Sometimes a Rogue Page 10

  “Your mind is never that.” He sighed. “The answer is a long story.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder and watched the long afternoon rays of sunshine brighten the sea that led home. “I’d say we have no shortage of time.”

  Flannery hated having to report failure to his chief. Face like granite, he said, “They bought a yawl in Kinsale and escaped just as we were closing in.”

  She stared at him with fierce, rather mad eyes. “You let them get away? Why the devil didn’t you shoot them?”

  “We tried. The range was too great and their boat was moving.” He clamped his mouth shut. The less he said, the better.

  “The weather has been stormy,” she muttered. “With luck, the duchess and the Runner have drowned and no one will know.”

  Since she’d raised the subject, he had to tell her the rest. “As the boat sailed away, the girl shouted that she wasn’t the duchess, but her sister. She may have said that just to mock us. Certainly she fit the duchess’s description.”

  His chief slammed her fist onto the table. “The duchess has a twin sister! Like as two peas in a pod, except that the duchess was increasing and near term. You abducted the wrong damned woman!”

  Flannery flinched involuntarily. The chief might be a mere female, but she had a frightening intensity. He remembered how deftly the sister had explained that the baby was born and with a wet nurse. The treacherous bitch. “We were unaware that there was a sister.” Unspoken was his feeling that the chief should have told him that in advance.

  “The sister’s name is Sarah and she’s a spinster. Worthless, compared to the duchess.” The chief’s face turned to granite. “She’ll pay. Along with that bloody Bow Street Runner.”

  And Flannery wanted to be the one to exact revenge.

  Chapter 14

  Very few of Rob’s friends knew his sordid past, and they were not the sort to talk out of turn. But he realized that he wanted to tell his story to this sunny, intrepid young lady who had proved to be such a fine companion. He had no fortune, and his honor was of the battered, personal variety. But he could give her a piece of himself in the form of the experiences that had shaped him. He knew her well enough to believe she’d respect such an odd gift.

  “I’ve told the outlines of the first chapter of my life,” he began. “My mother was a second wife, a beautiful Irish vicar’s daughter. My father liked displaying her in London. He was a creature of the beau monde, a leader of fashion, and a blazing hypocrite who paid ostentatious lip service to religion while having a philistine’s soul.”

  “He sounds very unlikable,” Sarah said.

  That was a massive understatement, but there was no need for Rob to belabor the point. “In the interest of fairness, I should add that he had good reason to dislike me equally. I was not an obedient son. After I was expelled from two of the better known schools for the sons of gentlemen, he learned of the Westerfield Academy and packed me off to Lady Agnes, which proved a great relief to both of us.”

  “You said you intended a military career, but it didn’t happen,” Sarah remarked. She felt so amazingly good under his arm. “Surely he didn’t object to the army? It would be a respectable way to get you out of sight.”

  “I committed two great crimes that got me disowned and exiled,” Rob said. “The first was stealing my father’s beloved and very valuable snuffbox collection, and the second was announcing that I was going to marry Bryony, my wild shepherd’s daughter.” He glanced down into Sarah’s wide brown eyes. “I’m a thoroughgoing rogue, you know. I have that on my father’s authority.”

  Her mouth quirked up on one side. “You may be a perfect rogue, but I doubt that you stole his treasures to pay gambling debts or mistresses.”

  He felt inordinately pleased at how well she’d come to understand him. “I used the money to settle accounts with tradesmen whom my father had patronized but never paid. Some were on the verge of debtor’s prison. The snuffboxes brought almost enough to pay off everyone. The tailor’s bill was by far the highest.”

  “I suspect your mother and vicar grandfather must have shaped your character before your father could ruin it,” Sarah observed. “And you’re a better man for it.”

  “But a far worse gentleman,” Rob replied dryly. “It’s just barely possible that I might have survived selling the snuffboxes, but insisting I would marry Bryony was the final straw. Since I was only eighteen I needed my father’s permission, but I thought he’d be glad to give it so I could take Bryony off to follow the drum and he’d be rid of me. With any luck, I’d die honorably in action.”

  Sarah winced at the bald statement. “He must have been horrified at the idea of his noble Carmichael blood mingling with that of a peasant.”

  “Exactly. Once Bryony was out of the picture, he probably intended to buy me a commission to get me out of the way, but before that happened, my brother decided to remove the blot on the family escutcheon. Edmund was the heir and he followed in our father’s fashionable footsteps. Since he was about to marry an heiress from a famously fertile family, there was no need to keep a spare heir like me around.”

  Sarah’s brow furrowed. “What did he do?”

  A sharp gust of wind gave Rob an excuse to concentrate on sailing long enough to control the anger that thoughts of his brother always stirred. “Dear Edmund sold me to a press gang.”

  “Dear God!” Sarah gasped. “That’s evil. How was it even possible? The law governing impressment is quite clear. You were not a professional sailor, and as a gentleman’s son, you must have carried a protection.”

  “The law may be clear, but those who enforce it can be corrupt. Dear Edmund had no trouble arranging for me to be seized and gagged and delivered to a ship in need of crew.” Rob’s mouth twisted. “So in answer to your question, yes, I had later sailing experience. As a common sailor on an India trading ship.” And he had the lash scars on his back to prove it.

  Sarah shook her head in disbelief. “How could he do that to his own brother?”

  “Very easily. My father and I had a relationship best described as cordial dislike, but Edmund and I truly loathed each other. My last sight of my brother was his smile of satisfaction as I was beaten by four men, then tied, gagged, and hauled away.”

  Sarah made a small, anguished sound, but knew better than to speak about the unspeakable. “How long did you sail before the mast?”

  “About a year. I escaped from the ship in Bombay and found work with a high official of the East India Company. Mr. Fraser hired me on the strength of my Scottish name. He treated me well and gave me opportunities to learn. I became something between his private secretary and his bodyguard.” Rob had improved his fighting skills as well. Four men attacking him at once were no longer too many. He’d once saved Mr. Fraser when half a dozen dacoits attacked them.

  “I’m glad you found someone who valued you! How long were you in India?”

  “Almost five years. I considered staying, for it’s a fascinating place.” Even now, he would sometimes wake with the scents of the spice bazaars in his nostrils, or the brilliant tropical colors blazing in his memory.

  Dusk was falling, but there was still enough light to show her delicate features when she asked, “Why did you leave when you loved India and had a good position?”

  He smiled with self-mockery. “A hard, roguish Bow Street Runner shouldn’t admit such sentimentality, but . . . I’m British in my bones. I missed my homeland. So I gave half my savings to Fraser to invest and booked passage for London. I’d learned how to conduct discreet and sometimes dangerous investigations, which is how I ended up on Bow Street.” He brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Rescuing fair damsels.”

  “I’d miss England dreadfully, too,” Sarah said. “Did you ever confront your horrible brother?”

  Rob shook his head. “In a triumph of civilized restraint, when I returned to England I decided to put all that behind me and open the second chapter of my life.” He would not have survive
d if he hadn’t forced himself to let go of his fury and sense of betrayal. “I was tempted to let the family know I’d become a Bow Street Runner just to horrify them further, but there was nothing to be gained by seeking apologies or revenge. They wouldn’t give the former, and I didn’t wish to be hanged for achieving the latter.”

  “You were wise.” There was silence except for the sound of the waves and wind until Sarah said softly, “Are you happy in the life you’ve built for yourself, Rob?”

  “Happy?” he mused. “Certainly I’m content. I’m very good at what I do, and that’s satisfying. I help people and provide justice on occasion.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I even get to rescue fair damsels. Yes, I like my life.”

  “I’m glad.” After an even longer silence, she said haltingly, “It’s going to be hard to say good-bye, Rob. You’ve become . . . very special to me.”

  His heart tightened and he wished with sudden ferocity that things could be different. “We’ve had a chance to become close in a way that’s rare between men and women who in the normal course of events would never meet.”

  “Yes,” she sighed, recognizing the distance he was putting between them. “Would it be possible for us to remain friends?”

  He thought of his rooms above the pawnshop. They were neat and comfortable, at least for him, but he couldn’t imagine Sarah there. “There would be no point to it. Some things are meant to end.”

  He bent his head to give her a kiss that he intended to be light and sweet, a wistful tribute to what could never be. But she met his kiss with an ardent yearning that burned the night. Forgetting his good resolutions, he pulled her hard against him, exploring her mouth, the warm curves of her body, the power of passion concealed in her small frame.

  She matched his desire, her thighs bracing his left leg, her hips grinding urgently against his. Dear God, she was intoxicating, innocence and fire and generosity that touched forgotten places in his soul. “Sweet Sarah,” he whispered. “My golden princess . . .”

  The Brianne heeled over so hard they were almost swamped. Damnation, he’d released the tiller! He grabbed it with one hand and lunged to catch Sarah around the waist before she could slip overboard. Heart pounding, he corrected their course while he locked her slim body against his side.

  “Well, that was interesting!” Sarah said with a slightly mad bubble of laughter. “I’ve heard of a kiss moving the earth. We managed to move the sea.”

  He smiled, his tension fading because she could laugh. “I think the sea moved us. You seem to have a guardian angel intent on protecting your virtue.”

  She sighed, her breath warm through the damp shoulder of his coat. “Sadly true.”

  They stayed pressed close, neither of them willing to pull away. The wind was steady and the waves moderate now, but that wouldn’t last. Soon they must separate, and this time for good. A small boat at sea was no place for passionate dalliance.

  Rob’s shoulder was starting to numb from the weight of Sarah’s head when she asked, “Have you ever thought of changing your work? My uncle’s steward is near retirement age, so my uncle will be seeking a man to take over. I should think you would do such work well.”

  For a moment he actually considered it. Steward on a lord’s estate was a position of responsibility and respect and usually came with a fine salary and house. It was a good position for a family man. A lady like Sarah might marry such a man, if he was of good birth. It wouldn’t be considered a good match, but neither was it a complete mésalliance. He and Sarah could be together. . . .

  The possibility died almost as quickly as it had appeared. It would never do to live as a dependent of one of Sarah’s relatives. Poor Carmichael, unable to support a wife properly without family charity. No. They both deserved better.

  “It’s a generous thought, Sarah, but it wouldn’t suit,” he replied, choosing his words carefully. “One of the best aspects of being a Runner is that I’m largely independent. I’m not fond of taking orders, and I’m certainly not knowledgeable about estate management. Your uncle needs a proper steward.”

  “I knew you’d say that,” she said bleakly. “But I had to ask.”

  She’d had to ask. And he’d had to refuse.

  For the first time in years, Rob damned his brother for destroying all chance for him to have the life he was born to.

  “You must be exhausted,” Sarah said into the gathering darkness. “Do you want me to take a turn at the tiller so you can get some rest? We seem to be holding a fairly steady eastward course.”

  “I can manage. A yawl like this is easy to sail single handed. But if you want to try steering, this is a good time.” He stood and moved around the tiller, keeping a hand on it while Sarah slid across the stern bench and took hold of the long wooden bar.

  She was intrigued by how the tiller transmitted all the vibrations and subtle shifts of the Brianne. The yawl was like a living creature, and she dimly recognized how a good sailor could become attuned to his vessel.

  Then Rob released his hold and suddenly Sarah was fighting to keep the tiller at the correct angle. She breathed a curse and dug in her heels to hold the bar steady, but even so, the yawl was being pushed off course. “This is much harder than it looks!”

  Rob set his hand on the tiller from the other side, and Sarah was immediately able to manage. “Steering isn’t difficult, but it requires strength,” Rob explained. “You’re strong for your size, but that size is . . .”

  “Unimpressive,” she suggested when he seemed stuck for a polite word.

  “Exquisitely petite,” Rob said firmly.

  “Very gallant, but I’ve long since resigned myself to being a little dab of a thing,” Sarah said with a smile. “My friend Lady Kiri Mackenzie has many enviable qualities, but the one I really crave is her height. When she enters a room, she’s like a Hindu warrior goddess, attracting all eyes. I’m that little Clarke-Townsend girl.”

  Rob slid his hand back along the tiller so it rested warmly over hers. “You’re exactly the right height. Taller would be too tall. And you’ll be an economical wife because you’ll need less fabric for your gowns.”

  She laughed. “I shall be sure to point that out to any future suitors. The Clarke-Townsend twins: there’s the glamorous Golden Duchess, and her echo of a sister. Less sparkle and glamour, but agreeable and good at housekeeping.”

  His hand tightened on hers. “Don’t mock what is unique and special about you, Sarah.”

  She didn’t reply for a moment. “I don’t, not really. But I’m a moth next to Mariah’s butterfly. Her unpredictable life made her quick and charming and adaptable. I’m just . . . less interesting. Mariah didn’t really remember that she had a twin, but she created an imaginary friend named Sarah who was always perfectly, boringly correct. That’s me, except not perfect.”

  “So the two of you compare yourselves to each other unfavorably. ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’” Rob said with a smile in his voice. “While you doubt yourselves, any male seeing you together will know himself twice blessed. Two lovely young women, equally beautiful, yet deliciously different.”

  “You say the loveliest things, Rob.” Unconvinced, Sarah smothered a yawn. “Since I’m unsuited to guiding the Brianne, I’ll put together a supper for us. I just realized I’m ravenous.”

  “We haven’t had anything since a bite of breakfast at dawn.” Rob took over the tiller as Sarah moved away. “But by tomorrow evening, we should be on land with our choice of food. The day after, you’ll be with your family at Ralston Abbey.”

  “I hope so!” Sarah unlatched the locker that held the food and pulled out parcels of bread, cheese, and smoked fish. “Do you want some of the whiskey?”

  “Not straight. Add some water and I’ll have that. I’d recommend the same to you since it’s warming.”

  As she located the two pewter mugs, she asked, “Where do you think we’ll make landfall?”

  “If possible, I’d like to sail into Bristol, though I’
m not sure enough of where we started, or how far south the squall drove us. But I know the English coastline along the Somerset and Devonshire coasts rather well. There are a number of small harbors that will suit us if that’s where we make landfall.”

  “How will you manage during the night? You need some rest and we’ve established I’m no good as a substitute pilot.”

  “I’ll take down the smaller sail and reduce the area of the mainsail,” Rob replied. “Then I’ll lash the tiller in position and catnap beside it. If the wind or weather changes dramatically, I’ll come awake immediately.”

  She didn’t doubt it. She suspected that Rob could do anything. They ate their supper in peaceful silence. She was hungry enough that even the smoked fish tasted good. She doubted she’d develop a fondness for spirits, but the whiskey and water was drinkable and warming, as Rob had said.

  After they ate, she wrapped herself in both blankets at Rob’s insistence and wedged herself down beside him. The sounds of wind and sea were very restful.

  Someday she’d look back at this sailing adventure with wonder since it was so very different from the rest of her life. Just as Rob was.

  At least she’d have the memories.

  Chapter 15

  The morning dawned red and ominous. Red sky at night, sailors delight/Red in the morning, sailors take warning. Rob didn’t know how old the saying was, but suspected the idea had been around since Noah turned his hand to ark building.

  As he studied the sky, the blanket roll that was Sarah heaved, then unwrapped to reveal its tousled blond contents. She sat up and stretched, looking so delectable that he hastily turned his gaze to the sky again.

  “Sleeping on a wooden deck makes me appreciate the comforts of haystacks,” Sarah said cheerfully. “Did you manage to rest during the night?”

  “Yes, the winds were mostly light. I was able to doze a good bit of the time.”

  She folded the two blankets neatly and stowed them in a locker. “I won’t know what to do with a real bed when I have one again.”