Iris Johansen - The Magnificent Rogue

The Magnificent Rogue

Iris Johansen

SHE WAS A BEAUTIFUL PAWN IN A GAME OF LOVE AND DEATH

W hen Princess Kathryn Kentyre is snatched from a life of captivity bythe mysterious Black Robert of Craighdhu, she is torn between absolute terrorand soaring hope. He had been chosen to protect her from the dangerssurrounding her, yet the moment he swept her away she knew this rogue of aScottish laird would prove a greater threat than any she faced from herenemies.

HE WAS A WARRIOR-CHIEFTORN BETWEEN DUTY AND DESIRE

S ensuous as sin itself and wild as his native Scottish Highlands, RobertMacDarren had no intention of settling down with one woman. Yet the agreementhe'd struck to keep the peace required he marry the orphaned beauty and bringher back to his castle at Craighdhu for safekeeping. It was to be a marriage inname onlyand only for one year. He never suspected that the meek hostage hehad been promised would prove to be this firebrand of a woman who wouldchallenge his mind, arouse his passion, and lay siege to his heart.

"Where the devil are you going?"

"I wonder if I canhear" She threw open the window and the wild music drifted up to her fromthe glen below. "Yes, I can. Do you?"

"The bagpipes?" Henodded. "Have you suddenly developed a liking for them?"

She nodded dreamily as her gazetraveled over the men, women, and children still moving about in the torchlitglen. "They're part of Craighdhu." She looked at him over hershoulder.

And Robert was all ofCraighdhu. He was the silences and the mysteries, the passions that excited herand the cozy fires that warmed her. She felt a surge of love for him so strongit almost took her breath away. "Can't you see that this is how it shouldbe?"

He didn't answer and she turnedto face him, a touch of defiance in her stance. "I tell you, I was rightto do this."

He smiled slowly and held outhis hand. "Then come and do it again."

He would not admit this passionhe had for her was not a mistake. Well, she mustn't ask for too much. She hadonly begun and already won a great deal tonight.

She smiled happily as shestarted toward him.

This book is dedicated tothe Atlanta Braves, who, through triumph and defeat, alwaysremain the most valiant of magnificent rogues.

January 29, 1587

Sheffield, England

Mermaid!

Kate bolted upright in bed,chest rising and falling as she tried to still the panic tearing through her.

Had she screamed out the word?Dear God, let it not have happened. Yet her throat felt so raw, she knew shehad betrayed herself.

She scrambled back against theheadboard, wiping the tears from her cheeks as her gaze fixed fearfully on thedoor.

If she had screamed, they wouldsoon come. She would hear the footsteps, and then the door would open.

No sound yet. Perhaps she hadnot cried out, and if she had, maybe she had not awakened them. Perhaps Godwould be merciful, and she would be allowed to

Footsteps.

Her eyes shut as terror closedaround her. She braced herself, trying to smother the fear. She would not letthem see her weakness, she thought fiercely. They would deny it, but she knewthey liked to see her afraid. It was a weapon in the battle they waged againsther. She was not usually so lacking in strength, but after the dream she alwaysfelt so frightened and lost that

"Ah, my child. The dream again?"

Her lids flicked open, and shesaw Sebastian Landfield standing in the doorway, illuminated by the singlecandle in the pewter holder he carried. His nightshirt and frayed gray robeclung to his thin body, making it appear frail. His rumpled white hair formed ashining halo about his lined face, and his gray eyes glittered with moisture ashe looked at her. "I prayed it would not come. How it hurts me to see yousuffer."

"I'm not suffering."She couldn't resist the small defiance, though she knew she would pay for it.

He came forward to stand besideher bed and put the candle on the nightstand. "How can you say that whenyou woke us from deep sleep with your torment?" He reached out and gentlytouched a lock of hair on her forehead. "And, look, your thrashing abouthas loosened your hair from your nightcap."

Blast it, she should haveremembered to put on the cap. She carefully avoided darting a guilty glance atthe despised night bonnet she had tossed impatiently on the bedside tablebefore she went to sleep.

Sebastian's glance shifted tothe cap. "It appears suspiciously tidy for having undergone suchpunishment, doesn't it?" He looked back at her. "But I know you wouldnot have disobeyed me and left your hair unconfined. You have been so good oflate."

She quickly changed thesubject. "I'm sorry I disturbed you, sir. I would not have"

"It is no disturbance tobe called to my duty," he interrupted. "It is God's will." Hisfingers traced the path of tears down her cheek. "Though Martha was notoverpleased to have her rest broken."

She wished he would not caressher cheek with those long, cold fingers. It seemed he was touching her more oflate. She turned her head to avoid it. "I will give her my apologies.Where is she?"

"She will be heresoon." He smiled sadly. "And I think you know where I had to sendher."

To the top drawer of thecabinet in the scullery downstairs.

Kate shivered as she visualizedSebastian's stocky wife moving down the steps, a grim smile of pleasure on herface.

"Martha thinks you're tooold to be having these dreams," Sebastian said softly. "She believesit's only pretense, that you woke us out of spite."

She looked at him inbewilderment. "Why would I be so stupid as to do such a thing?"

"Oh, I do not think youwould. Martha is not always clever about people." His hand moved down tocaress her throat. "And sixteen is not such a great age. There is stilltime to chasten and form you. Now why do you suppose you had the dreamtonight?"

She didn't answer.

"Silence? Meekness is avirtue, but I don't think this lack of words is caused by meekness. Tell me ofthe dream. Was it the same?"

He knew it was always the same.She had cursed herself a hundred times for telling him about the mermaid, butshe had only been a child when the dream started. She had not realized howpowerful a weapon it would prove to him.

"Tell me," herepeated softly. "You know it is for the best. Confess your sin, mychild."

She could lie to him and tellhim the dream was not about the mermaid. He might believe her.

Anger flared through her. Shewould not lie. It wasn't fair. He wasn't fair. "You'rewrong. It wasn't a sin." Her voice trembled with rage. "It was only adream. How could a dream be a sin?"

"Ah, here it comes,"he murmured. "Those golden eyes are blazing at me. All my efforts theselong years, and you've learned so little. You pretend docility, but no matterhow I try to tame your bold ways, there comes a time when you turn and rendme."

"Because it's not true! Idid not sin." Did he think she didn't know the difference? Sin was whatshe felt when she wanted to pull his hair out and kick his chicken-thin legs.Sin was what she felt when rage blackened within her at one of Martha'sspiteful remarks.

"I've explained all thisto you before," he said patiently. "Your soul flies free when youslumber and wallows in corruption. Why do you not understand?" He leanedforward, his eyes glittering with the fanaticism of his conviction. "Youknow how sinful you are. How could you not be depraved? You're the seed of a libertineplanted in the womb of the greatest harlot born to man. The only way you may besaved from eternal damnation is through me. Now, confess. You dreamed of themermaid?"

The resistance suddenly seepedout of her. It would do no good to deny it, she thought wearily."Yes."

He relaxed slightly. "Verygood. Now we must determine what led to this sin." His gaze narrowed onher face. "What did you do today?"