Page 47 of The Return of the Rake

He returned a smile as bleak as the sea on a winter’s day.

“I’m no marquess. My reputation in this town is as black as a man’s can be. It would hardly do you any credit, would it now?” he said dryly.

“People are such fools,” she exclaimed, moving to him despite her best intentions. “How can they look at you and not see how good you are?”

He laughed at that, taking her hands in his and holding them in his warm clasp.

“You do me too much credit. I am not a good man, not by a long stretch, and never have been. But I am trying to do better. I’ll never be a man you can take pride in calling your own, though, love. I’m a secret, one to guard closely. If you wanted to risk that, I’d not deny you, for I want it too badly to be anything less than reckless, but it’s you who would get hurt, and… and I don’t want that. So, I’ll not—”

Anne kissed him again, pressing against him until he released her hands and pulled her close, deepening the kiss until she was breathless and out of her wits.

“I would take pride in you, Jasper King,” she whispered. “I would. For I see you, all of you, good and bad, and I would call you my own and gladly if that was what you wanted.”

With that, Anne pushed out of his arms and ran from the room before she could humiliate herself with any grander declarations than those she had already made. Hurrying to her room, she closed the door and locked it before throwing herself down onto the sofa and weeping.

“Fool, fool!” she cursed herself over and over, for she had done the one thing she had sworn never to do: given a man the secrets of her heart.

Perhaps she was not yet in love with him, but she was falling too hard and too fast, unlike anything she had known before, and the knowledge scared her to death. Though she knew Jasper King was not a man to ill-use the power he had over her, he was not a man who would marry her and settle down to a peaceful life in Little Valentine.

Once more she had given her affection to a man who did not want it, or could not take it, and the knowledge ate away at her peace of mind.

Jasper stood for a long while in the parlour, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest. All day long, Anne had been on his mind. The chance to see her again, to hold and kiss her again, lingered behind his every thought. He had told himself desire was all it was, the longing to be in the company of a woman who pleased his eye and stimulated his mind. But he was not blind to his own nature, his desire to possess things of rare beauty the like of which he could once only have dreamed of, nor to the fact that Mrs Anne Adamson was so far beyond his reach it was laughable.

She had been born and raised a lady, that much was obvious. No matter what the vindictive gossips said about her, she was lovely and honourable and destined for a better man than he. How could he, the bastard son of a fisherman and a heartless foreigner who’d abandoned him the first chance she got, a man who had made his fortune by breaking the law and breaking heads along the way, how could he dare to think of her?

She could not be bought and owned like the ruby necklace. He could offer her nothing of value, nothing she could take without tarnishing everything that made her lovely and bringing her down in the world. He would not, could not do that to her. There was no honourable offer he could make that would not destroy her position in this town, and a dishonourable one was now out of the question.

King glanced up at the portrait of her husband and felt a surge of jealousy so scalding it seared him from the inside out. That man had wed her, had perhaps loved her. He had known what it was to wake with her beside him and call her his own. He’d had that good fortune, for he’d been born a gentleman, a man worthy of asking for the hand of such a woman. Unlike King, who could only bring her shame.

The best thing he could do was to leave town at once.

An unexpected and shocking shaft of pain pierced his heart, winding him with the force of it. Jasper frowned, putting his hand over the place and rubbing it with the heel of his palm. Something rather like panic rose in his chest as he considered the new and unwelcome sensation.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “No.”

Unsettled and by now thoroughly out of temper, Jasper downed the remains of his drink, and then the untouched one Anne had poured for herself. Thus fortified, he headed for the front door, relieved to discover it had not yet been locked for the night and strode outside.

Fresh air was what he needed, he decided, striding out and sucking in deep lungfuls of the stuff. It was cold now, and he wished he’d brought his overcoat, but he strode on regardless, his breath clouding on the night air. He did not look where he was going, nor take much notice, too absorbed in thoughts of what had just occurred to care.

It was not until the sound of angry voices reached his ears that his attention returned to the here and now.

Ahead of him on a lane he recognised as leading down to the sea, were two shadowy figures. It did not take King long to make out the heft and belligerent stance of Bill Jenner. For a moment, the other man’s identity eluded him until he saw the walking stick.

Captain Dearborn turned, as if he would walk away, and King saw Bill bend down, swiping something from the ground.

“Dearborn!” he yelled. “Look out!”

Dearborn, instincts honed from a life in the army, ducked at once and swung around, using his cane like a sword. It came down upon the back of Bill Jenner’s legs, taking them from under him and he fell heavily, awkwardly, and with a cry that cut short too quickly.

King ran forward, his own instincts for violence and death jangling as he knew what he would find long before he reached them.

Bill was too still, had fallen too hard and too badly.

“Bastard nearly killed me,” Dearborn said breathlessly. “If not for you, that rock he dropped would have broken my head in two.”

“Aye, it would have, but instead it’s broken his own,” King said, with none of the satisfaction he ought to feel at standing over Bill Jenner’s lifeless corpse.

“What?” Dearborn ran forward, aghast.