An Unforgettable Rogue by Annette Blair Read Free Book Online Page B

much feared that his worst enemy lived inside him.
    He secured a bedchamber where he and Alex might both freshen up, but as soon as they entered, the great four-poster in its center loomed large, bright and boldly inviting, in counterpoint to the future, which loomed dark, narrow, and depressingly bleak.
    Alex did not love him, Hawk reminded himself, and she deserved better, at any rate. He excused himself and stepped outside on the pretext that she could refresh herself at her leisure and in peace and privacy.
    When she came down, he seated her in the private dining parlor he had secured, and took his turn upstairs. By the time he returned, the future seemed so grim, that any appetite he might once have imagined no longer existed.
    While they waited to be served, Alex caught him up on his sister Rose’s daughters, now his wards, all the while keeping her aversion to his scars from her expression, even in the well-lit parlor, where his every imperfection must appear obtrusive and hideous.
    Beatrix had been four and her sister, Claudia, fifteen, when their widowed mother died of consumption. Among the few remaining members of Hawk’s family—besides his sister-in-law Sabrina and her children—Claude and Bea had been his wards for a year, Alexandra’s for nearly twice as long.
    Alex regaled him with homely tales that revealed just how much she had come to love his nieces, proving he had been right in his decision to go to war. They had been better off with her than they would ever have been with him. If only they could all remain together now that he was back.
    But he owed Alex such a debt of gratitude, the least he could do was set her free.
    “Bea has so vivid an imagination,” Alex said, “that we never know what she will fabricate next. Last month, she told us she was a fairy. And what must we do before every meal but carefully fold her invisible wings for all of ten minutes, so she could sit properly back against her chair to take sustenance. Claudia informed her in exasperation one evening, that everyone knew fairy wings were supposed to fold flat without help, but Bea replied sadly that hers were defective.”
    As the meal progressed, Hawk actually felt the knots ease from his shoulders and the heaviness of dejection lift from his spirits.
    “At one point,” Alex continued. “The imp insisted for weeks that she had been turned into a mermaid, though her tail fin was suspiciously invisible. She reminded us, of course, that mermaids have no need of baths.”
    “Devil take it, you did not allow her to go without bathing for all of that time, did you?”
    “Oh yes, but not without the requisite swims to keep her scales shiny and magical.”
    Guilt halted his laugh somewhere deep in his throat, where it sat like a lump of stone. So many of his comrades had died, and Hawk knew, more than most, how they felt at the last, making mirth impossible to sanction. “You have been a good parent to the girls,” he said. “Thank you.”
    Sometime while they talked, the Inn specialty, turkey and ham pie with Cumberland sauce, Oyster Creams, and assorted savories, had been placed before them hot and well-spiced. The service had been quick, the serving-ware and servers clean, and the ale smooth and dark. And despite himself, Hawk relaxed and ate the entire meal, even the Orange Fool—a dessert recipe likely filched from Boodle’s.
    By the time they were ready to leave, the rain, which had barely begun when they arrived, was coming down in torrents.
    “A good thing we are no more than an hour or so from Devil’s Dyke,” Hawk said, standing beneath the Welsh Harp’s small front overhang, watching their carriage shudder beneath the furor of the windy downpour.
    “With the muddy roads,” Alexandra said. “That hour may very well turn into two or three.”
    “Right. Shall we make a run for it, then?” They dashed toward the carriage, running between the raindrops, as the young Alex used to say.
    After they set off