled in his arm, and he stroked her back. “I want you to stay here tomorrow,” he whispered.

She stirred. “Don’t be daft,” came her sleepy voice.

“It’s not safe for you to go along.” His hold tightened on her unconsciously. “Don’t think I haven’t realized how dangerous it is for you to do this.”

Her hand slipped free of the sheets, groping for his until she found it and laced her fingers between his. David closed his eyes against the wave of feeling that action caused within him. He couldn’t bear to lose her. “You’ll need help,” she said in the same relaxed tone. “D’you think Flynn will just hand over the ring with a tip of his hat?”

David was silent. He was afraid Flynn would try to take her along with him. He was afraid Flynn would be angry at her prolonged absence and shoot her. He was afraid something, some vague thing he couldn’t put his finger on but feared immensely, would happen to endanger Vivian in some way. He knew what Flynn looked like, and was confident he would be able to track the man down once they located him. David wasn’t afraid of anything for himself.

But for Vivian…he was terrified.

“I would feel better if you stayed here,” he tried again.

“David.” With a sigh she twisted in his arms to face him. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Don’t rush off on your own like a fool. Flynn would be too happy to put a pistol to your head for ransom, or just to scare you to death.” She cupped his cheek in one hand and gave him a sleepy smile. “We’ve got our plan, aye? Stick to it.”

He didn’t smile back. “I’m frightened for you.”

Something flickered for a moment in her eyes, then she gave a brief laugh. “Me? You’re frightened for me? Where was that thought when you were locking me in your house?”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. “Swear to me you’ll be cautious. I just want to find them, not confront them there on the road with my hands in the air.”

“Oh, David.” She sighed and touched his mouth with her fingertip. “I know all that. I’ve done this before, you remember?”

He noticed the Irish brogue slipping back into her speech, bit by bit. He noticed she seemed to grow calmer and more serene even as he began to regret ever suggesting such a plan. What had seemed perfectly justified and thrillingly daring back in his London home suddenly, in a small country inn, began to appear foolhardy and dangerous. What on earth was he thinking, asking a wanted woman to put herself in the middle of danger, over a blasted ring?

He had always been a reckless sort; no danger was too daunting, no adventure too risky. David had risked his neck many times, his fortune many more, and his reputation…his reputation had been risked so many times, there wasn’t much left to lose at this point. Often it was just the thrill of doing something wicked, something forbidden, that drove him onward. Knowing that he had gotten away with something, even something as small as filching the last tart from the tray when he’d been told he mustn’t, had brought an unparalleled rush of energy and excitement.

But now David realized perhaps that thrill had been bolstered by the knowledge, never fully acknowledged but there all the same, that he
would
get away with it. He was a Reece. His father, and then his brother, was the duke of Exeter. His very name was a shield from the consequences of his actions. No matter what he had done, he had never been in any real danger. He could have killed himself in one of his escapades, no doubt, but even then he wouldn’t have had to suffer through any consequences of his own death. His fortune would return, thanks to a generous income from his brother, and just in the last few weeks, he had seen how easily he could reclaim his reputation, if he so desired. With a modest effort, David knew he could regain his standing in society, obliterating a lifetime of debauchery and hell-raising.

Vivian didn’t have anything like that. If she were arrested and charged with highway robbery, no powerful family would step forward to protect her. David could try, but the rage against thieves was so potent, and justice so swift and severe, that it would be a lost cause. The only way to keep her truly safe was to keep her from being arrested at all, and the best way to do that was for him to take the stagecoach alone.

“Please, Vivian,” he whispered.

“Go to sleep,” she replied, and wouldn’t say another word.

For five days they rumbled about the English countryside on public stagecoaches. David, much to Vivian’s relief, had managed to absorb some of what she said and coarsened his voice and manner. He still wasn’t quite rustic; she supposed people might take him for a gentry farmer, or perhaps a prosperous merchant with airs. Either way, no one seemed unduly suspicious of them, and best of all, neither David nor Vivian saw any sign of constables watching the coaches.

They maintained the same pose throughout, David a man of some modest means and Vivian a poor gentlewoman, traveling to and from London. Upon reaching the end of a stage, David would hire a cart and horse, gallantly offering a ride to Vivian. They would circle around, keeping a respectable distance from London’s outskirts, until they got to the next coaching inn on Vivian’s list. He would let her down well outside of town, so they would arrive independently, and then late at night he would sneak into her room and make love to her, slipping out again before the morning to preserve their attitude of strangers.

It had almost become a version of normalcy for Vivian. Every day she woke alone, met David as though for the first time, allowed him to be increasingly polite and solicitous to her, until finally he slipped into her bed that night. This left her tired during the days, of course. It was hard not to fall asleep on the coach, even rocked and jolted about as she was. Even harder was keeping her composure when David, often seated across from her, gave her sly little looks, as though he were remembering what he had done to her the night before.

The sixth day began no differently. She was stifling a yawn behind one hand when a shot rang out and the coach lurched sideways as the driver reacted. Although she had been waiting for it, hoping for it, Vivian’s heart leaped into her throat. This had always been her cue, the moment when her role began in earnest. Today, though, there was more meaning and importance in it.

Under the folds of her skirt, David, seated beside her today, pressed her hand. She longed to squeeze it back, but his hand slid away before she could move. She wet her dry lips, scrupulously keeping her eyes away from him. They didn’t know each other—she must remember that—and she needed to keep her mind clear.

“What’s that?” asked someone indignantly.

“Highwaymen!”

“Highwaymen?” echoed David. “Surely not.”

“As sure as I can see,” answered the first man, leaning out the window. “Riding hard after us.”

The coach swayed and rocked some more, picking up speed. The man opposite Vivian hung on the straps as he was nearly catapulted off his seat. The interior of the coach was a cacophony of cursing, shouts, and cries for help. David threw out his arm in front of her as they were tossed forward and back by the coach’s motion, to keep her from being thrown to the floor.

“What’s going on?” roared one passenger.

“The bloody driver’s tryin’ to outrun them,” shouted another, risking life and limb by leaning out the window again to see. Vivian clutched at David’s restraining arm gratefully, instinctively slipping back into her frightened widow pose. After so many weeks away from it, the terror of the robbery was fresh and new to her. Even though she knew who pursued them, it had been a long time since Vivian had truly appreciated how frightening it felt to be robbed.

David was handling it beautifully. Of course he, too, was prepared this time, but Vivian honestly couldn’t see a difference between his reaction this time and that other time. His mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes narrowed and watchful. He looked braced for anything and slightly put out at the inconvenience of it all. Unwittingly Vivian saw again his body lying sprawled in the dirt, blood trickling down his face from where Simon had struck him. She swallowed and let go of his arm.

Another shot rang out, directly above the coach from the sound of it. The man who had been leaning out the window jerked his head back in with a startled oath, and the coach began to slow.

“Why are we stopping?” demanded one man.

“Because they’ve caught us,” said the man who’d been watching out the window. “Not much sense in racing to our deaths, now that they’re near enough to hit the driver.”

“I say we fight them,” warbled a young man in the corner, who’d been a sickly shade of pale green just a few minutes ago. “I don’t fancy being robbed by highwaymen, I don’t…”

“All right, then,” said David. “Draw your pistols, lad, and aim well, for there’s more than one of them.” He spoke in the coarser tone she had coached him in, and Vivian felt a thrill of pride, along with a little flutter in her stomach at the memory of how he had distracted her from the lesson. His retort silenced the young man, and all the passengers fell silent as the vehicle shuddered to a stop.

Vivian clasped her hands together, her palms perspiring inside her gloves. The door swung open. Crum, as usual, pointed his pistol at them. “Out,” he muttered. Purposely, Vivian kept her head down. Her mind had blanked. She had brought it off this far, but everything depended on the next few minutes.

As usual, Crum stepped into the doorway of the coach and began throwing down the luggage. As usual, Simon stepped forward with his sack. Behind him, Vivian caught sight of Flynn. Also as usual, he still sat on his horse, but now he was wearing a large plumed hat, the white feather bright in the darkness. The bloody fool, she thought in contempt, making a spectacle of himself. As the other passengers began grudgingly dropping their valuables into Simon’s bag, Flynn spurred his horse and trotted over to them.

“Good evening, gents,” he said in his rusty voice, sweeping off the ridiculous hat. The signet ring on his finger flashed ostentatiously. “And my lady,” he added. Vivian kept her face averted. She wanted to speak to Simon first, before Flynn or Crum had a chance to recognize her. “My thanks for contributin’ to the coffers o’ the Black Duke.”

“Scoundrel,” muttered the young man beside her. Flynn heard, for he chuckled.

“Aye, that and more!” With another grand gesture, he wheeled his horse around and circled to the front of the coach, no doubt to subject the driver and his men to the same show.

Simon turned from taking the thin man’s watch and purse. “Any jewels, mum?” he asked.

Vivian finally lifted her face and stared grimly at him as she opened her reticule and added a few coins to the bag. Simon glanced at her, then glanced back again. His eyes widened. She compressed her lips; don’t say anything, she willed. He blinked, and for half a second a smile crossed his face, his teeth white in his blackened visage. She glared intensely at him. He coughed, shuffled backward, and thrust the sack at David. “Valuables, guv,” he barked, barely looking at David.

Vivian breathed a little easier. There. She’d let him know. He would tell Flynn, and then she could meet them later. With luck, she could persuade Flynn to give back the blasted ring, and have it back to David tonight. And then he could prove his innocence, and she could persuade Simon to leave Flynn. One way or another they had to get away from this life. And then…

“Hold!” A new voice rang across the clearing. Simon spun around, his mouth falling open. Flynn jerked his head up. Crum looked up from kicking open trunks and running his dirty hands through them. Vivian’s heart fell into her shoes. A number of well-armed mounted men were circling them, pistols out. The Bow Street horse patrol, it seemed, had finally caught the Black Duke.

For a few minutes confusion reigned. Flynn shot off both his pistols, shouting at the top of his lungs, but one of the mounted men put an end to that by shooting Flynn’s horse. The animal went down with a scream. Flynn jumped free and tried to run, but was quickly caught.

More men moved toward Crum and Simon. At the first report of Flynn’s pistol, Crum took to his heels and ran with a speed Vivian had never guessed he could achieve, vanishing into the shadows. Half a dozen horsemen thundered after him. Simon made no effort to flee. He whirled to face Vivian again, his eyes incredulous, but her expression must have indicated her alarm and dismay. Simon’s face relaxed in defeat, and he bowed his head as the men approached, his pistol hanging limply from his fingers. He surrendered without resistance, and was led away, across the road to where Flynn was scuffling with the constables. He didn’t look back.

Once rescued from the highwaymen, the passengers broke into an excited babble. David took advantage of the uproar to turn to her. “Are you hurt?” he said in a whisper. Vivian gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. He looked relieved. “Not quite what we planned,” he said under his breath. “What now?”

Vivian didn’t say anything; she didn’t know what they should do next. One man detached himself from the crowd of constables and horsemen, and came over to them, hands up, gesturing for quiet. Everyone quieted quickly, waiting with palpable eagerness for the word. “Gentlemen, madam,” announced the man pretentiously, “we have caught the Black Duke.”

A murmur went through the passengers. Standing on tiptoe, Vivian glanced toward the prisoners. She saw Flynn and Simon, arms tied behind their backs. Someone shoved Simon, knocking him to his knees in the mud. Her brother slumped over, hiding his face, and she swallowed a moan of anguish for him. She’d put a bullet in Flynn’s black heart for dragging a boy along on this dangerous a job. Her eyes caught on the constables then, standing to the side. They were talking to a tall, thin man who’d been on the coach. That man was gesturing wildly with both hands at the other passengers, and Vivian knew, with a blinding flash of realization, what he was telling them.

She caught David’s coat sleeve. This might be her last chance to speak to him. Crowded together, he too had been looking around, but bent at her second tug on his arm. “Thank you,” she said softly.

A slight frown creased his face. “Don’t worry,” he said distractedly. “I mean to have a word with the constable, about your brother.”

Vivian gave a tiny shake of her head even as her heart twisted. He thought she was worried about her brother, and was already trying to help. Darling David didn’t realize what she was saying. “I didn’t mean that,” she said. From the corner of her eye she saw the constables turning to look their way, scanning the passengers as their planted man continued to speak and point right at her. “I meant…for everything else. For the happiest weeks of my life.”

That caught his attention. “It was my pleasure,” he said, surprised, “but can’t we discuss it later?”

Her laugh caught in her throat. “Perhaps,” she said wistfully. “I hope.” But the constables were now striding in her direction. She pulled at David’s arm again, drawing him nearer still. “But if not…it meant more to me than you could ever know. Remember that, please?”

“I’ll never forget it,” he said, sounding thoroughly bewildered. “But let me—”

“Good-bye,” she whispered.

“I say, miss.” The biggest constable shouldered his way through the knot of passengers and took her arm roughly. “Mr. Spikes is wantin’ a word.”

“Here, now,” David protested as the burly man hauled Vivian after him. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

The man didn’t stop. “Mr. Spikes wants a word,” he repeated. The other passengers scurried out of his way, and for some reason Vivian allowed herself to be pulled along without protest. David took a step after them, only to find that another of the constable’s men was blocking his way.

“Let me by,” he said.

“Can’t,” said the man, who looked stupid but strong. “Mr. Spikes’ll have his word.”

David pressed his lips together and watched, determined not to leave her. To his astonishment, Mr. Spikes’s word consisted of irons locked around her wrists. “Stand aside,” he said to the man in a stern voice.

The man laid a pistol along his forearm. All the constables were thrumming with excitement, and belatedly David realized the thrill of catching the Black Duke was blinding them to all else. “Stay where ye are, guv,” he replied. “Mr. Spikes’s orders.”

David fumed. Mr. Spikes would suffer for this. Dragging a woman off in irons! A flicker of alarm crossed his mind. Vivian had been among the passengers; they couldn’t possibly think she was one of the thieves. Could they? It had been as clear as day to David that her brother had recognized Vivian, but could anyone else in the coach have observed it? At all costs, David mustn’t give her away now. He tried again with the man.

“Who is this Spikes, who’s taking a woman away in irons?” he asked, trying to sound merely outraged at the principle. “Some sort of constable you have. Look, they’ve shackled her legs, too. No man could stand by and see a woman treated so badly.”

The man didn’t even look. “Mr. Spikes tells us he’ll handle it his way, and so he shall. If he’s abusin’ a woman, no doubt but that he’s got cause. Just bide your time, sir, and all will be well.”

David continued to frown, watching as Vivian was handed up to the seat of a wagon. The male prisoners were already in the bed of the wagon, trussed and on their bellies. Vivian turned, and David almost shoved past the idiot in front of him to go to her, appearances be damned. She looked frightened. For the first time he saw fear in her face. Did she know, he wondered. But of course she did. That’s why she had said good-bye.

“Well, I intend to have a word with the local magistrate about it,” he said loudly. “It’s not proper and not right, shackling a woman.”

“That woman’s one of them,” said the man who had announced the capture of the Black Duke. He was fairly preening with pride, and puffed out his chest as the passengers all turned to him again. “We got them, we did, the Black Duke and two of his accomplices.”

“The lady was a passenger on the coach,” David protested. “Just as we were.” The other passengers murmured behind him, but David ignored them.

“She was an accomplice, and we’ve got her,” retorted the constable. “One of our men was on the coach, and he saw the signal she gave to the outlaws.” He tapped the side of his nose smugly. “We’re not fooled by a pretty face, no, sir.”

Dismay kept David silent as the rest of the passengers all began to chatter at once, and the constable went on congratulating himself. Holy Christ. What was he to do now? Say too much, and he might make things worse for her. Say nothing, and watch her be driven to her hanging anyway. What was he to do to help her, he wondered in anguish. What could he do? If Marcus were here…Perhaps Ware could intercede, although these were not his lands. Perhaps David could borrow some money from Marcus’s funds and bribe the man to let her go…But if he failed, her situation would be worse, and he would have lost his chance to save her.