Hiding Rose Read online

  Hiding Rose

  Saved by Desire Series

  Book Five

  by

  REBECCA KING

  HIDING ROSE

  By

  Rebecca King

  © Rebecca King 2016

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  SAVED BY DESIRE SERIES

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  HOPELESS HEART

  RECKLESS DESIRE

  OTHER BOOKS BY REBECCA

  Cover design by Melody Simmons

  SAVED BY DESIRE SERIES

  ONE PENNY SURPRISE (BOOK ONE)

  TO CATCH A THIEF (BOOK TWO)

  MISTAKEN IDENTITY (BOOK THREE)

  A SCANDAL MOST DARING (BOOK FOUR)

  HIDING ROSE (BOOK FIVE)

  RECKLESS DESIRE (BOOK SIX)

  THE ARRANGEMENT (BOOK SEVEN)

  HOPE’S SECRET (BOOK EIGHT)

  RUNAWAY GROOM (BOOK NINE)

  MAY THE BEST ROGUE WIN (BOOK TEN)

  CHAPTER ONE

  Rose Higginbotham glanced furtively around the bustling room. As usual, nobody was paying her the slightest bit of attention, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing right now. She needed to be ignored for a few moments. Just in case anybody did happen to glance her way, she used her fan to disguise the calculating look she threw at the doorway that led onto the balcony. If only she could get the chance to use it she would be happy, for a little while at least. Dare she?

  “If only,” she whispered as she studied her nemesis, Mrs Axelby, chatting animatedly only a few steps away. The last thing she wanted was to draw the old lady’s attention and be forced to endure another diatribe about the old woman’s gout. Time was precious.

  “I need to go now,” she muttered beneath her breath as she turned her attention to the other revellers in the tightly packed ballroom.

  As usual the too small room held too many people, food, and harassed looking servants ferrying trays laden with refreshments this way and that. In Rose’s opinion balls and routs were the worst kind of social engagement. They consisted of nothing more than rooms crammed full of people all assessing each other’s clothing, manner, and speech while gossiping about other people’s lives. It was a fete of endurance that tested her to her limits each time she was forced to attend one. If she could get outside, even though the night air was considerably cooler than the stuffy ballroom, it would much better than being stuck inside with people she really didn’t like very much.

  In that moment the crowd parted and gave her a perfect view of her parents. They were deep in conversation with friends of theirs, and oblivious to everything but the depth of their cups. She knew they wouldn’t bother to try to find her, even if she vanished for the remainder of the evening. They never bothered and therefore posed no risk to what she was about to do.

  Satisfied that nobody was even aware she was alive, Rose sauntered casually toward the door. In an attempt to appear as normal as possible, she took one last sip of her Ratafia, and carefully placed her empty glass at the base of a potted palm. Hands free and heart pounding, with one last glance around she opened the door and slithered through the narrow gap. The sense of accomplishment she felt when she met with the cool air was accompanied with a sigh of relief when the din was immediately silenced with the closing of the door behind her.

  A small smile curved her lips. “Thank you, God,” she whispered as she glanced up at the star-lit sky.

  Quickly taking several steps into the darkness, Rose slid her warm hands up and down the now chilled flesh of her upper arms and looked for a darker corner in which to savour what she craved. Although the silence that settled around her was interspersed by the muted hum of noise from within the room, the cacophony was bearable now that she didn’t have to stand within it. It gave her a sense of not being completely isolated.

  Unfortunately, the blissful silence didn’t last long. Only a few moments into her foray, Rose became aware of the distant murmur of voices coming from somewhere on the street below. Annoyed voices, if the increasing volume was anything to go by, began to filter through the night until every word of the conversation overtook the distant buzz from the ballroom. Her initial disgust was quickly replaced with mild curiosity driven by having nothing else to do. Brows lifted, Rose blatantly listened to the brewing argument.

  “I said I don’t know,” a man cried loudly.

  Rose frowned as she studied the shadows on the empty street. It was just like any other street in this rather nondescript town; a mixture of small, narrow houses interspersed with business of all descriptions. This particular street had more businesses on it than most, one of which was a coal merchants located almost directly opposite the Town Hall Rooms where she stood.

  The coal merchant’s yard was the location of the argument now. From her higher vantage point, Rose was able to see inside the small square yard, and watched two large, burly men push a third, smaller, and considerably older man roughly against the wall of a narrow brick house. She read the faded sign above the yard’s entrance: Mr Roger Morley, Coal Merchant. Not being from the area, it was impossible for her to know if the small man was Mr Morley, or someone else.

  Thankfully, none of the men even looked at the balcony to know that she was there. Rose remained perfectly still and watched what was happening. It felt terribly wrong of her to pry into their argument but if she moved now they would see her and the last thing she wanted was to draw their attention.

  “Just finish your argument and go,” she whispered aloud as she rubbed her arms again with increasing vigour, eager to get back inside. She was starting to grow cold, and would soon be frozen if they didn’t get a move on and finish their argument.

  “I told you I don’t,” Mr Morley protested loudly as he clawed at the hand holding the front of his shirt. “I am being honest with you, Jones. I am. Why would I lie?”

  Jones was the wirier of the two men currently threatening the coal merchant. He had a look of roguishness about him that bordered on bullishness, but was not entirely different to his associate. He was a considerably larger gentleman of indeterminable age who stood threateningly in the background. Even from a distance Rose could see that both of the coal merchant’s attackers were nothing more than street thugs. She had to wonder what Mr Morley had done to anger them so much.

  “Please, don’t,” their victim pleaded desperately when Jones dug into his jacket pocket.

  Rose glanced nervously at the door to the ballroom and wondered if she should fetch help, but it was too late. The argument in the yard quickly turned violent. In a quandary to know what to do for the best, Rose remained frozen in place and watched the altercation.

  “I am not,” Mr Morley protested in a placating tone when Jones muttered something. He held his hands out beseechingly, but it had no impact on Jones and his accomplice.

  “You are hiding it from me,” Jones accused loudly.

  “Why would I hide anything from you? We are friends, you know that.” Mr Morley turned pleading eyes toward Jones’ accomplice. “I haven’t been that way for a long time. Why would I go there? How could I hide it? I just don’t have it.”

  “We know you have our money,” Jones shouted. “You are going to give it to us.”
>
  As though realising his loud voice was likely to draw attention, Jones glanced furtively around the yard, looking for anyone who might have overheard. To Rose’s horror his gaze flickered over the balcony. She gasped and instinctively stepped backward, deeper into the shadows. It was foolish really because it was already so dark that she was struggling to see them, there was very little possibility that they could see her. However, when Jones’ gaze seemed to linger on her for a few seconds, Rose knew she was wrong. She glanced nervously down at her pale lemon dress and gasped in dismay at how it stood out in the darkness.

  “On no,” she whispered as panic began to blossom.

  Of course they can see you. You stand out like a beacon even in the shadows, she thought morosely as she studied the pale linen of her lemon ball gown.

  She looked worriedly back at the yard. Even through the darkness, her terrified gaze met the redoubtable Jones’. In a heartbeat, from the very top of her head to the tips of her toes, Rose went cold. She tried to retreat even more from the evilness she sensed in the dark orbs of the man’s eyes but the wall at her back made it was impossible to go anywhere. She was trapped - held firmly in place by Jones’ piercing stare.

  Mr Morley’s sudden yelp shattered the impasse when Jones’ accomplice suddenly stopped his slide toward freedom and slammed him back into place with a heavy fist.

  “Please, just let me go,” Mr Morley whined, and in doing so commanded Jones’ attention once again.

  Slumping with relief when Jones turned his back to her, Rose lifted a trembling hand to her décolletage and shivered. She had never been so scared in her life. She had to get off the balcony, and fast, but found that her legs wouldn’t work. They were shaking so badly that they were not going to hold her upright if she tried to go anywhere. She had to stay where she was even though she now wanted to go back inside so she could get warm again. Thankfully, Jones and his colleague were busy with Mr Morley. This time, the argument began in earnest.

  “I wouldn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t do that. I am not-” Mr Morley was silenced by the heavy fist that landed on his jaw. When he began to slump to the floor, Jones grabbed hold of his shirt and hauled him onto his tip-toes. When Mr Morley’s head lolled to one side, Rose wondered if he had passed out, or something. Jones didn’t seem to care and shook him roughly until Mr Morley lifted his head and looked at him.

  Whatever was said next was so quiet that Rose couldn’t hear anything. An almost expectant silence settled over the night, but was no less sinister than the events across the road. She knew instinctively that whatever took place in the coal merchant’s yard was not going to end well.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” Mr Morley protested as he looked desperately at the ground now several inches beneath his toes.

  “Give them to us and we will let you live,” Jones commanded loudly. “We won’t be double-crossed.”

  “You have nothing on me, and you know it,” Mr Morley cried. “I haven’t got them.”

  Jones muttered something and suddenly released his hold. Morley fell to the ground and staggered a little as he tried to regain his balance.

  “Jones, you are a fool,” Morley snarled. As if drawn by some invisible force, Morley slowly began to straighten until his back was ramrod straight. He turned, ever so slowly, to face Jones. Rose couldn’t see enough of his face to know if he was talking, but watched Morley slowly lift one hand. It was too dark to see, but impossible to ignore the loud blast of gunfire which shattered the silence. She watched on in horror as Jones immediately clutched his chest and slumped to the ground. Morley watched him hit the floor and then brushed absently at what Rose could only surmise were blood splatters on his shirt. The grim smile he levelled on Jones’ accomplice was enough to make the thug back away warily, his own demeanour now turning pleading. He got no further than three feet away when a second shot from the gun stopped his flight and silenced him forever.

  Rose began to whimper as she watched the second man fall. It was the last thing she had expected. When she had suspected the meeting wouldn’t end well, she had anticipated Mr Morley being beaten before the thugs left. She hadn’t believed she would witness not one but two murders, and the supposed victim to be the killer. She put her hands to her lips to stifle her instinctive cry when Morley kicked at Jones’ lifeless body with his boot until the dead man flopped onto his back. When Morley bent over the corpse and began to search through the pockets, Rose took her chance and started to move toward the door.

  Before she took a single step she was propelled backward by a strong arm that appeared out of the darkness and wrapped firmly around her. Her instinctive scream of protest was stifled by the cruel hand that slammed ruthlessly over her lips. To her horror, she was propelled effortlessly into the shadows and held tightly against the solid length of a masculine body. Trembling and fearful for her life, Rose clawed at the gloved hand until it loosened enough for her to breathe. When she did, she sucked in huge gulps of air and watched with wide eyes her assailant move to stand directly in front of her, blocking her view of the yard.

  She glared up at him, trying to remember if she had seen him before but she doubted it. She would never forget those piercing blue eyes or the mop of dark hair atop of the most strikingly handsome face she had ever seen. What did he want with her? Was he with the killer and here to silence her? How long had he been on the balcony? Had he also watched what had just happened to the men across the road?

  “Stand still or he is going to see you,” the man growled.

  Rose froze when the warm rush of his moist breath swept over her cold ear. Quivering, she looked up at him.

  “I am going to remove my hand. Whatever you do, do not scream. Not only will we have everybody out on this balcony and you will be ruined but the killer across the road will see you.” Barnaby tried to ignore the delicate curves nestled so intimately against him as he spoke quietly. He put every ounce of calm reassurance into his muted voice in an attempt not to scare her any more but he could see the fear that lurked in those wonderful eyes of hers. Fear lurked in the gaze she levelled on him, and something else - something considerably more worrying - defiance.

  “Let go of me,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

  Barnaby mentally swore. He knew that if he stepped away from her she would do exactly the opposite to what he had just told her. With little other choice, he removed his hand from her mouth completely and replaced it with his lips.

  Rose’s world ground to a shattering halt. Nothing made sense as she stood within the warmth of his embrace and allowed him the liberty of plundering her lips with his. She should stop him. Of course she should. If only she could get her wayward mind to co-operate then at the first available opportunity she would command him to stop kissing her so distractedly this very instant.

  Or, maybe, in a moment or two.

  This was the first time in her life she had ever been kissed. It was - curious. It was strange in a warm and fuzzy kind of way. Delightful even, and terribly risqué given she had no idea who this man was. It was intriguing in a mesmerising way that made her want more at the same time that every survival instinct she had ever possessed was screaming at her to stop him now before things went too far. She knew she should slap his face and chastise him for taking liberties. She knew she should put some distance between them and seek refuge in the crowd occupying the ballroom. But rather than do any of those things, Rose copied the movements of his lips. She didn’t know this man. She need not ever see him again after this. What was there to lose?

  Nevertheless, she put her hands on his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him stepping too close but it was a token protest at best given that there was already not a breath of air between them. Each time he took a breath she felt his chest press tantalisingly against her. The unusual sensation seemed to draw her deeper into his embrace and left her unable to deny him.

  Barnaby groaned when he tasted strawberries and sweetness that he could only describe as tempting. He forced
himself to ignore what he was doing and focus on the fact that his unprotected back was now facing a gunman, and an angry gunman at that. He could only hope that Chadwick would consider them nothing more than a courting couple enjoying the delights of the darkness of the balcony. If the man chose to take a pot-shot at them because they had been in the vicinity at the time of the murders then there was nothing Barnaby could do, except protect the woman in his arms with his life.

  Well, if you are going to die anywhere it may as well be in a loving woman’s embrace, Barnaby thought ruefully as his lips slid sensuously against the woman’s.

  When everything fell silent in the yard, Barnaby waited for several minutes and then began to contemplate how to deal with his next problem. How on earth he was going to stop kissing such sweet temptation and leave the balcony to go after Chadwick?

  CHAPTER TWO

  This has to stop, Barnaby thought as he tried to ease back only for the woman to slide her fingers into his hair and hold him steady. Groaning at the temerity of the woman he had assumed was an innocent, he focused on what she was doing.

  At first, there was something tentative about the way she returned his kisses. It was almost like she had never been kissed before but, once her initial surprise had faded, she had started to enjoy herself. Too much as it turned out because now she had thrown herself into the situation she seemed startlingly reluctant to stop. He had only been trying to cover Chadwick’s view of her pale dress shining like a beacon in the light. The only thing he had at hand was himself but, to get close to her and force her to allow him near without screaming the place down meant he had to kiss her.