Take My Heart (Heroic Rogues Series) Read online

  She glanced heavenward and knew the Lord would strike her down for thinking ill of the dead. But the only good thing Fredrick had accomplished in his life was finding traitors against the Crown and turning them over to the King. Being an agent suited Frederick well, and oft times his activities kept her intrigued as she eavesdropped on some of his meetings. Every so often she had followed him to see how he went about capturing the traitors—until she accidentally discovered him sneaking off to join his mistress. That had promptly ended Mercedes’ inquisitiveness.

  Unfortunately, with his death the money stopped as well. If only she could do something to earn a living. If only she could be a good agent like Lord Maxwell had been. If only…

  Her thoughts skidded to a halt and she straightened in the leather seat. Why can’t I be an agent? Kat had let it slip about her traitorous husband, William Braxton. If Mercedes could get enough information on the man to turn over to the King’s army, surely they’d see her value as an agent for His Majesty and enable her to pay for Kat’s care.

  A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She could do it. She’d spied on her husband often enough and he’d never had an inkling of her activities. Confidence grew in her chest and she straightened her shoulders.

  There was only one problem she could foresee. It had never been in her nature to act bold and forward. Could she possibly get the information she needed and force the King’s army to listen to her?

  Assertiveness had always been a part of Kat’s character. Now it was Mercedes’ turn to be aggressive—and it frightened her nearly to death.

  * * * *

  Philadelphia, two weeks later

  Mercedes Maxwell stepped down from the stagecoach, breathing a heavy sigh. The trip had been too long, and jostled her around so much the coiled hair style at the base of her neck fell in a disarray of curls. The constant sway of the coach made her feel like she’d been on a ship at times, especially when she closed her eyes. If not for all the dusty dryness coating her mouth, she would have thought she’d been tossed by waves instead. Thankfully it was mid-spring and not yet summer or the humidity would have suffocated her.

  “Lady Maxwell? Are ye all right?” Timothy trudged up behind her, pulling her trunk.

  “Yes. I will be fine.” She surveyed the busy street, pushing strands of hair out of her eyes. “So long as we can find lodging before I am jostled again.”

  Her servant, a man old enough to be her father, straightened and walked in front of her. “Although we’ve few shillin’s left, I’ll find a conveyance. Ye stay right ‘ere with the trunk. It shouldn’t take much time to locate transportation to yer brother-in-law’s.”

  Sweeping the unruly mass of hair over her shoulder, she sat on the trunk and clutched her satchel. She must find lodging soon. Funds were low, which placed a greater urgency with her plans.

  Especially now.

  Tears stung her eyes as she reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out the letter she’d received from Dr. McClain at the asylum.

  Lady Maxwell, I regret to inform you that your sister, Katherine Braxton, died after you left the hospital. She found a knife and cut herself. When I found her she’d lost so much blood, it was too late to save her. Accept my apologies and my deepest sympathy. I will send you the bill since your sister didn’t have the funds to cover it. Respectfully, Dr. McClain.

  Mercedes swiped the tears from her eyes and placed the letter back in her cloak. There hadn’t been time—or money—for a proper burial. When Mercedes arrived at the hospital, the physician had already placed Katherine in the box and lowered her into the ground. All Mercedes could do was pray and lay a rose on top of the long wooden box. Not long after that, hatred had fueled her and she couldn’t wait to confront her brother-in-law. I will make William Braxton pay one way or another!

  When she imagined meeting her brother-in-law for the first time, her heart pounded fiercely and fear caused her palms to moisten. She hadn’t yet written to him to inform him of his wife’s demise or about the added expenses of the hospital and burial. But that wasn’t foremost on her mind any longer.

  Staying in Philadelphia, Mercedes had planned to watch Mr. Braxton closely and gather as much information as she could dealing with his traitorous actions. What words would convince him to treat her like family? She must figure out what she would say to him in order to get close enough to spy on him. If he were the demon Kat had accused him of being, he wasn’t going to welcome Mercedes into his home with open arms.

  Off to the side, a street urchin drew her attention. The young lad stood close to an apple cart, his gaze darting around the street. Dirt streaked his face and tattered clothes, and his hair appeared as if he hadn’t combed it for weeks, let alone washed it. When the owner of the cart turned his back on the boy, the lad’s hand snaked out and he grabbed an apple.

  That little thief! She stood as he ran past. Reaching, she tried to grab the imp, but only succeeded in stumbling forward. The owner of the cart swung around and faced her, his eyes widened the longer he stared.

  “Oh…it’s you,” he accused, pointing his finger.

  Her heart dropped. “No! I didn’t take it. It was that little boy.”

  The man glanced up the street and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Constable, over here.”

  She shook her head, but the cart owner wouldn’t listen. He continued calling for help, pushing aside patrons as he hurried toward her. He wouldn’t arrest her…would he? She couldn’t take that chance!

  I must get out of here. Panic surged through her and energy pumped to her legs. She lifted her skirt and ran—to nowhere in particular—just to get away from the cart owner and the man of the law. Ahead of her stood a building with hedges planted in the back. If she could get there and hide...

  She turned the corner and paused, resting against the wooden frame of the building. Deep breaths heaved from her chest that burned from lack of air. Cautiously, she peeked to see if they’d noticed her. They had and were still running after her, calling for her to stop.

  Clutching her cumbersome skirt, she scurried toward the end of the building and ducked behind the far corner. Another street opened before her, spectators gawked at the commotion she created.

  Where was Timothy?

  She didn’t stop to rest, but kept running until another alleyway loomed ahead. Looking over her shoulder, she breathed a heavy sigh that the men following were farther behind. But within seconds, more men had joined the chase.

  She turned another corner and ran into a solid form. A scream tore from her throat as she grasped his arms to keep from falling. Two strong arms circled her waist. She looked up into the face of a soldier wearing a red coat; the symbol of those men serving England, her mother country. The white periwig covered his head, the queue held in place by a jaunty black ribbon.

  “My, my.” He grinned, tightening his arms around her. “What lovely package do I have here?”

  Instead of being relieved to see him, she worried he would believe she stole the apple just as the others did. “Please sir, release me at once.” She squirmed, but to no avail.

  “’Tis all right, my dear. I shall protect you.” He gave her a wink. “Have I not always been your champion?”

  His words confused her, but she didn’t have time for an explanation. “Please, if you would be so kind. I must get away.” The shouts of pursuing men grew louder. “You do not understand. I cannot be caught. I fear they will put me in jail for a crime I did not commit.”

  The soldier raised a dark eyebrow. “What stories are you telling now, Mrs. Braxton?”

  She gasped and stared at the man holding her. Mrs. Braxton? He thought she was her sister? But of course he would. She and Kat were identical twins. And nobody knew Kat had died.

  As she opened her mouth to deny his comment, heavy footsteps rounded the corner. Panic gripped her, and she couldn’t breathe. They had come to take her away.

  Daring to peek over her shoulder, it surprised
her to see the men’s expressions showed no anger. Instead of scowls aimed at her, their brows were creased, mouths pursed tightly as they glared at the soldier. Confusion filled her and she slowly shook her head, trying to understand what was happening.

  “Release her at once, sir,” the apple cart’s owner said to the soldier.

  A chuckle rumbled through the soldier’s chest, but he didn’t let her go.

  Thundering hooves of a horse bore down upon them. Mercedes switched her attention to the man on the steed. The small crowd parted, and the man atop the animal dismounted. His horse had whipped up a cloud of dust in the dingy alley and she waved her hand in front of her face to keep from sneezing. The sight of the rider left her speechless and a bit weak at the knees.

  His rugged appearance shocked her, his strength evident in his muscled arms and legs. Rather than the fancy clothes of the English gentry, the beige shirt and brown leather vest of a farmer’s attire stretched taut across his wide chest, and the black material of his trousers molded to his legs and fit snugly into his black knee-boots. But this man was no farmer. That much appeared evident by the way he carried himself as he strode toward her, his step too confident, too graceful.

  When he neared and she gazed upon his face, her breath caught in her throat. The sun had turned his skin a light brown, and the sureness of his jaw bespoke authority. Chestnut hair tousled by the wind framed his head, and she had a sudden urge to swipe the unruly locks off his forehead.

  He was quite handsome, if she dared admit, and he literally made her lungs stop working. Never had that happened to her from just admiring a man. Looking into his fiery hazel eyes, she swallowed hard.

  He stopped mere inches away, towering over both Mercedes and the soldier like a dark cloud of doom. She leaned her head back to take in his height.

  The handsome man met the soldier’s stare. “Sir, will you kindly remove your hands from my wife?”

  Her jaw dropped. Wife?

  “Correct me, Mr. Braxton, but was your wife not running from you?” The soldier shook his head. “A few hours ago, I had heard that you reported your wife missing. Now here she is caught running. There must be a reason for that.”

  She sucked in her breath. Mr. Braxton? This handsome and very powerful man was William Braxton, her sister’s husband?

  The pulse in her temple grew stronger. She couldn’t speak, and she couldn’t think. Telling him about Kat’s death was crucial, yet she didn’t want to do that in front of all of these spectators.

  If only her mind would work with her tongue and voice, perhaps she wouldn’t feel like a trapped animal. But more importantly, why did she find her brother-in-law dangerously attractive?

  When the man in question settled his eyes on her, his expression softened and a smile touched his mouth. “Yes, my dear. Please inform the captain and all these good people why you were running from me.”

  Chapter Two

  Silence stretched through the crowd as all eyes aimed toward Mercedes. Even the horses seemed remarkably quiet. Panic grew inside her chest like rising dough, suffocating her slowly. They all expected an explanation—one she couldn’t give.

  “My dear.” Mr. Braxton took a step closer. “Will you please clarify why you were running from me?”

  All of this was a mistake. She needed to set the matter straight. Now. Although she assumed Mr. Braxton’s change of attitude was all for show, her heart leapt at the tenderness he displayed. That could be the only reason her mind had gone into a momentary dither.

  She opened her mouth to explain about Kat’s death, but a thought struck her. It was as if heaven had parted a different direction in her mind, washing away all other plans she’d made to confront William Braxton.

  I could portray my sister. No one here knows of her death.

  Obviously, these people didn’t know she was Kat’s twin. This mistake in identity might mean the difference in getting the information she needed about Mr. Braxton. After all, pretending to be his wife would be easier since she’d have free reign of the house—and more freedom to follow him or eavesdrop. Yet what Kat had told her about her husband caused a wave of nausea to roll through Mercedes’ middle. It would be as if she were married to Lord Maxwell all over again.

  The unspoken command to play along with Mr. Braxton loomed in the depths of his eyes. A warning buzzed through her head, commanding her to stop this insane idea of switching roles, but no other choice came to her. It had to be done.

  Her tongue felt enlarged and her mind had turned to mush. “I—I was not running from you. I thought the cart owner was after me.” She switched her attention to the merchant. “A street urchin stole an apple, and I thought you were after me because of it.”

  She glanced at the soldier then pushed away from him. “Thank you, kind sir, for breaking my fall.”

  The soldier shook his head. “But that does not explain why your husband felt the need to report you as a missing wife this morning.”

  She gulped, feeling like her throat had dried considerably within seconds. Think Mercedes… “I had been to New York to visit my ill sister.” She switched her gaze to Mr. Braxton. “Do you not recall me telling you?”

  Braxton released a light laugh. “I do now.” He aimed his attention to the soldier. “I had a temporary loss of memory, but all is well now.” Mr. Braxton’s eyes softened as he met her gaze and held out his elbow. “Are you ready to return home, my dear?”

  Could she be seeing right? He was acting like a gentleman instead of the monster her sister had described.

  “Yes.” She placed a shaky hand in the crook of his well-muscled arm and he led her toward his horse. Another man followed and mounted a horse tethered nearby.

  “Mr. Braxton.” One of the townsmen in the group stepped forward. “Do you still want those chairs delivered to your residence on the morrow?”

  “That will be fine, Mr. Perkins.”

  “Sir.” Another man doffed his tricorne hat. “My Mary wanted me to ask the next time I saw you when you’d be needing more eggs?”

  “I’ll have my cook speak with her.”

  “As you wish, Mr. Braxton.” The man nodded to Mercedes. “A good day to you, Mrs. Braxton.”

  She smiled. “And a good day to you.” Odd, but the townsfolk seemed to respect Kat’s husband.

  Without meeting her eyes, Mr. Braxton placed his large hands around her waist and lifted her onto his horse. Strange sensations flitted in her stomach and spread through her body until he released her. He mounted behind her, draping her legs over one of his. The intimate position had her shivering in a mixture of fear and awareness. Though this was the horrid man her sister had warned her about, a few moments ago she’d detected a softer side. His touch wasn’t as rough as she’d expected when he positioned her on the horse.

  She sneaked a glance over her shoulder to peer into his eyes. These were not the same pair she’d seen a minute ago. Instead, they had turned incredibly cold. Had the monster she’d been warned about returned?

  “Where have you been?” he hissed in a tone low enough so only she could hear. “I have been out of my mind with worry thinking you had been kidnapped…or worse.”

  Finally, Mercedes was able to glimpse the atrocious man Kat had married. Apparently, he was only an angel of mercy in front of his acquaintances. The harshness in his voice caused Mercedes’ limbs to shake. What was he capable of doing in a fit of anger?

  Before she had time to speak, his large arm tightened, holding her against him in a vise-like grip. He wouldn’t abuse her right out in the open, would he?

  “You can explain after we get home. I don’t want to air our disagreement in public.” The sharp tone in his voice made her cringe.

  He reined his horse, turning in the opposite direction of her trunk—and poor Timothy who probably thought she’d been kidnapped.

  “Wait.” She touched Mr. Braxton’s hand. “We have to go back and retrieve my trunk.”

  “Your trunk?”

  “Y
es. It is at the mercantile.”

  He growled but maneuvered the animal around. The other man followed at a distance as they rode the few minutes in silence. Mr. Braxton’s stiffness against her back conveyed his anger.

  Ahead of them, Timothy stood by a wagon, loading her trunk. His skittish gaze roamed the street. The lines around his mouth gave evidence of his concern.

  “Right there.” She pointed in her servant’s direction.

  “Picking them a little older now?” Braxton sneered.

  She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see his curt expression. “Pardon me?”

  “The man. Who is he?”

  “My servant.”

  He arched an eyebrow and shrugged. “Well, nonetheless, he can ride with Gabe.”

  When they neared, Timothy’s gaze lifted to hers and his mouth hung open. His expression darkened as he switched his focus from her to Braxton. She tried communicating to him with her eyes to follow her lead.

  Although under duress, she smiled. “Timothy, I have found Mr. Braxton, my husband I told you about. Can you bring the wagon and follow us home?”

  Brows drawn together, Timothy’s skeptical gaze moved from her to William. Her servant’s mouth opened and shut a few times as if he wanted to speak but didn’t have the words. Mercedes’ heart hammered against her ribs. Hopefully, Timothy wouldn’t ask questions. She couldn’t have her plan ruined so soon. She focused her pleading eyes upon her servant.

  What seemed an eternity passed before he finally nodded. “As you wish, Madame.”

  The man named Gabe dismounted and tied his horse to the wagon. He helped Timothy with her trunk before climbing onto the seat with her servant.

  Mr. Braxton urged the horse forward, and they traveled through the middle of town. People greeted him and he answered in a kind, tender voice, but all were hesitant before addressing her, she noticed.

  The busy section of town disappeared, and Mr. Braxton’s warm breath released on her neck in a heavy sigh. She gazed at his profile as he glanced over his shoulder at the fading town. The slight breeze made his intriguing scent drift to her nose, a mixture of cedar and leather. It roused her senses, and for some odd reason, she was eager to know more of him. Would pretending to be his wife bring back horrid memories of her marriage with Lord Maxwell? Was Mr. Braxton really the monster Kat had warned her about? So far she’d caught glimpses of a totally different man underneath his hard mask of indifference.