Page 31 of Road Trip With a Rogue (Her Majesty’s Rebels #3)

Daisy’s knees threatened to buckle as Lucien came toward her. Her hands were shaking in reaction, and she took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart.

“Where are you hurt?” he commanded again. His gloved hand came up to cradle her jaw before she could answer, his thumb sliding over her cheek, and his eyes darkened as he catalogued her split lip and the bruising to her jaw.

“Bastards,” he growled. “They hit you.” His eyes narrowed even more. “Did they do worse?”

Daisy shook her head. “Only tied me up. I’m fine. Truly.”

He glanced back over his shoulder, as if debating whether to go back and inflict more damage. “I should kill the bloody lot of them.”

She caught his wrist and shook her head. “No. No more killing. Not for me.”

A lump formed in her throat as she looked up at his profile and a thousand conflicting emotions tangled in her chest. “It’s good to see you. I didn’t think you’d—”

“Come for you?” he finished. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he glared down at her, as if mortally offended. “I’ll always come for you, Daisy.”

His gaze burned into hers for an instant before he looked away, as if realizing what he’d just said. How it could be construed. He cleared his throat. “We never leave a man behind.”

He removed his hand from her cheek and stepped back, and her stomach swooped in disappointment. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her for comfort. To forget the panic in the safety of his embrace.

She wanted him to kiss her.

Stupid.

Finch caught Lucien’s loose horse by its reins and brought both mounts to a stop, then dismounted and gave Jem a none-too-gentle kick in the ribs to make sure he was definitely unconscious.

Daisy retrieved her last knife from near the fire where Jem had dropped it, every muscle aching now that the excitement was over. She watched impassively as Finch found a coil of rope in the back of the cart and made short work of tying Jem’s ankles and wrists.

Lucien stalked over to Connor to do the same, but when he knelt down beside him, he glanced back at her with a guilty look.

“He’s dead.”

Alan was still conscious, slumped in the doorframe, and he made a low sound of anguish. “Connor?” He glared at Lucien. “Dead? Ye’ve killed my brother!”

Lucien returned his glare. “He shot at me first. And he would have hanged for kidnapping if I’d sent him to the magistrate.”

Alan snapped his mouth shut, clearly realizing the same fate still awaited him. He was bleeding from the pistol shot Lucien had inflicted, and Daisy’s stab wounds, and he groaned as Finch bound his shoulder roughly with his cotton neckerchief.

“Why bother to patch me up if ye’re plannin’ to see me swing?” he groused.

Lucien stared down at him irritably. “I’d gladly send you to the gallows, but the lady, here, prefers mercy.” He gestured toward Daisy. “You’ll live. But don’t forget that every breath you take, from this moment until your last, is because she spared you.”

Alan nodded, his face white, and glanced over at Daisy, who sent him an impassive stare.

The knowledge that Lucien wasn’t going to execute the remaining two men made her almost giddy with relief, but it warred with an angry frustration that their stupid actions had resulted in the death of their brother.

Perhaps this loss would be enough to stop them trying something so foolish again. She certainly hoped so.

Connor’s mount had galloped off at the first sound of gunfire, and neither of the horses that had pulled the cart had saddles.

“Shall I drive the cart back to Gretna?” she asked, already dreading the task. She just wanted to lie down and sleep. Her head was throbbing, her knee hurt where she’d grazed it, and she was feeling distinctly lightheaded. She hadn’t eaten anything all day.

Lucien shook his head. “You’re in no state to drive, or ride, for that matter.” He remounted his horse in a fluid move and held his hand down to her. “You’ll ride with me.”

His tone brooked no argument, and she didn’t have the energy to object. She simply grasped his hand and placed her foot on top of his, using it as a step as he pulled her up to sit in front of him, astride.

The horse pranced in protest at the additional weight, but he quieted it, and she quashed a shiver of awareness as his arms came around her on either side. She wasn’t used to riding like this. Her bottom nestled snugly between his thighs, in his lap.

She swallowed as an unwelcome jolt of awareness skittered through her. “Are we going back to Gretna?”

“No. Perry and Violet have gone to Carisbrooke Hall to let them know to expect us. It’s only a few more miles.”

Daisy was feeling so bad she didn’t want to go even one mile, but she certainly didn’t want to stay here, so she simply nodded as he wheeled the horse and urged it away from the cottage.

“Hoi!” Alan shouted, aggrieved. “Ye can’t just leave us ’ere.”

Lucien didn’t even spare him a look. “I’ll tell someone you’re here when we get to the next town. Bury your brother wherever you see fit, and if I ever see you or him”—he nodded toward Jem’s prone body—“ever again, I’ll see you both hanged. That’s a promise. Do you understand me?”

“Aye,” Alan muttered. “Understood.”

“Good.”

Lucien kicked the horse forward.

“I’m sorry you killed again because of me,” Daisy said softly.

He transferred the reins to one hand and wrapped his free arm around her waist, tugging her back so her spine pressed more securely against his chest.

“I’m not going to lose sleep over it, Hamilton,” he said, a hint of irony in his tone.

“And neither should you. He deserved it. Which is more than I can say for most of the poor bastards I killed in the name of King and Country. None of them wanted to be in a war, any more than I did. They were just doing what they were told. Those three were stupid, greedy bastards. It was justice.”

Daisy nodded wearily. She could hear Finch’s horse following somewhere behind them, and hoped the rising moon would provide enough light by which to see.

“The first man I killed was justice too.”

Lucien’s quiet comment made her stiffen in surprise.

“What?”

“That duel you asked me about. The one before the war. You called it cold blood. But it was justice.”

Daisy frowned at the horse’s ears, amazed that he was finally answering her question. Was it because of their recent close shave? Had their moments of shared danger somehow bonded them together?

“The man I killed was Elaine’s stepfather.”

The girl he’d said he’d loved. “Why?”

“Elaine came to me when she discovered she was pregnant. The child wasn’t mine—we were friends, like you and your Tom, but we’d never made love. She was desperate, distraught. She said the child’s real father would never offer for her, and she begged me to marry her and protect her with my name.”

Daisy didn’t dare to move. Perhaps the darkness, and the fact that he wasn’t looking at her made it easier for him to talk? Either way, she was keen to hear the truth from his lips.

He let out a huff of self-derision. “I refused. Told her I was too young to marry, too busy living my life in London. I assumed she’d got involved with a married man, or someone equally unsuitable. A servant, maybe. I pitied her, but not enough to tie myself to her for the rest of our lives.”

He shook his head, his chin rubbing the top of her hair where she rested against him.

“Her family bustled her away up here, to Fountain’s Court—their estate shares a boundary with Carisbrooke Hall—to hide her situation.

She was an embarrassment, an unwed girl in the family way. They told everyone she was ill.”

He sighed. “In truth, I forgot about her. Out of sight, out of mind. When I finally came back up here to visit my sister, months later, I learned the truth from one of the servants. Elaine’s stepfather was the father of her child.

He’d forced himself on her, and her own mother had refused to believe it when she’d told her.

She blamed Elaine for seducing her husband. ”

Daisy bit her lip in horror, her heart aching for the younger woman.

This wasn’t the first time she’d heard of such a sordid case; instances of familial abuse were tragically common if one read the newssheets or followed the criminal cases at the Courts of Justice.

Worse still were the thousands more cases in which the perpetrator was never brought to justice.

It made her blood boil just thinking about it.

It struck her how easily she could have shared a similar fate.

The Duke of Dalkeith was not her real father, but he’d never once treated her with anything other than the respect due to a daughter.

He’d certainly never tried to rape her or hurt her in any way.

She’d been incredibly fortunate in that regard.

Better his careless inattention than such a sick, unhealthy “love.”

Lucien adjusted the reins, steering the horse over the springy heather and through a shallow stream.

“When I heard that, I went a little mad. I rode over to Fountain’s Court like a stupid knight errant, convinced with the arrogance of youth that I could save her.

I demanded to see her. Her stepfather refused.

I offered to marry her, but he wouldn’t give her up.

I challenged him to a duel. He and four of his men beat me to within an inch of my life.

They left me in a ditch, lucky to be alive. ” His low laugh was hollow, bleak.

“By the time I’d recovered, Elaine was dead. The baby came early, and she died in childbirth, along with the child.”

Daisy closed her eyes tighter against the knot of emotion in her chest. Not just for Elaine and her child, but for Lucien, too, racked with guilt for not caring enough, for doing too little, too late. “I’m so sorry.”

His chest rose and fell in a deep breath.

“What happened to him? Her stepfather? You eventually got that duel.”

“I did.” His tone was harsh now, bitter with recollection.

“It took two years, but I finally encountered him in London, at a club. I beat him, fairly, at cards. Won a fortune off him, in fact. But ruining him financially wasn’t enough.

Why should he live when Elaine was cold in the ground?

So I taunted him until he accused me of cheating.

He was drunk, but we both knew it had nothing to do with cards.

“I demanded the satisfaction of a duel, knowing he couldn’t refuse in public without looking like a coward. A gentleman would have waited until he was sober, but I didn’t care about being a gentleman. We pushed back the tables and each nominated a second. Your brother Devlin was mine.”

Daisy tightened her grip on his jacket. She hadn’t known that particular detail. Devlin had never mentioned it.

“He must have realized I meant to kill him. He fired early, winged me in the shoulder. I shot him through the heart.”

“Good,” Daisy muttered fiercely.

She felt him look down at her, but didn’t lift her head. “He deserved it,” she continued, “but I’m sorry you were the one who had to deliver justice.”

“Killing him didn’t bring back Elaine.”

“No. But her spirit can rest in peace, knowing you avenged her.”

She twisted round to finally look him in the eye. “I’m sorry I said you weren’t noble.”

He brushed a tangled curl of hair from her cheek, careful not to press on the bruised skin. “When I heard those men had taken you, it was like hearing about Elaine all over again. I wanted to kill them all.”

How had she ever thought him cold? The emotion burning in his eyes was unmistakable. God, this man. He’d killed for her. Blackened his soul even more to protect her. But he’d also lied to her, deceived her, and then casually announced their engagement.

What on earth was she going to do?