Page 15 of Escape of the Highwayman (Escape #3)

J on woke to tender hands on his face, at once caressing and urgent, pushing the hair back from his forehead and cheek.

The hands belonged to her . He knew her touch, her scent, her very presence keeping at bay the panic that had threatened to consume him.

For a moment, he simply wallowed in that, grasping her nearness, her care, like a lifeline.

Until her anxiety broke through his selfish passivity, and he forced his eyes open to take in the world.

It was not hard. Her gentle beauty was a joy, a wonder, and he felt himself falling into the unknown in a much more pleasant—and yet still terrifying—way than when he had slipped off the step ladder.

“Don’t look so worried,” he said lightly. “I only fell asleep.”

“But your face is wet. Has the fever come back?”

No, I weep in my dreams. I am that pathetic . “Oh, no. The blanket was too hot.”

Her hands fell away, and he missed them. He hauled himself into a sitting position.

“Your shoulder is sore again,” she said, too observantly.

“Ah. Well, I was trying the ladder out and my foot slipped.” Then he was angry at himself for worrying her, because she insisted on examining the wound again. Despite looking a little angry, the stitches remained miraculously intact. She had clearly made a good job of that too.

“I have been wondering,” she said eagerly, while bandaging him up again, “how we might fool the law into believing in your innocence. What we need is a guilty highwayman who can be blamed for your deeds too. One who is already caught, I mean. Only I can’t quite see how to do that yet.

Or indeed find the right man, because we can’t just pick some innocent stranger. ”

He regarded her with some fascination. “No, we can’t,” he agreed. “In fact, it seems quite a dirty trick to play on any man.”

“Well, he can only hang once, however many crimes he commits.”

“There is that. How was your expedition?”

“Interesting. There was some talk of going to Ellscombe House for tea afterward, but I was quite glad when Beatrice vetoed the idea and decided we should come home. I brought you some sandwiches and a cake, by the way. Cook is wondering at my appetite...”

She leaned away from him again to admire her handywork with the bandage and he dragged his loose shirt back up over his shoulder.

She caught and held his eyes. “Don’t try the ladder again unless I am there to watch and help. Have you damaged your leg?”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe so.” Odd that he could answer so honestly, and so easily. Even odder that he did not mind the question. Not from her. And yet he had treated his family abominably for less... “I am not a good patient,” he said ruefully. “I don’t normally like to be fussed over.”

“Am I fussing?”

He smiled. “If you are, I like your fuss.” And he should not be flirting with his saviour.

That he found it irresistible was no excuse, but he loved the way the heat stole into her cheeks.

.. In recompense, he added, “I behaved badly to my family. I hated that I needed their care, and then to prove I didn’t, I just went off by myself. I hardly ever even write.”

“They will understand. And you can make things right again.”

He wished he could, but all the same, he liked her optimism. “Perhaps.”

“Do you have siblings?” she asked.

“Two brothers. They disapproved of me buying my colours in the first place.”

“They probably just wanted you to stay at home with them.”

“Robert lectured me on duty to the family. I lectured him on duty to king and country. We must have sounded like pompous asses.”

“Is he older than you?”

“Younger, though you would never notice it.”

“Did you miss them when you went to war?”

“Yes.” He swallowed the lump that had risen into his throat. He still missed them. And now he could not see a way back without disgracing the entire family. But Chloe was looking for solutions. He should be doing the same.

“I even miss the war,” be blurted. “I was good at it. And there is a friendship, a comradeship beyond what is usual in civilian life.”

“Is that why you decided to take your men in hand as highwaymen?”

“Maybe. Partly. Mostly, I was angry at the injustice. No one cared for them.” He shrugged his good shoulder. “It is no defence in the law.”

“No...” She was frowning, and even that looked adorable to him. “But the enforcers of the law are individuals. Like Mr. Dunwoody.”

“And my own father.” But there was no point in dwelling on that unless he could come up with a solution. He turned to Chloe’s problems. “Did Mr. Black propose marriage to you?”

“Actually, I have reason to think he might really have gone off me,” she said.

“And returned to the fair Laura?”

“Not exactly. I think he was making business decisions concerning us. Marriage is a business to most people, after all. It is not really a matter of love and fairytales and happily ever after, is it?”

“I don’t know. I have never been married. But I would not say love has nothing to do with it.” He picked up a sandwich from the plate she had brought him. “For example, given the choice, you would only marry for love.”

“Viscounts’ daughters are not always given that luxury. And everyone knows I am likely to fall in love with somebody entirely unsuitable.” For no reason, her colour grew warmer again, and his heart beat faster, for he longed to be than unsuitable man. But even he was not that big a cad.

She was listening, her head to one side. “I think the lads are cleaning the tack. But our horses are groomed and back in their field. Would you care for a very quiet game of snap before I have to go?”

***

T HE FOLLOWING MORNING , Chloe woke up with her heart singing.

She had spent most of the previous evening with Jon, playing cards occasionally, but mostly talking, and for some reason that made her happy.

She looked forward to the day with eagerness, just because he was there.

She had never had a friend before who seemed to match her in both humour and thought.

And they understood each other. Though his experience of life was so much wider and so different to hers, she saw instinctively how he had got into his problematic position, and how he felt about it.

He was suffering and not just physically. But he would never give in. He was a man with shattered dreams of his own, but he never laughed at hers. He listened. As she loved to listen to him...

And yet he had risked life and limb by trying to leave.

She understood the decision was driven by honour and while it terrified her, it confirmed her opinion of his true character.

He was a good man who had made some bad decisions through frustration, pity, and mostly righteous anger. Like her, he just needed a friend...

Even though it was so early, she could not stay in bed.

She rose and dressed hastily in her old walking dress before going out to visit the horses in the paddock.

Her original goal had been the kennels, since she hadn’t seen the dogs yesterday, but at sight of her, they would set up a mad racket and wake everyone.

So she strolled up to the field in the promising light of dawn when everything seemed possible. She was thinking about the best time to raid the kitchen for Jon’s breakfast when she had the oddest feeling of unease that something was wrong.

She walked faster, wondering what concerned her. She picked out her own mare, enjoying some grass with Papa’s favourite hack, and then she saw the stranger.

None of the horses were missing. They had acquired an extra one.

“Where on earth did you come from?” She hurried forward and climbed between the wooden bars of the fence. The family horses paid her little attention, too sleepy, or too busy munching to have the time, but the stranger in their midst raised its head and regarded her. A large, dappled grey.

She slowed, approaching the horse with a calmness she did not feel.

It watched her for a little, then took a few steps as though coming to meet her. Its nostrils twitched and flared.

“Cavalo?” she said in disbelief. For surely, it could not be Jon’s horse. How on earth had it got here? Had someone caught it? Was the net closing in on Jon?

When she halted a few feet away, the horse took the extra step toward her and blew down his nose. She raised her hand slowly and stroked his long nose, his neck, gave him a scratch behind his ears. He nudged her shoulder.

If the constables had found Cavalo, they would have taken him to Mr. Dunwoody, she realized. And if the Lessing grooms had discovered an unknown horse on their land, they would have stabled it, not put it immediately into the field with their own animals.

No, this had been the horse’s own decision. He had decided to visit. Popping over the fence would have given him no trouble, judging by the way he had jumped at the market...

“Cavalo,” she murmured. “It is you, isn’t it? Are you actually looking for him?”

Cavalo snorted.

“But what on earth am I going to do with you? If anybody finds you here...”

And they would. Any time now, the grooms would be up and about, bringing water and food and grooming brushes in case any of the family wanted an early ride. Cavalo could not stay here, but where on earth could she hide him?

At least she didn’t have to entice him toward the halter hung over the gate.

He followed her like a friendly dog and made no objection when she slid the halter over his neck.

She led him out of the gate, fastened it behind her and circled the long way around to the outbuilding, which was all that remained intact of the old stables.

Once, she had thought of moving Jon himself here as a quieter, safer alternative to the loft, but then he had got ill.

At one point, Cavalo began to pull toward the new stable, almost as if he knew Jon was in there. But at least he didn’t drag her off her feet but allowed her to coax him onward.