Take My Heart (Heroic Rogues Series) (3 page)

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?”

“Yes. 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.

Mercedes shook away those thoughts. She couldn’t think this way about her brother-in-law even if her sister was dead and buried.

He turned away from the town and looked at her. His hardened expression made the lines across his forehead run together.

Mercedes gulped. He was going to realize she wasn’t Kat. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for his anger.

“Thank you for not making a spectacle back there.” His voice was harsh, yet sincere.

She nodded, holding in the sigh of relief threatening to spill forward. Why had he said such a thing? After all, she’d been the one looking foolish not too long ago, not him.

“I am truly sorry for leaving. I hope I did not worry you.” She spoke in soft tones, wishing to calm his anger.

His brows drew together. “
You
are sorry?”

Trembling, she took a deep breath. Time had come to play the charade…to play the bold woman she’d never been. “Yes. Before I left for New York, I wrote you a letter, informing you of my plans. Do you really remember or were you just saying what you had back there as not to cause a scene?”

“Believe me, there was no such letter.”

She swallowed, moistening her parched throat. “My sister summoned me. She was deathly ill, and I needed to leave quickly.”

His gaze snapped from her to the road. “We shall talk about this when we reach home.”

“Why?” She glanced at the others riding well behind them. “They cannot hear.”

“Because if we wait, I shall have time to cool my temper. I fear what I might say in my present state of mind.”

“As you wish.” He looked down at her. Confusion still marred his dark expression so she continued, “But know I am sorry for causing you any worry.”

He shook his head as if he didn’t understand. “Please, cease your prattle until we arrive home. You are confusing me.”

He’d just shown clear evidence he was the ogre Kat had warned her about. The man seemed intent on a quarrel, refusing to accept her most heartfelt, if not completely honest, apologies. Instead of prodding him with questions, she kept her mouth closed and stared at the road ahead.

After a moment of silence, he grumbled. “What ails you now?”