What A Rogue Wants (30 page)

The door slammed open, causing her to
jump. She jerked away from her father. Grey’s face flickered in
shadows. As he came closer, she could see the concern in his eyes.
Grey clutched her arm and pulled her away from her father. “That’s
all the time they’ll allow us, Madelaine.”

She didn’t have time to protest as she
was tugged toward the door.

“
Don’t trust anyone,” her
father called to her back. She looked over her shoulder, and her
father pointed at Grey. “Don’t forget. Trust no one. Least of all
him.”

Before she could respond, she was
yanked through the door, and Grey slammed it shut. With a soft
click, he locked the door, and led them both away and toward the
stairs. She trembled violently with shock. Her father was not
guilty of murder, but he was guilty of treason. Why? Why would he
do such a thing? And did it even matter? He was her father. She
couldn’t let him hang if there was a chance to save him.

Grey pressed her against the damp,
stone wall of the staircase. He trapped her legs between his
thighs, and then he moved his arms to either side of her shoulders.
His gaze searched hers. “What did he say? How can I
help?”

She looked into his eyes and read
yearning mixed with concern. Could she trust him? Her heart told
her yes, but what if it was just because that’s what she wanted to
believe? She couldn’t stake her father’s life on it. “He said he’s
not guilty. He said to go home before they hang him because the
truth matters little if he can’t prove it.”

Her low voice hitched on her partial
lie. Warm tears filled her eyes. She didn’t hold them back, as
she’d always done with her mother. She allowed them to flow down
her face just as she allowed Grey to take her in his strong
embrace. The knowledge that she was lying to him, that this would
likely be the last time he ever held her made her tears come
harder, until she was hiccupping as she cried. If she’d had any
doubt she loved Grey, she was sure she did now, which made her
betrayal and lies all the harder to bear.

When the clock in the servant’s hall
struck ten, the upstairs chambermaids’ voices filled the halls as
they made their way toward their sleeping quarters to end another
long day serving in the castle. Madelaine hovered in an alcove―well
aware she was taking a great risk of raising suspicion if the wrong
person saw her. She couldn’t flee for home yet. She had to see her
father first, and in order to do that she needed some
help.

Grey’s brother had given her some
shifty looks. He didn’t seem the type to trust or take chances.
Likely, someone was watching her, thanks to him. With Elizabeth
gone, Madelaine didn’t have a single friend to turn to, not that
she could have been able to turn to Elizabeth anyway. Her chest
ached with loneliness, her throat with unshed tears. Alone again.
Would she forever be the outsider, the outcast?

Madelaine clenched the material of her
dress and fought back the fears that threatened to render her
helpless. Father was an admitted traitor, therefore soon he would
either be dead or disgraced, and soon she would be disgraced too.
And a traitor to the king. The thought sent icy tingles down her
spine.

Her friendship with Elizabeth had to
be over for Elizabeth’s sake, just as Madelaine’s hope for a future
with Grey was over. She had no choice but to help her father, but
that didn’t mean she’d let Grey put his own neck in danger for
her.

She rubbed the back of her hand over
her tickling nose. Her stomach turned and knotted as she went over
her plan once again. Where the blazes was Constance? With her
flaming red hair, she should be easy to spot among the other
chambermaids. Madelaine had heard enough castle gossip to know
Constance would do anything for a bit of coin, so hopefully she
would be so glad not to have to earn her extra money on her back
that she’d ask no questions.

Madelaine pressed further into the
dark shadows as the maids passed by her. Finally, a woman with red
hair walked down the passageway. And alone! Finally, a blessing.
Madelaine stepped from the shadows. “Constance.”

The chambermaid’s eyes narrowed and
then her mouth dropped open. “Lady Madelaine, whatever are you
doing below stairs?”

“
Where’s your
room?”

Constance pointed down the
hall.

Madelaine pulled up her hood and
motioned forward. “Take me there, please. I need your
help.”

“
My lady―”

Before the chambermaid could finish
her sentence Madelaine pulled out the heavy bag of coins under her
cloak. “Consider this the first installment for your troubles.” She
handed the jingling pouch to the maid and watched Constance’s mouth
turn up with a slight smile. “There’ll be more of this to come if
you keep your silence.”

“
This way,” Constance said
and rushed toward her room.

Once the door was softly shut and
Madelaine spared a glance for the barren room to ensure no one else
was in there, she focused on Constance. “I need you to help me with
something.”

GREY LEANED AGAINST THE COLD, stone
wall of the alleyway by the river Thames with his eyes shut and
tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. Deep tiredness settled
into his bones. The town could burn around him and he’d not be able
to move a muscle, but still sleep evaded him. It wasn’t the cold or
the draft off the water keeping him awake, nor was it Edward who
kept annoyingly tapping his foot as he watched for Madelaine. It
was worry for Madelaine.

She was settled safely in her room.
He’d stayed outside her door for well over an hour listening to her
soft crying. When she had fallen silent, he’d crept away. His worry
wasn’t for her safety at this moment, but for her safety tomorrow,
and the next day and a year from now. If her father was going to be
hung, Grey would marry her to protect her from those at Court who
would harm her, but he could not get past his growing fear that he
would be endangering her by marrying her.

What else could he do? He could find
someone else to marry her. Surely with enough gold―he shoved the
thought away as he envisioned the sort of unworthy man who would
marry a woman tainted by a treasonous father. Madelaine’s life
could very well end up a living hell married to such a greedy
bastard.

She could give her life to the Church,
but somehow he didn’t think she’d willingly do that, and deep
within himself he wouldn’t want her to. He was scum. No, he was
greedy scum. He wanted to marry her. He loved her. There was no
sense denying it. He wasn’t happy with her father’s predicament.
Far from it. Grey hated it. But he couldn’t deny there was a part
of him relieved that the only choice seemed marriage. And since
that’s the way it was, he wished the damned guilt would go
away.

But it gnawed at him. She was innocent
and good and pure, and he was none of those things. She deserved
better than him, but fate had dealt her a bad turn. He stood and
vowed to do everything in his power to protect her always from his
enemies. Protecting her started now. He’d not indulge his brother
for one more minute. Madelaine was not an accomplice as Edward
suggested. She would not be fleeing in the middle of the night to
meet the French spy Edward believed her father must be working
with. “I’m going upstairs to my warm, soft bed.” Grey bent to
retrieve his satchel. “Madelaine won’t be sneaking out because
she’s innocent.”

“
Don’t be fooled,” Edward
said.

Grey flung his satchel on his back and
walked toward his brother. “You’re the fool to waste your time out
here.”

Edward pointed toward the river.
“Who’s the fool? Look there, brother. And never forget this moment
in case you foolishly let your heart rule your head again. Our
little pigeon has flown her coop, exactly as I
predicted.”

Grey pushed Edward out of the way to
get a good view of the river embankment where the boatman they’d
employed was docked. There was no denying that a slight woman, with
Madelaine’s exact build, slipped into the boat. And even if Grey
wanted to deny it was her, when her brown cloak parted and revealed
the same blue dress she’d been wearing earlier, the truth was
undeniable. “Goddamn it.” He couldn’t say more. He watched her pay
their man and the boat headed down the river and away from the
castle. His mind reeled with disbelief. This was Madelaine, his
sweet, innocent Madelaine. He shoved the doubts away. “There has to
be an explanation.”

Edward tugged Grey toward the river
where they had another boat waiting. “Oh, to be sure,” he said
snidely. “The word traitor explains it all, if you ask me. Now,
untie the boat,” Edward demanded as he got on.

Grey undid the rope as fast as he
could and climbed aboard. The boat dipped as he stepped on and
glared at Edward.

“
She’s no traitor.” His
steely tone dared his brother to argue.

“
I’ll not stand here
arguing with you, Grey. We’ll follow her and see which one of us is
right.” Edward stared at him across the space. “But mark my words,
she’s hiding something.”

Grey shook off his initial shock.
“Shut up. She might just be afraid. I’d be, if I were her. Think of
it. Her father could be hung as soon as tomorrow if the king
appears and says it’s to be so. She thinks she has no one. Maybe
she’s trying to get home where at least she may have a loyal
friend.”

Edward shook his head. “I don’t agree.
Why not leave in the morning instead of like a conspirator stealing
away in the night? Besides, you can’t be trusted when it comes to
her. She’s gotten under your skin.”

Grey gritted his teeth. He’d not deny
the statement, but Edward was wrong on one account. “My first
loyalty is to the king. If Madelaine is guilty of helping her
father, I’ll stop her. Mark my words.”

“
I need no words, just
actions.”

Up ahead, Madelaine stood at the helm
of the boat. Where the hell was she going? For a good quarter of an
hour, they followed her, until the boat maneuvered to the side of
the river bank and Madelaine got out with the boatman’s help. As
she started walking toward the dark woods, Grey spoke. “That’s the
way to her home.” He didn’t bother to hide a triumphant smile. When
Edward didn’t answer, but pulled their boat beside the other, Grey
spoke again. “I told you.”

“
We’ll see,” Edward said.
“Granger,” he called to the boatman of Madelaine’s boat. “Who was
the lady and where’s she going?”

Grey didn’t bother to wait for an
answer. He scrambled out of the boat; his boots crunching twigs and
leaves as he landed on dry ground. Without a backward glance, he
raced toward Madelaine’s departing figure. At the moment, he didn’t
care about anything but being with her and protecting her. If she
wanted to go home, he’d take her there, let her have a few days to
mourn her loss and then he’d marry her. He wanted to make her his
wife before her father was dead. That way no one could stop them
and no one would dare to publicly lay any blame or suspicion at her
feet since she would be part of his family.

He strode forward and when he was
within range where he thought she’d hear, he called out,
“Madelaine!” She kept walking into the woods. He frowned. Had she
not heard him? “Madelaine!” He doubled his steps. Her steps
quickened in time with his, each crunch of her boot against the dry
leaves coming faster than before until she was running.

“
Madelaine, for God’s
sake! Stop!” He broke out into a run, shoving branches out of the
path as he did. Dry limbs snagged on his coat and scraped his face
as he ran. He raced forward, determined to reach her. Within a few
strides, he grabbed her arm.

He whipped her around to face him,
whatever soothing words he thought to say died. Constance glared
back at him. His mind reeled and then fear for Madelaine surged
through his veins. He gripped Constance’s arms harder than he’d
normally ever handle any lady. “Why the devil do you have on Lady
Madelaine’s dress? Where is she? What have you done?”

Constance wrenched her arm from his
grip. “The lady paid me to pretend I was her. As to where she is, I
couldn’t say. As to what I’ve done―” Constance shrugged. “―no more
than any other dirt poor servant. I took good money offered for a
job that harmed no one. You’d do the same if you had as many mouths
to feed and bodies to keep warm as I do.” Constance leveled him
with a scathing look of hatred. “Then again, I doubt you understand
how hunger can gnaw at the belly, and how you can be so cold you
doubt you’ll ever feel warm again.”