Page 21 of Her Wicked Highwayman
If he was being honest, part of him had hoped to learn that she was with child, that there was some tie between them that would keep her in his life. But he had no name, no idea where she’d gone... and no way to learn if their union bore fruit. Had they both chosen another path, Isla could have had a sibling. The thought turned his hard heart into a soft mess. He could feel thehidden pearl necklace still wrapped around his wrist, a constant reminder of what he’d lost.
God’s teeth, I suppose my rakehell days are coming to an end,he mused as he sat down on Isla’s bed. He was taken up more and more with the thought of love and wanting it for himself and Isla. But to find a love that matched what his siblings had, a love that made one’s lifetime seem to stretch into an infinite summer... that seemed an impossible dream. Lightning had struck three times for the Lennox children. What were the odds of a fourth? Yet he’d been close to grasping that dream last night, he was sure of it. What a damned fool he was.
He glanced at the bed he’d bought for Isla. It was made of white poplar and was intricately carved with fairies and flowers on the headboard. The first few nights he’d put her to bed at the Lennox home he had shown her the fairies and had her trace the carved shapes with her tiny little fingers. He’d whispered tales of the fae folk until the little hand curled around his at last loosened as she’d fallen asleep. It had become a ritual for them, to share tales of magic and beauty before bed. Isla had known such loss in her short life and still carried so many fears. It was his duty to care for her and show her that life could be beautiful and safe. That she was loved and cared for and would never be left alone again.
“Will you dress her for dinner, Mrs. Chesterfield?” he asked. It was quite unusual to have children at dinner, but Rosalind and Ashton enjoyed having Isla dine with them, and Rafe was glad. He liked the sprite’s company immensely and missed her whenever she wasn’t able to dine with them when Ashton and Rosalind had guests.
“Of course, sir.” The nanny bustled to the dresser that held most of Isla’s clothing. Rafe’s stolen money had bought those gowns, but someday soon he would find a way to earn money without stealing. He would speak to Ash tonight. It was time heswallowed his pride. He would not ask for a loan, but he would seek his brother’s counsel about investing. Once he’d collected enough, he could invest it smartly. He settled Isla firmly on his lap and lifted her chin with gentle fingers.
“Papa?” she breathed.
“Yes, kitten?”
“I thought you might not come back.” She shut her eyes and buried her face once more against his chest.
“Nonsense, I would never leave you in the dastardly clutches of Uncle Ash,” he teased.
She giggled, but her face turned solemn again. “But my first Papa and Mama, they did.”
Rafe shot a glance at the pair of small painted portraits of Isla’s birth parents on the side table by the bed. He didn’t always have them out on display, but when he left Isla for any length of time, he made sure her parents were watching over her. The portraits had been among the possessions they’d collected from the room where Isla’s mother had been staying. Her father had dark hair with kind, serious eyes. Her mother had a gentle face with a hint of mischief in her eyes. He mourned their loss as much as Isla did, even though they were strangers to him. They had been the ones to bring this child into the world, and he would never stop thanking them for the gift that he’d been given, though it had come at the cost of their lives.
He took a moment to find the right words.
“You understand that they didn’t want to leave you, don’t you? And I will do everything in my power to always come back to you.” He kissed Isla’s russet-colored curls and held her just a little bit tighter. Ash was right, three weeks had been far too long to be away.
Isla let out a sigh that threatened to fracture his heart. How could she sound so world-weary at such a tender age? His poorchild was destined to carry the soul of a woman a century old, not a wee mite in the bloom of life’s youth.
“Go let Nanny dress you for dinner, and then you and I shall sit together at the table. I will read you a story tonight before bed. And if we areverysneaky, we might steal some apple tarts from Mrs. Gibbs down in the kitchen.” He kissed her forehead again and set her down on her feet.
“Now I must go bathe, kitten. Uncle Ash will be displeased if I show up at dinner smelling like horses.”
Isla brightened as she gazed up at him. “Youdosmell like horses,” she agreed. “But I like the smell.”
He chuckled as he surrendered her to her nanny and left the nursery.
His chambers were two rooms away, and he was glad to be home. The hunting lodge was comfortable enough, but he missed the comforts of hot baths and softer beds than the hay-filled mattresses of the hideout. He carefully removed the pearl necklace from his wrist and set it into a silver jewelry box on the mantel above the fireplace.
A copper tub in his dressing room was already full of steaming water, so he stripped out of his clothes and eased into the bath. Lord, he was getting too bloody old to go gallivanting around the countryside for weeks at a time. He’d been so close to leaving thieving behind, until that dark-haired vixen robbed him. He was still furious for being played a fool by the woman, but he had taken her virginity. She had taken the money he’d intended to invest with Ashton. Perhaps that was a fair price to pay—his future for the gift of her trust.
He closed his eyes and leaned back in the bath and smiled. Despite it all, he could not stay mad at her. However, he imagined all the ways he would torture her with pleasure when he found her again, how he’d make her regret stealing from him by tying her to his bed and teasing her until she begged to betaken and taken again. For every banknote she’d stolen, she’d pay in kisses; for his horse, she’d pay by ridinghimuntil she came so hard she lost her voice.
He might be willing to sell his very soul to steal one more night with that lovely little thief—his fire-breathing dragon, his luminescent pearl, his shooting star streaking across the night sky.
CHAPTER 5
Cold water splashed around Diana. Sputtering, she flailed at the edge of the bathtub that she’d fallen asleep in and slipped beneath the surface. The now-tepid water seeped into her skin and deep into her bones, chilling her.
“Miss Diana, you must come at once!” Her butler’s panicked whisper came through the closed bedchamber door.
She blinked and wiped water from her eyes. “What is it, Peele?” She reached toward the little stool beside the bath and grasped a clean cloth to dry herself. As she stood, her body shuddered from the chill of the air. Water sluiced down her skin and she shivered as she wiped the cloth over herself as quickly as possible.
“You must make haste. The magistrate has come to see you, and he has two gentlemen with him. They claim to know you were abducted by the highwaymen and demand to see you.” Mr. Peele’s usually calm voice held a note of fear. “I told them you were not receiving visitors today, but the magistrate was firm in his demand to speak to you.”
A flash of panic shot through Diana as she dug in her dresser for clothes. If Peele was shaken, this must be serious indeed. She had never met the local magistrate and wasn’t even sure sheknew his name. She’d stayed out of social circles in the country, except for her best friend, Rachel Merton.
She threw on a pale-lilac day gown that buttoned up the front and braided her damp hair into a coiled knot before tying a ribbon around it. She wasn’t as put-together as she could be for such a meeting, but it would have to do.
Diana squared her shoulders and left her bedchamber, mentally readying herself to meet the gentlemen below. Gentlemen turning up at her home when she lived alone, unmarried and without a proper chaperone, could cause quite a bit of trouble. While her land was not entailed to any male heir, it was buried in debts, and there was always the fear that those debts might be bought at any moment by a gentleman with no honor. She could be turned out on her ear, and her servants might lose their home and jobs as well. So she had to keep up appearances as best she could. It was why they had kept the front rooms, where she would entertain guests, as newly decorated and furnished as possible, while the rest of the house was in a far worse state.
