Page 4

He spread out a thin blanket beside the fire. “Would you like to rest on the blanket?”

“I’m fine where I am, thank you.” She planted her feet beside the tree trunk.

She felt much more secure with her back to the bark and the metal at her thigh that Tess had secured in a leather harness for protection.

It had been impossible to get to while atop the horse.

If it came to it, she would defend herself at whatever cost. But despite her fears, she knew Bash would not harm her.

This handsome thief held a strange code of honor, and she felt more at ease with him than she did in that public coach …

Which is why I need to run as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

He reached into the saddlebags and withdrew a loaf of bread that he cracked in half. She winced at the stale fare. He tossed her a half as he sprawled on the blanket, his hand behind his head.

Even if he was a thief, he possessed a thoughtful heart to feed her. She rapped her knuckles against it. He may as well have handed her a branch to nibble on.

He grimaced as he bit into it. “If you imagine it is toast, it isn’t so bad.”

She chewed at the edges. “And if you close your eyes, I have no doubt butter would appear on it as well.” She laughed and surrendered the endeavor after a few bites that endangered her perfect teeth.

She tossed the bread back to him and dusted off her hands.

“What enticed you to a life of thieving?”

He tucked the bread back into the bag and returned to relaxing, eyes closed. “I did not start out to thieve. I wished to lead a noble life, one filled with purpose as a knight of the Crown.”

If she had been eating, she would have choked. “Yet here you are—a highwayman is about as far as you can get from a knight.”

“Here I am. However, I do intend to remain noble.” His thick lashes flickered open. “You need not fear on my account. You are safer with me than that Sir Thomas.”

“Forgive me if I do not believe you.” She had pushed out the words she thought he expected. It had to be the lack of food that was making this highwayman seem more noble than the fleshy, all too inquisitive Sir Thomas.

At a sharp cough, they both started. Three children watched them from the trees. They were clean, but their clothes hung on their thin frames, as if they had not eaten in days. Their eyes widened at his mask.

He slowly rolled to sitting and lifted both his hands.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he repeated to them.

He reached into his pocket and tossed them each a crown, no doubt from Sir Thomas’s purse.

“Fetch us four loaves and a hunk of cheese at the village. If you do and remain silent about our presence here, you may keep the remaining amount along with a guinea in my thanks.”

They nodded, eagerness and ravenous hunger making their eyes wild as they scampered through the forest to do his bidding.

“You are giving them the money?” Vivienne crossed her arms, her golden braid spilling over one shoulder. “Or are you so cruel as to give them hope and then rob them of it the moment they return? It does not do you well to take advantage of the desperate, even if you are only a common highwayman.”

“I am neither cruel nor common. As I told you, I am a man of honor, whether you believe me or not.”

“Time will tell. But if you deceive these children, you are deceiving yourself.” She slunk down to the base of the tree and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep but waiting for his steady breathing to alert her.

It seemed to take forever until she was confident, judging from his heavy breathing, that he was asleep.

She rose, keeping her attention on him all the while.

She stepped over the tree roots and bolted into the woods, not caring where it took her, as long as she was away from him.

She pumped her arms, her side burning. She stretched her legs, imagining she was at that darling country cottage outside of Bath where no rules of etiquette applied—where she had spent her June months running through the woods or driving her pony cart across the green, as her father cared little for rules regarding what was too boyish for a girl to do while he was yet unmarried and only wanted to let a cottage and fish during the end of the busy season in Bath.

“My lady!”

She bit back a cry and ran faster, her hair pulling loose and drifting behind her in a torrential cloud of tangles.

She spied a fallen log in her direct path.

She could do it. She sprang and leapt over the log, her foot landing on a curled adder.

It hissed, and she couldn’t keep her scream inside as it lunged at her, fangs bared, aiming for her calf as a blade flipped through the air and pinned it to the ground.

Bash balanced on the log, panting. He bent and withdrew another knife from his boot and flicked it, ending the threat.

Trembling, she turned her eyes from the blood and lurched back.

She twisted to catch herself. Her knee struck a root, the sudden, sharp pain bringing a bout of nausea.

She closed her eyes against the stars lining her vision and against the throbbing.

She felt herself caught in strong and, oddly, comforting arms.

“It’s well. The snake is dead, my lady.”

She put pressure on her knee, gasping from the agony. How on earth am I to escape now? His hand gripped her elbow. Her lashes fluttered open. The concern in his eyes touched her even though he had been the reason for her running through the woods.

“You’re hurt.”

“I only need a moment to collect myself and breathe through the pain.” She shrugged him off and took a step, stumbling.

“You cannot possibly walk all the way back to camp on an injured knee.” He swept her into his arms, the action drawing her arms about his neck.

Realizing protesting against her captor turned hero would do little good, she rested her head on his broad shoulder and huffed a bracing breath.

Of course he smells divine even after a race through the woods. She groaned.

“Does it hurt that bad? You may need to wrap it. I would do it myself, but I think you would consider it a grave impertinence.”

“I would indeed, but if you have something I can use, I’ll bandage it, because there’s a little blood seeping through my once-favorite gown. I fear the only way to save my gown now is to burn it.”

He cradled her until they reached the fire, and even then he held her as she trembled, slowly releasing her to rest on the blanket while he rummaged through his bags to retrieve a rolled length of gauze.

He tossed it to her, turning his back to her.

“You can either rip the bandage with your teeth, or I will cut the ends with my knife, as I cannot trust you with a weapon, given our first conversation.”

“I shall see to it.” She had no choice but to lift her skirts above her right knee, gritting her teeth against the gash.

The root had torn through her stocking, and bits of dirt clung to the wound.

She would need to have it cleaned soon, but for now she wrapped the gauze about it, using Tess’s knife to slice off the edge.

She returned the knife and her gown to rights.

She studied the man’s strong back, attempting to put it to memory.

The moment she had her journal, she would take down his likeness from all angles.

He would be behind bars before spending a copper of her money.

But it would be a pity for the handsome, noble thief to rot in some cell.

She sighed. He should have thought of that before turning to a life of crime. “You may turn now.”

He sank down at the base of a tree and crossed his arms and legs. “As you are unable to hobble away, I shall take this opportunity to sleep.”

“And while you sleep, may I entertain myself with writing in my diary?” She widened her eyes, hoping to convey an innocent look. “With my knee injured, you can sleep in peace if I am entertained and, therefore, quiet.”

His lips quirked in a half smile. “I shall not deprive a maiden of such an innocent pastime.” He reached into his vest and lifted out her precious leather-bound notebook.

Her heart pounded as he flipped it open to the first page. “No! How dare you read my private—”

“‘Belonging to Evie.’” He grinned. “At last I may call you anything but ‘my lady.’” He brought it over to her with her stub of a pencil. “Write favorably of me, Miss Evie.”

“No one calls me that anymore. That was what my father called me.” She frowned and snatched them away from him.

“To you, I preferred being called ‘my lady.’” She flipped her book open to the first blank page and did not wait for him to return to the tree before writing furiously away.

The moment he was asleep, she would sketch him.

She scribbled, the story taking her away until at last she heard his deepened breathing.

She flipped the page and worked on sketching what she imagined to be his fine Grecian nose, followed by a sharp jawline that she was certain he possessed, and his bright eyes.

She was just adding the tiny flecks to them when rustling leaves woke him. She snapped the book shut.

The children returned, each carrying something—a loaf, a jug, a wedge of cheese, and some muffins.

He stirred, smiling as he awoke to the fare. “Well done, my friends. What wonderful treats you have brought us.” He tossed them each another coin that they caught with grimy hands, their grins spreading.

Her jaw nearly dropped that he kept his word.

“Go with God, and tell no one where you found the gold. Better yet, hide it and take out only a small sum at a time, saving the guinea for last.”

They scattered into the woods, as if frightened he would change his mind, and she did not blame them.

Bash sat atop her blanket, tore the loaf, and offered her a piece.

It was still warm and possessed a lovely crunch when she squeezed it.

She inhaled it. She had not eaten since beginning this misadventure.

“Why is no one looking for you?” Bash asked as he cut off a piece of cheese and handed it to her, their fingers brushing.

“Why would you assume that?” She stuffed cheese into her mouth to gain enough time to formulate a question of her own.

“In our time together, you have not spoken of your family.” He popped in a bite of cheese. “Or threatened me with a relative seeking revenge on your behalf, or even an offer of a ransom.”

Seeing his kindness with the children had shifted something in her heart toward this man.

He did follow a code, and he had never touched her in a way that caused her to fear.

When he’d saved her from that adder, she had felt wholly safe for the first time in years.

The ones who were supposed to love her, protect her, only wanted things from her—massive things, like marrying an unfaithful potato of a man.

For years, she had been her nephews’ governess without pay, and now that they were finally old enough to be sent to school, she was no longer of use to the family.

The first thing they did was send her a note and present her with an engagement to Sir Josiah, furthering her stepbrother’s objectives while crippling any hope of escape.

Would it be wrong to trust this noble highwayman with the truth?

She swallowed her mouthful. What did she have to lose?

“Because I am reckless and desperate.”

His brows rose, obviously not expecting her honesty.

“I’m running from a marriage that would only benefit my stepbrother.”

He blinked, and if she wasn’t looking so closely, she might have missed the chastened expression beneath his mask.

“And here I’ve taken your funds.”

“Feeling guilty? I’ll happily take my funds back.” She flipped open her hand and wiggled her fingers. “With interest for the trouble I’ve been put through, please.”

He laughed. “I can only afford to be honorable in my treatment of you—otherwise, the other highwaymen might take away my club membership to the Highwaymen’s Guild.”