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It took little more than a half an hour to arrive at Barrett’s tavern. The windows were dark, informing him that David and

Nan were already abed. But he didn’t need them to be awake in order to serve as witnesses to cement this blackmail. He’d tell

all come morning, after he returned Miss Hartley.

Then Nan would likely give him an earful. And he’d simply tell her that he had no choice.

He was doing this for all their sakes, not just his own.

Jasper left Mr. Pitt to see to the horses and carriage as he escorted Miss Hartley in through the kitchen door at the back.

Lying in front of the hearth, Garmr lifted his head, his tail swishing across the stone floor at the sight of him. Then he

sniffed the air and leapt up, his body poised to guard and protect his master from the new smell.

“Good, Garmr,” he said and brought Miss Hartley out from behind him. “Now, guard.”

The wolf growled and stood at attention. Jasper gave a cursory glance to his prisoner to ensure she wasn’t too frightened,

only to see her roll her eyes at him.

“Is this truly necessary?”

“You said you were hungry, but I’m not about to turn my back on you to find something for you to eat. Garmr will keep you

in line.”

Standing there in his greatcoat, she set her hands on her hips. “Oh, he will, will he?”

He ignored the challenging arch of her brow and the smirk on her lips as he stepped into the larder to grab a loaf of bread.

Coming back into the kitchen a minute later, he stopped midstride. His vicious guardian was on his back, exposing his belly

as she kneeled on the floor to give him a thorough scratch.

“Who’s a big handsome boy?” she crooned. “You are. Oooh, such a cuddly ferocious beast, too. Yes, you are. Don’t let anyone

tell you differently.”

Garmr’s tongue lolled off to the side as he panted in pure bliss.

Jasper expelled a heavy breath and walked to the trestle table. “I see you are able to tame both man and beast.”

“Not all men.”

He scoffed, then went back into the larder. His prisoner might want more than just a ration of bread.

But as he stood contemplating the baskets of vegetables, jars of compotes and various meats, he heard noises from the kitchen.

So, he tucked a wedge of cheese beneath one arm, a pot of jam under the other, grabbed a platter of ham, then returned.

Once again, he stopped, his feet rooted to the floor as he took in the sight before him.

He’d stepped away for two minutes. Two! Only to find Roly in his nightshirt, giggling at the way Garmr put his paw in Miss Hartley’s hand when she said, “Shake.”

“A right solid gentleman, he is, shaking our hands.”

She agreed with a nod. “He is quite the intelligent fellow. Aren’t you, boy?”

In response, Garmr licked her cheek.

Roly giggled again, his grin reaching all the way to his ears. “He likes you. Thumper’s never like this with outsiders.”

“Thumper?”

“See the way he thumps his leg when you scratch him behind the ears, just like—”

“His name is Garmr.” Jasper set down the carving board of ham with a whack on the table. “And shouldn’t you be in bed?”

The boy stood, his hair sticking up on one side as he cast a ravenous glance over the food. “Heard someone rustling about.

Thought I’d make sure ’tweren’t bandits and such.”

He was about to order the boy back to bed until Miss Hartley stood beside Roly and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“That was very brave of you,” she said. “I think that deserves a glass of milk before you go back to bed. Don’t you, St. James?”

“ Man , beast and boy ,” he muttered under his breath. Swiping up an earthenware cup, he slapped a few glugs of milk into it, then held it out.

“There you are, Roland the Brave. Now off to bed, hmm?”

The boy gulped down the milk so fast that he belched, and grinned proudly at the sound he made. Wiping off the lingering line

of milk along his upper lip, he turned back to her. “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

“I don’t believe so. But it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Roland.” She extended her hand and they

shook.

“And you, Miss Hartley.”

Her brow furrowed in perplexity. “How did you know my name?”

The boy was halfway through the door when he tossed over his shoulder, “You’re the only girl he ever talks about.”

Her eyebrows inched slyly toward her hairline as she fixed her attention on Jasper.

Ignoring the uncomfortable warmth creeping along his neck, he busied himself with preparing her a plate. “There’s water in the pitcher by the basin if you feel like washing up. I imagine you’re covered in dog fur.”

“Thank you, I will. Though, your coat took the brunt of the fur. I’m afraid it will need to be brushed,” she said as she slipped

out of it and lifted it onto a hook.

But on her way to the sink, she passed in front of the fire, the light revealing the shadowy outline of her body.

It was only a glimpse, taking no longer than two graceful passing steps, but the vision of her high, pert breasts, soft belly

and amply rounded bottom made his tongue grow thick. And not only his tongue.

He shut his eyes.

“Best take care, St. James. I don’t particularly want any of your finger with my ham.”

His eyes flew open to see her walking toward him, drying her hands on a square of flannel, her lips curving in a grin.

“Perhaps you don’t deserve any ham for the way you’ve undermined my authority.”

“Such a curmudgeon,” she chided, dipping her finger into the jam pot and sucking it off the tip. “Mmm... this is delicious.

Have you ever noticed that when you’re ravenous everything tastes extraordinarily good?”

Jasper knew she was speaking. He recognized the sounds by the way the consonants and vowels connected to form words. The only

problem was, he forgot what words were.

Most of the blood in his brain had descended en masse to southern climes. And the small amount that remained in his skull was busy conjuring a vision of painting her entire body

with jam then slowly licking it off. Very, very slowly.

“Mmm... this cheese is heavenly. St. James? Are you making paper flowers in your mind? Is that what happens when you look

at me and your eyes go dark?”

He blinked. Glancing down, he realized that he still had the knife poised above the ham. Clearing his throat, he made the first cut.

Tired, that’s all he was. Just tired.

“Have you always had a way with animals?” he asked, diverting the topic.

“Usually,” she said, dipping a sliver of cheese into the jam pot. “Or rather, until I try to bring them into the drawing room.

The pigs still don’t trust me. Neither do the ducks for that matter. And don’t ask about the chickens. But the Queen’s council

are far more understanding when I need to dress them in neckcloths to stand in for footmen in a play.”

“The Queen’s council?”

“Barrister and Serjeant at Arms. My father’s Irish wolfhounds,” she said, absently nibbling on her cheese. “But don’t think

it escaped my notice that you haven’t answered any of my questions.”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand which questions. “No, I wasn’t making paper flowers in my mind, of all things. I was thinking

about”—he took a breath, briefly deliberated, and decided to be honest, mostly —“jam.”

“Then you must be ravenous, too.”

She had no idea. And never would, he reminded himself.

“Here. Eat,” he said handing her a plate. “I would prefer to catch some sleep before I return you.”

He had a sense that this night was going to take a good deal out of him.

The thought was confirmed as he watched her stack the cheese and ham on the jam-slathered bread and fold it in half before

lifting it to her mouth.

She frowned. “You’ve cut the bread too thick. I can’t fit it all.”

He ordered his mind not to take another salacious sojourn.

“Come, come, give it here.” He waved his fingers in an impatient gesture. When she did, he proceeded to cut it into fourths,

essentially creating finger sandwiches. “There.”

She beamed at him as if he’d just invented food. “Brilliant.”

Then she proceeded to eat one— one! —before pushing the plate away with a grunt as if she’d eaten an entire hog. “That was positively scrumptious.”

“That’s it?”

“Couldn’t eat another bite.”

“You claimed you were ravenous and that’s all you’re eating?”

She stared at him as if he was the one not making sense. “Yes. I was ravenous, and now I’m sleepy. Don’t look at me that way. You’re the one who chose to kidnap me.”

Jasper opened his mouth to reply, then decided against it. This had already been an immensely long night and he hadn’t even

shown her to their room yet.

***

Thea didn’t know why St. James was so cross. She was the one here under duress. Well... mostly.

Truth be told, as he led her through the dark tavern and up a narrow set of stairs, she was more curious than anything. This

was the biggest adventure she’d ever had.

Just imagine, being kidnapped by a highwayman! What a play that would make! And she was determined to absorb every detail.

He opened a door at the end of the hall and waited for her to precede him. Absently, she noticed that he hadn’t touched her

since he’d handed her down from his carriage. In fact, he’d hardly even looked at her for more than a minute, his expression

hard as etched stone.

Was he really so angry with her for having figured out his ruse? If he took a moment to learn anything about her character,

he would know that she could keep a secret. Even one as juicy as this.

She stopped in the center of the snug lodging room. It was sparsely furnished with a spindled washstand in the corner, a sturdy wooden chair and side table by the stone hearth, a low chest of drawers by the door, and a small bed pushed against the far wall. But it was also clean and tidy.

With the addition of the faded frilled curtains, patchwork coverlet and the glow of a warm crackling fire, it might have felt

cozy... if it wasn’t her prison cell.

Though, reluctantly she had to admit that St. James made quite the dashing gaoler, garbed all in black from neckcloth to top