Falling In Love Again (Heroic Rogues Series) Read online

The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. “For me?”

  She closed the space between them and ran her palms up his chest, then linked her fingers around his neck. “I think you know why.”

  He brought up his hand to cup her face, his thumb drawing lazy circles near her mouth. “I do.”

  With soft strokes, she ran her fingertips along his mask. “Can you not tell how much I have come to care for you?”

  His smile disappeared, pulling his lips straight. Even the color of his eyes hardened, so she quickly continued, “You have made me feel secure unlike any man has ever done before. I do not want to lose this feeling, Hawk.”

  Groaning, he pulled her tight and crushed his mouth to hers. Her heart soared and she clung to him. Sighing heavily, she enjoyed his wild kiss, but then he pulled away. When he stepped back, emptiness filled her chest.

  He scrubbed his chin. “No, Isabelle. I have too much to do tonight.” He met her stare. Softly, he brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Return to your room and rest.”

  When he turned away from her, tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t stop them this time. He had crushed her heart and she didn’t know how to mend it. Dejectedly, she hurried toward the door. As soon as she placed her hand on the knob, she stopped. Once she walked out, that would be the end. If she couldn’t get him to change his mind now, she never would.

  Swallowing the thick lump of emotion gathering in her throat, she turned around, pressing her back against the door for strength. He stood still, facing away from her. His body was too stiff. Obviously, something bothered him. Something she needed to fix.

  “Hawk?”

  Slowly, he turned toward her. No smile lit his face. Her heart sank further.

  “Please –” She took a deep breath. “Please tell me what’s amiss. Why… why are you acting this way? What have I done?”

  Her voice cracked and she covered her mouth with her hand, not wanting to show him her quivering lips. But her whole body quaked with the sobs she held back. He’d be blind not to notice.

  He shook his head as he walked toward her, stopping mere inches away. With gentle fingers, he stroked her cheek. “You did nothing, my dear. Forgive me for acting like this, but much is on my mind.” A tear slipped down her face and before she could wipe it, he brushed his fingers across her cheek, catching it. “Please don’t cry.”

  She grasped his hand and kissed his palm, keeping his gaze locked with hers. “You’re pushing me away, and I want to know why.”

  Hawk leaned against her, pinning her to the door as his arms wound around her waist. She held in a sob as she rested her head against his chest. Softly, he brushed his lips across her hairline. The tenderness expressed made her want to bawl like a baby. Why did his emotions jump from one extreme to the other?

  “Oh, my dear Isabelle. You’ve pleased me greatly these past few days, and I’ve been very happy. But alas, our time together has come to an end. Gabe will take you to New York in the morning. I cannot keep you here with me.”

  She lifted her head and looked into his shadowed eyes. “Why can’t you keep me? What if I don’t want to leave?”

  His mouth lifted in a half smile. “You must, my dear. There’s no room in my life for a woman, and there will never be.”

  She brushed her fingers through his hair, hoping to get close enough to the ties of the mask and remove it when the time was right. “You once told me you had a secret life in town. Is there any room for me there?”

  “No. As much as it pains me to say this, I’m not a marrying kind of man. My heart is hardened and revenge is the only thing that drives me. I’ll not let a beautiful woman—no matter how passionate she is—turn my thoughts to love and family.” He kissed her forehead again. “Isabelle, find your betrothed and marry him. I’m certain he’ll make a fine husband. You understand, don’t you?”

  Emptiness filled her, from the ends of her hair clear down to her toenails. Pain like she’d never experienced before tightened her chest and made it impossible to breathe. Removing his mask was not important now. He really didn’t care for her like she did him. She wanted to cry all over again. At least she knew his true feelings. He was a bounder… a cad… a defiler of women. He didn’t give a whit about Isabelle’s feelings.

  Anger pulsed through her and beat in rhythm with her heart. She pushed her palms against his chest and moved him back. “Oh, I understand more than you think. I understand why I looked at you differently from other men. I thought you were someone special, but you aren’t. You have no heart at all, Captain Hawk. You’re as ruthless as they come, and no better than the swine and gutter rats.”

  She opened the door and glared at him. “I commend you for showing me your true self before I allowed myself to fall in love with you. Thank you for saving me from a fate worse than death.”

  As she hurried to her room, she sighed with relief that he didn’t try and stop her. When she entered her room and slammed the door, the tears flooded her eyes while cries of agony wracked her whole body. Never had she wore her feelings on her shoulders before, and never would she do it again. She’d practically begged for his love, only to have him cut her chest open with a knife and crush her heart. She would never sink to that level again. From now on, she would control her life and not let other people trample on her.

  She fell to her cot and cried, wishing the notorious Captain Hawk hadn’t captured her heart—and wishing she had indeed killed him on that first day.

  * * * *

  Isabelle’s crumbled heart lay in her chest, causing a horrid pain. Trying not to think about it, she looked out the window of the coach as the driver took her through the rainy streets of New York. Excitement should be bouncing in her bosom since she’d never seen this place before. Instead, misery and dread lurked inside, making her wonder about her future.

  The dirty, rotten, gutter-rat, Captain Hawk, had graciously assigned Gabe to blindfold her and take her—and her trunk—to the edge of town. After he uncovered her eyes, he gave her a little money to find a hackney. He also let her have his cloak to ward off the rain. The so-called generous man even went as far as to give her a name of a solicitor to get in touch with who would help her with her father’s estates. She’d rather empty her stomach all over the retched captain than to take his offer.

  The clip-clop of horse’s hooves on the cobblestone road echoed in the early morning, leading her toward her father’s home. A few vendors were already about their business, calling out their wares.

  Sighing, she frowned and rested her head against the wall of the coach. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked and forced the moisture away. Never again would she cry for that man. Hawk wasn’t worth even spitting upon, although she would certainly consider doing that very thing if she saw him again.

  Because being with him and his friends for all those days was enough to ruin her reputation, she prayed her father’s estate would still be livable. She hoped she could sell his things in order to obtain some kind of lifestyle until sailing back to London to be with her aunt or uncle. She had made a terrible muck of her life, and she vowed never to listen to her heart again. Obviously, highwaymen didn’t fall in love and marry. She had set her sights too high, only to see them crumble in devastation before her eyes when he had so rudely turned her away.

  The coach slowed in front of a square, two-story white house surrounded by a white and black picket fence. A decorative panel crowned the front door while flattened columns stood on each side. Five windows crossed the front of the house on each level, all closed behind draperies. The pitched roof displayed two chimneys on opposite ends. No smoke billowed from the inside. Isabelle’s hopes dropped. The house looked deserted. Would she be able to do what she needed by herself?

  With help from the driver, she stepped down from the vehicle as he collected her trunk. A knot tightened in her throat, and she feared what she would find once entering the house. It must be done. She couldn’t sulk forever over how she’d made a shambles of her life.

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bsp; Isabelle’s legs shook as she made her way through the gate and to the front porch. She rapped lightly on the door, waited a few minutes, before trying the door to see if it opened. It did. Darkness welcomed her from inside.

  She clutched her hands against her bosom as she walked into the foyer. Smaller than what she expected to see, the hallway led to a staircase in the middle of the house.

  “Is anyone here?”

  Holding her breath, she prayed to hear a friendly voice, but lonely silence greeted her instead. Dare she stay in a house that she didn’t know for certain was still her father’s? She had no other place to go unless she asked the driver to take her to Viscount Lockwood’s place of residence. That she wouldn’t do unless it was her last choice.

  “Where do you want your trunk, Miss?”

  The driver’s voice startled her, and she jumped around and faced him. She pointed to the empty space beside the door. “Right there, if you will.”

  He nodded and set her trunk down, then turned and walked out of the house. She waited until he climbed on top of the coach before she closed the door. Instead of lighting the lantern on the shelf, she walked into the nearest room and opened the curtains. Dust coated the thick drapes and drifted through the air. She sneezed, returning her attention to the room as a small amount of light came inside. Not one stitch of furniture sat on the wooden floor. Her heart dropped. She feared the rest of the house would be as empty.

  As she walked toward the hall, the stairs creaked, making her stall in leaving the room. Someone else was here. Soft steps descended, squeaking each step on their way. Isabelle breathed faster, not knowing whether to stay still or run.

  Her frozen limbs picked her choice of action and she stayed still and stared at the doorway leading into the front hallway. A shadow appeared on the steps and she held in a scream.

  Chapter Ten

  As the shadow came more into view, a familiar face with wide, frightened eyes searched the room. Relief flooded through Isabelle, and she sobbed with joy, finally finding the energy to rush into the hallway with opened arms. “Mrs. Winters, it’s you.”

  Color bloomed in the older woman’s cheeks as tears spiked her eyes. “Oh, my dear child. You’re alive.” She threw out her arms just as Isabelle rushed into them.

  Being with her companion now, Isabelle’s future didn’t look so dismal. There was a ray of hope in her cloudy existence.

  She pulled away and wiped her wet eyes. “Oh, Mrs. Winters. I didn’t know what had become of you and the others.”

  The older woman pulled a lace handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. “That wretched highwayman had his men bring us to the border of New York and made us walk the rest of the way. That man is a despicable scoundrel, I tell you.” She pushed the lace handkerchief back into her sleeve. “But my dear, tell me what happened to you. We heard rumors you tried to kill him. Is this true?”

  Isabelle nodded and sniffed. “When they started shooting at our stagecoach, I took the jeweled dagger from somebody’s satchel and hid it in the folds of my skirt.”

  Mrs. Winter’s eyes widened. “You did? I wondered what had happened to that.”

  “It was yours then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that very weapon saved me. When the captain took me to his room that evening for dinner and made improper advances...” She shrugged. “I had to protect myself, and stabbing him was the only way.”

  “Did—did he die?”

  Isabelle frowned, wishing now she had succeeded in killing the rat. “No, he lived, and punished me severely after that.”

  The older woman gasped, her fist flying to her mouth. “Oh, dear. What did he do?”

  “Made me his servant and nursemaid.”

  Color drained from the woman’s face as her eyes widened more. “Why, the devil himself would not have been so cruel. Did he—did he—force you in any way?”

  Isabelle didn’t want to lie to her companion, but she couldn’t have Mrs. Winters knowing what really happened. The older woman wouldn’t understand that Isabelle had somehow fallen in love with the scoundrel. “Not to worry, Captain Hawk didn’t force me at all. In fact, there for a few days, he acted like a gentleman.”

  A deep sigh released from Mrs. Winter’s mouth as she relaxed her shoulders. “Oh, thank the good Lord.” She touched Isabelle’s hand. “So, did he give you back the dagger?”

  Isabelle frowned. “No. Apparently, he couldn’t trust me with it after that.”

  “Oh, how terrible.” A smile crept back to the older woman’s face. “I’m surprised he released you instead of taking advantage of having a lovely woman in his presence.”

  Isabelle shrugged. “Let’s be grateful he doesn’t think the way we do, but I’m relieved he let me go before something dreadful happened.”

  Mrs. Winters took hold of Isabelle’s elbow as they finished descending the stairs. She shook her head. “Well, I hate to believe you were better off with that scallywag than you are here, but there’s nothing in this house of value. It has been stripped bare. What will you use for inheritance?”

  Groaning, Isabelle rubbed her forehead. “I cannot think yet. There has to be some way.” She stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked around. “Perhaps we can travel to the bank today and inquire about the title to the house. If we could sell it that would certainly help with my lack of funds, don’t you agree?”

  “Excellent idea, Miss Stanhope. I’m quite certain we shall find a buyer soon and be headed back to London within a fortnight.”

  “I pray you’re correct. My journey here wasn’t worth remembering, and I’d love nothing more than to put this bad experience behind me and get on with my life.”

  Mrs. Winters patted Isabelle’s arm. “And that we shall. Before you know it, all of this will be but a horrid nightmare.”

  Isabelle strolled to the window and gazed outside. Finally, the rain had stopped and the street had come alive with pedestrians, rushing around to do their shopping. “I pray I can get rid of this nightmare once and for all. I’d like to leave here without having to call upon my betrothed and beg for money.” Sighing, she folded her arms. “I haven’t heard good things about Viscount Lockwood.”

  The older woman scrunched her forehead. “Viscount Lockwood? I thought you were betrothed to Mr. Matthew Winston?”

  Isabelle nodded. “I was. While with Captain Hawk, he gave me some letters my father had written to me but never sent. One of the letters referred to Matthew as Viscount Lockwood. Father must have not thought to mention that the first time he told me of the betrothal. Either that or the man somehow came into a title.”

  “Indeed. But I have not heard good things about the viscount, either way you look at it.”

  “I fear he may not want to marry me now that my father has passed.” Suddenly an idea struck her, and she spun around to face her friend. “You don’t suppose—” Terror caused her heartbeat to quicken. “Do you think the viscount took all of Father’s possessions? After all, if this was my inheritance and I’m supposed to marry him… Wouldn’t he feel cheated because we never married?”

  “Oh, my.” Mrs. Winters placed her hand on her throat. “I cannot say if you are right or wrong, but it is a good theory.”

  Isabelle groaned. “Oh, I sincerely hope I’m wrong. I don’t want to be tied to that man. My life would certainly be over if that were to happen.”

  Panic crawled through her body and tightened her chest. If the viscount thought this was all his, and hearing about his greedy nature, she had no doubt he would keep it. Could she talk him into giving it back? Probably not. More than likely, he would push the betrothal and force her to marry him.

  But if the viscount had her inheritance, what funds would she use to return home to England? She wasn’t about to lower herself into begging for his help, either. Yet, who else in New York did she know that could help her?

  Captain Hawk’s masked face came to mind, his warm, hooded eyes smiling at her, melting her heart t
he way they had always done. That man obviously didn’t want her as his wife but would he be willing to help her home? Could she hide her pride enough to ask him? Especially since he’d broken her heart so drastically.

  * * * *

  Marcus Thorne took his first steps on New York soil, not as a highwayman, but a civilian. He was himself again after six months of playing Captain Hawk. Well, he wasn’t quite himself because he’d never told anyone who his real father was, instead taking on his maternal grandmother’s last name. It was soul-wrenching enough that Lord Blackstone wanted his ‘sickly son’ dead, anyway.

  Before leaving his hideout, Marcus shaved his facial hair, not wanting to look that way again. Too many memories were connected with his beard and mustache and how Isabelle loved to stroke it. He couldn’t think of her again. He also tied his long hair back with a leather band. Leaving it hang would only draw attention, and he wasn’t the wild, fearsome highwayman when he reached town. He definitely needed a haircut. Even his personality had to change when he played himself. He couldn’t have people figuring out his disguise.

  As he continued into town, he realized most everything remained the same in the six months he’d been gone. The waterfront area still reeked of dead fish and salt from the sea, and as he walked farther away, the stench lessened as the scent of flowers tried to drown it out. More cottages lined along the road, but the same market street vendors were selling their wares. People he’d recalled doing business with gave him a pleasant nod of greetings.

  He shaded his eyes from the sun as he rounded the corner of a building. A gust of wind knocked against him and threatened to push off his hat. He grasped the brim and hurried toward his shipping company. Thorne Shipping had been his pride and joy for several years. Of course, his pirating days helped fund the company, too, which he kept a secret from his employees.

  He pushed the door to his office open and walked inside. The strong scent of tobacco and seasoned chicken hung thick in the room, so he propped open a side window to help circulate the air. From one of the corner rooms, his employee, Mr. Harvey, scampered out, a cooked chicken leg in one hand as his other grabbed at the linen napkin still hooked in the collar of his shirt. A bulging middle section held a few ink stains, and his breeches appeared ready to snap open due to his rotund figure.