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T HE LADY ’ S HEAD LOLLED BACK onto his shoulder after hours of staying alert in the saddle in front of him.

Sir Sebastian sorely regretted taking the lady’s funds, along with the lady, but he had been under strict instructions from the Prince Regent not to be exposed in his mission—the political ramifications would be too great.

However, abduction had never been part of the plan.

Riding with two to a horse slowed the journey considerably, but he couldn’t rightly drop the lady on the side of the road.

He was a knight and, as such, a protector …

despite the fact he was the reason she needed protecting.

But he had not lied. There were far more dangerous things than a ruined reputation, like leaving an unconscious lady in the same stagecoach as Sir Thomas without funds to see her safely home.

And as he couldn’t rightly leave her funds intact without raising suspicions of his true objective, the only way this maiden would arrive to her destination unharmed was to bring her himself …

under the guise of abduction. Not his best idea in his nine and twenty years, but he was committed now.

He paused outside the open gate of a manor along the road to Bristol. Judging from the lack of light flickering in its windows, the staff had retired, along with the owner.

She stirred, her soft moan making him wish he could offer her words of comfort, but seeing as he was her captor, his words would have been fruitless.

Her body tensed, and she shot upright. “W-where are we?”

“Along the road to Bristol.” He leaned into the thick Scottish brogue from his grandmother’s clan that he used while posing as the highwayman. On the off chance he ever ran into Sir Thomas or others he had to visit on behalf of the Prince Regent, he chose to disguise his voice.

“Bristol! B-but I am to be in Bath.” She groaned. “I was nearly there, and now I will be much later returning home.”

“Did you not notice my horse deviating from the road to Bath? Or the change of mileposts?”

“I spent most of the journey in the stagecoach behind a book, and as you well know, was unconscious for a time, and heaven knows that I do not possess an internal compass that all you brigands seem to possess. I honestly had no idea where we were heading.”

“That would explain your compliant behavior. I was wondering why you did not protest. I aim to make the remainder of our journey far more comfortable.” He adjusted in the saddle, and the horse tossed its head. He petted the horse, who released a snort. “Peace, Brigand.”

“Brigand? You named your horse Brigand ?”

“He inspires me.”

She snorted. “To be a man loyal only to himself and his horse?”

He glanced down at her, choosing silence over a lie. “You best remain quiet as well.”

She mumbled an agreement, crossing her arms against the chill of the night.

They approached the stables, where a single lamp burned low, but no one was present.

He crouched in the saddle as they ducked inside.

He hopped off and quickly located a navy livery, which seemed like it would fit somewhat, and a worn-looking gig.

He dug into his pockets and left enough coin to more than compensate for the items he needed.

She lifted her brows at this but said nothing as he reached up for her. His hands grasped her petite waist, and she obediently slid down. He loosened his grip too soon, and she fell against his chest. She pushed away from him, and he caught sight of a pretty blush creeping up her neck.

He grinned at the bloom in her cheeks, reached for the strap, and removed the saddle, stowing it in the gig before hitching Brigand. He dusted off his hands and reached for the livery. “Avert your gaze, my lady.”

Her lips parted, as if ready to ask why, when her eyes landed on the clothes draped over his arm. She swiveled back to the horse. “So that’s how you intend to escort me into Bath—Helios?”

“Helios? I would have thought Hermes was more in line with my work.”

“With hair like the sun, it fits.”

“That is a far sight better than being called Goldie, but I prefer Bash.”

“I will call you Bash if you return my things to me.”

“Call me Bash and I may return your book.” He shoved his leg into the breeches, dressing quickly for fear the owner of the livery might appear at any moment. “In this uniform, I am simply a groom escorting his employer’s daughter about town.”

“That is not scandalous at all. And your mask? How will you explain that away? It is hardly covert.”

“You shall pretend to sleep in the gig while I ride on the horse as a postilion. No one but strangers will see my face. I must change my shirt. Keep your eyes closed,” he said from his place in the shadows.

“My eyes never opened after your first warning!” She fairly pressed her face into Brigand’s side.

Sebastian replaced his black linen shirt before stuffing the clothing into the saddlebags and packing them next to the saddle in the gig. “It is safe now.”

She turned, and he held a hand out to her. “My lady.”

“Bash.” She allowed him to assist her into the gig, tucking herself into the corner, but as the seat was small, it put little distance between them—a fact he found he enjoyed.

He wasted no time getting them as far from the manor as possible.

The gig flew along the road, the moonlight illuminating every divot in the road.

They had four hours left in their journey and two hours of moonlight left.

Brigand was strong, but they could not make the journey without one stop.

He gritted his teeth against the idea of tarnishing her reputation by keeping her out without a guardian, as ludicrous as that worry was at this point, but what other choice did he have?

But if she was alone enough to take a public coach, perhaps no one would miss her if he was swift.

The jostling of the wheel awoke her. Vivienne stiffened. She had vowed not to actually sleep again, merely rest a moment. She cast a glance at him. In dawn’s first rays, she spied his exhaustion in the redness rimming his eyes.

“Where are we?”

“I cannot rightly find us a room to rest while I wear a mask, and as I cannot reveal myself to you for obvious reasons, we shall take shelter here.” He drew the gig to the side of the road and into a grove of trees.

She pressed her lips together, swallowing her protest.

The early morning light splayed through the greenery, casting a reverent glow as he directed them into the thick forest. With every turn of the wheel, her hope of escape sputtered.

She was not skilled like Tess or strong like Muriel …

but she was smart. She had to think of a way out of this situation.

Despite the fact she had foolishly let her guard down by sleeping, he could not stay awake forever.

She would act exhausted and see if he fell asleep, leaving her a chance to run.

It wouldn’t take much to act fatigued after the past few days.

“This should be far enough from the main road. It would not do for us to be discovered, for neither your reputation nor mine, so we are resting for the day. You will be home before dawn tomorrow, my lady. Now, we rest.”

She crossed her arms. He would expect some argument from her over sleeping. “I rested.”

“ I did not.” He climbed down.

“Well, you cannot expect me to actually sleep with you nearby and no longer occupied with directing the horse.” She clambered off the side of the gig, hopping to the ground. Her shins stung at the drop.

“You do not trust me. I am aware, but we have a long wait ahead of us.”

“And you do not think I will escape?” She hoped she wasn’t taking her act too far. If she truly worried him, he might tie her up.

He shrugged, unhitching Brigand and releasing him to range free and take a drink from the creek. “I am a light sleeper, and I know you are not light on your feet in a forest.” He strode away from the gig, leaves crunching underfoot.

She lifted her gaze to the canopy of the lovely forest. If she squinted, she might picture a medieval hero saving his lady love from the evil highwayman.

She hid her smile as she stretched her tender back.

This next novel would be fairly easy to write, as she could draw from her own life.

Her fingers itched for her diary and pencil.

“Are you not afraid of being found out in broad daylight?”

“I know these roads better than most travelers do.” Bash knelt and gathered wood, building it into a neat pyramid and stuffing the inside with dry leaves.

He removed a flint and his blade and methodically scraped it until a spark caught in the underbelly of the stack.

He blew on the flame, encouraging the spark to life.

He sat back on his heels, watching the fire grow.

“We are far enough from the main road that we will not bring curious gazes from bored passengers. We shall appear as a husband and wife taking a reprieve from travel.”

Husband and wife? She had long ago determined she would never marry for any reason except for love …

a preference no one seemed to understand or respect.

She had flirted with gentlemen in the past, of course, but never in earnestness after her writing began to sell.

Some ladies had the good fortune to be heiresses and therefore had many choices in a husband.

She had few, and poor ones at that. After her stepbrother’s first few attempts to match her, she’d decided it was up to her to make her own fortune in life, saving her from the humility of a husband who did not love her.

Her family had taken matters into their hands after her apathetic response to callers, which was when they’d selected the horrid Sir Josiah, who was worthy due to his rank alone.

Thank the Lord I am spared from that cad.

She gritted her teeth, forcing her countenance to remain smooth. She had to wait only until Bash fell asleep before she made her move.