Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

The colonel’s cheek twitched. “I’m not going to die. The imperial family will. Then when I lead the troops to quell Arshun’s little

moband with the church in disgrace, I’ll move into my rightful place.”

“Arshun has been arrested. There is no uprising for you to fight.”

The colonel hesitated, but only for a moment. “No matter. The plan will still work.”

“Are you sure?” Olivia asked. “How much time until the bomb—”

A gun fired and a hole appeared in the center of the colonel’s forehead.

His body fell back in an awkward slump.

Clayton spun, expecting Ian. Instead, Golov stepped into the room, a smoking pistol still in his hand. Was he human enough that

killing his brother would affect him? But Clayton didn’t have time to see.

He raced to the bomb, reaching it at the same time as Olivia.

Clayton removed the lid to the box. Shiny clockwork gears hummed and clicked. The gunpowder lay underneath them, impossible to

get to.

“I think this would be a great time for you to evacuate the ballroom, Golov.”

“My loyalty’s to the emperor. Never question that again,” he said behind them, his voice strained.

Olivia tensed as she glanced back at the body of the colonel. His head lay in a growing pool of red.

She pulled away and walked to the window. She yanked down the curtain with a big tug. Then returned to lay it over the general’s

body.

Golov’s cheek twitched once, much as his brother’s had done. “Thank you.”

He turned and hurried from the room.

“You should leave, too,” Clayton said.

“And you should stop the bomb and save us. You saw the bombs at the clockmaker’s workshop, the ones partially built. What did he

add last? Wouldn’t that be the item that set the tension?”

In that instant, he could see the other bombs perfectly in his mind. But he still didn’t know what to remove. There were far too many

gears and moving parts. A flintlock from a pistol sat primed, ready to ignite the powder when sprung. He couldn’t take out the wrong

thing.

“If flint hits steel, the whole thing will explode, right?” Olivia asked. “Then—”

Then he’d just have to see it didn’t.

He ripped off his glove and jammed it under the flint.

The flint swung.

Thud.

No spark.

The gears stopped spinning.

With the breath resuming motion in his lungs, he yanked the entire clockwork from the box and tossed it aside.

“Nice choice. I was about to do this.”

He barely dodged the curtain of water that hit the box, flooding the powder.

“Brilliant girl.” He scooped her in his arms and trailed his lips down her throat until he found the rapid flicker of her heartbeat. He

placed a kiss there. Then another.

Ian stuck his head in the room. “The grand duchess wanted to know who ruined her birthday. I made sure to tell her it was Golov.”

Kate was at his side. “And the empress is none too glad that the grand duchess is upset.”

Golov would have some interesting things to contend with in the next few weeks then. The least of which would be his grief over his

brother. Strange, strange world. “The colonel claimed to know who was betraying us. He said it was someone regal,” Clayton said.

Ian stilled. “Interesting. Very.” Then he relaxed. He’d filed away the information wherever it fit in his endless stores of data.

“Can you two get home on your own?” Clayton asked.

“Why? What is wrong with my sledge?” Kate asked suspiciously.

Ian took her arm. “Trust me. You won’t want to know the answer to that question.”

Clayton caught Olivia’s hand and pulled her out of the parlor and into the now-empty corridor.

For a moment, they just stood there. Hand in hand. Alive. Breathing.

The corridor was plain. Simple parquet floors. White walls.

Not romantic in the slightest. But he refused to risk never having this moment.

He dropped to one knee.

She stared at him, her lips parted. At least he could claim to have surprised her.

“Olivia, will you do me the honor of becoming my entirely too beautiful, brave, and good wife?”

She grinned at him, but she was also blinking furiously. “I already agreed. But I’ll do it again. Yes.” She tugged him to his feet and

kissed the corner of his mouth. “And in case you decide you must ask me still another time—yes, again.”

He whirled her around until they were both dizzy and laughing. He kissed the wing of her eyebrow. The thin ridge of her nose. Then

finally, her glorious lips. Then he had to kiss those again.

After a long moment, he lifted his lips again. “But promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll run if you’re ever confronted with another bomb.”

She grinned at him and cupped his cheek. “Sorry, but nothing will ever make me leave your side.”





Epilogue


Olivia sorted through the mail the butler had delivered as she walked into the library. The first was a short, elegant card announcing

the arrival of Princess Katya Petrovna to London. Penned at the bottom was a handwritten note from Kate with her plans to visit on

her way to Wales.

Olivia’s hand froze on the next envelope. The letter from her solicitor. This was it then. The official end of the mill. At least of it being

her mill. When they’d returned to England, Clayton had helped her secure permission from the courts to act on her father’s behalf.

Then she’d ordered the mill sold. Someone else would take over the responsibility for the workers. With a portion of the money from

the sale, she’d fund the Society for the Humane Treatment of Child Criminals. The rest would go to the vicar to help the local

families.

Clayton looked up from the ledgers in front of him. “Remind me again why you convinced me to tell the emperor I wanted Arshun’s

lands as my reward for saving his life. Again.”

She walked behind him and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I thought you needed something more than camels in Siberia.” But she

knew Clayton didn’t truly mind. Blin had been able to return to his family. And without Arshun’s oppression, the land was proving

remarkably productive.

“Are you going to open your letter?”

She nodded, turning the paper in her hands. She’d thought that this moment would be harder, but she’d gained so much more than

she’d given up.

She broke the seal and scanned the contents. She froze, rereading.

She looked up to find Clayton grinning at her.

“You bought the mill?”

“For you. I thought you needed more to occupy that brilliant mind than a husband who adores you.”

She set down the letter on the desk. They would need to figure out the best strategy for diverting business from the Steltham Mill.

And Parliament was thinking of raising the tax on rags again. They’d need to make plans to—

Clayton’s hand slid down her hip.

Tomorrow would be soon enough.

She settled herself in his lap.

“I never want you to doubt that I’m in awe of the woman you’ve become.”

She lifted her lips to his. “I don’t need a mill to know that.”

His kiss was all the proof she needed.