Page 38 of The Rogue

Chapter 22

“Wherein a pirate tries for honour and discovers a bleak future.”

Lawrence looked down at the big brown eyes, full of tears and unhappiness, and felt his heart clench in his chest. He would rather face a hoard of armed cut-throats than endure the hurt in those eyes. It was too much to bear. But he must, it was the only thing he could do for them both. He had caused his brother such harm, and indirectly Henri too. Keeping them safe was all he could do now.

For a moment he dreamed of what might have been. If he hadn’t been such a hot-headed fool, defying his brother and running off with Mousy whose father was a smuggler, running tea and rum under the noses of the redcoats and the Water Guard. Mousy had worked in the stables and Alex had strongly objected to their friendship, sure that the older boy would lead him into trouble. As ever, he’d been right.

But Lawrence hadn’t seen the harm, neither in his friendship with Mousy nor in his involvement in smuggling. All he could see was that the people around him were starving when he had plenty. The local mines were failing, laying off men all along the county. If they could make money from smuggling then good luck to them, and more than that, it was an adventure.

So he had agreed to go and meet the boats as they brought the load ashore. The life of a smuggler seemed to him a grand thing in any case, much more exciting than lessons and instruction, and learning to behave as a gentleman. Where was the fun in that? And besides he’d lost his ring, gambling with one of the village lads. It was the one that bore the family crest. His father would be furious if he found out and the boy had promised to give it to him, if he helped them on a run. If he wasn’t too scared? As if! And so he’d gone.

He hadn’t realised Alex had been working with the Revenue to protect his father’s shipping interests.

And then the militia had arrived on the beach.

He closed his eyes against the memory of that night. If he hadn’t been there that night life would have continued. His brother wouldn’t have that dark shadow that fell across him now, for Lawrence had seen it just as Henri had, no matter that he denied it.

Perhaps if he hadn’t been such a fool, he would have met Miss Morton at one of the local dances, or at a ball given by his father. He would have been entranced by those dancing eyes, enthralled by her wit and sharp mind, and that teasing smile. He would have courted her, tried to win her heart. Perhaps they would have married and lived happily, grown old surrounded by children and grandchildren ...

He forced the images from his mind. There was little point in dwelling on such sentimental nonsense. The past was dead and gone, he had chosen his path and torn apart the futures of others in doing so. Now, at last, there was a chance to make amends. Henri would be well cared for, she would never have to worry about money again, and perhaps she could chase the shadows from his brother’s eyes.

And then he looked down again to see her watching him, and he felt as though he’d been laid bare, as if she’d seen it too, everything that might have been. And it hurt.

He didn’t think about the right or wrong of it; and wasn’t that always his problem, he just did what he felt in his heart and pulled her to him. He pressed his lips against that sweet, soft mouth and felt everything about him pitch and rearrange itself in the rightness of her embrace. She clung to him, her mouth opening to invite him in further and bastard that he was he accepted, with hunger and fire that raged in his blood and threatened to burn him to cinders.

Somehow, though he wanted to remain forever lost in her kiss, he became aware of the sway of lamplight approaching and the heavy tread of a man moving towards them. He let go of her abruptly and found he could no longer meet her eyes.

“You’d best be getting back,” he said, hearing his own voice echo, and sound as hollow and dull as an empty casket. “Your fiancé will wonder where you’ve got to,” he added, wondering at himself and the spite he felt at the words, when he alone had done this. He had arranged it all.

He didn’t look up as she moved away from him and went to meet his gaoler. But he looked after her as her slim figure receded into the shadows as she walked back to his brother.

As he’d known he would, Alex appeared an hour or so later.

“Well then,” Alex said, looking down at him with a resigned expression. “I don’t know what you said but she has agreed to marry me.”

Lawrence nodded and tried to appear as though he was satisfied with this outcome.

His brother looked at him, clearly unconvinced, and snorted. “You’re a damn fool. Can’t you see she’s in love with you?”

“Well if it’s true, I can’t help but think she’s the foolish one,” he replied, avoiding his brother’s eye. “A man with a price on his head, no home, no future ... I’ll not endow her with all of those worldly goods.” He looked up, holding his hands out and smiling. “I’m not such a bastard, you see.”

Alex quirked an eyebrow and then settled himself on the edge of a large crate, he gave his brother a shrewd look. “You love her.”

Lawrence laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot, she’s a sweet girl, that’s all, and I like her well enough not to ruin her.” He hoped the words sounded plausible because they had a hollow ring to his own ear he couldn’t ignore.

“It’s not too late to change your mind you know. My plan was perfectly sound. You could remain on mother’s estate, assuming it’s still there. Before the war I’d been searching for someone with enough vision and intelligence to oversee our interests there and you have certainly proved you have that. Oh and you could also manage the French side of some of the other ... business arrangements I have since gained a hand in.” There was something to his tone that made Lawrence look up. “I rather think it would suit you,” Alex added with a wry smile.

Lawrence looked his older brother over with suspicion.

Outwardly he really looked no different from how he had ten years ago. He was a powerful man in the prime of his life. There was no grey among the thick black hair and he was impeccably dressed as he always had been. It had always amused him how the young bucks among his friends had followed Alex with a slavish devotion he had, at best, ignored and had often been irritated by. But there was indeed a change, a darker air about him, and something Lawrence recognised but couldn’t put his finger on. Until it struck him, they were very much alike for all their differences. His eyes narrowed.

“What the devil have you been up to?”

Alex smiled. His expression was placid but knowing and Lawrence frowned.

“Alex?”

His brother stretched his long legs out in front of him, his black boots gleaming in the lamplight.