Page 5

B ASH PULLED BACK THE RIBBONS as the gig approached the outskirts of Bristol, the moonlight offering a glow upon the town.

He shook out his stiff hands and looked to the sweet lady beside him.

By chance they were thrown together, and despite his wish to remain focused on his mission, he could not help but be drawn to her.

Perhaps it was the knighthood flowing through his veins that moved him to chivalrous acts.

The last knight had been his great-grandfather, but before him, the Larkby name had held the rank of honor and service to the Crown.

Bash would see his mission through, and then he would see to it that this woman, who had begun to trust him, was protected.

Evie stirred and, with a gasp, sat up, blinking.

“W-why did you stop? Are we not going into the city?” She whipped toward him.

“Surely we are not going to take yet another rest in the woods, since I disturbed your sleep?” She rubbed her eyes, groaning.

“Despite my best efforts, I keep falling asleep.”

He grinned, knowing she was thinking of the spider that had crawled onto her pages and sent her to screaming, waking him. “I need to assume the position atop the horse, where you will not see my unmasked face and no one will suspect a thing of a man in livery driving a lady.”

She smirked. “Do you not trust me enough to remove your mask after all we have been through?”

“It is not a matter of trust but of taking proper precautions for your sake as well as mine. If you are questioned, you will not be forced to lie on my account.”

Her pretty lips turned down. “And why would I lie to save you?”

He reached out and brushed a curl from her face. “Because you are fond of me, my lady. You just don’t know it yet.”

She snorted. “Fond of the man who stole from me? You may be the most handsome man I have ever encountered, but you are delusional if you think that I hold you in any kind of regard—but I shouldn’t be that surprised for a highwayman who claims to hold to a code.”

“You think me handsome?”

She blew out her cheeks and crossed her arms. “You’re incorrigible. That’s what.”

He chuckled, hopped out of the gig, and climbed onto Brigand, tugging off his mask and pocketing it.

He directed the gig through the streets until he paused at the ramshackle house of a former Yeoman of the Guard.

He climbed down, keeping his face averted from her. “Stay here and keep under the blanket.”

“Why? Bristol is quite lovely, and I’ve never witnessed any sort of criminal here, present company excepted.”

“We are not in a decent part of the city. Do not move and draw attention to yourself. If anyone bothers you, scream, and I shall come.”

“I can take care of myself,” she hissed, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nestling under the blanket.

He loathed leaving her outside alone at this time of night, but he had to deliver the letters to his most trusted former member of the Yeoman of the Guard, turned barrister, and he could not afford to have her take note of either of their faces.

He pounded on the flimsy plank door. Telford flung it open, glinting blunderbuss in hand, his black hair blending him into the darkness of the room beyond.

His eyes widened at the sight of Bash, and he swung the door open, motioning him inside with the flared muzzle of his firearm.

Once they had climbed the stairs and shut the second door, Telford broke the silence.

“Another clandestine mission, Larkby? You might as well put me back on the payroll for all the help you have been requiring of me. You know I wanted to retire from service to the Crown, right?”

“And yet there is no other man I trust more than you.”

Telford looped his thumbs in the waistline of his pants, rocking back on his heels. “I’ll be sure to tell Wynn you said so. We’ve had a bet in the book at White’s for years over who you considered your closest friend.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “That is the most ridiculous wager I have ever heard.” He handed the stack of letters to Telford. “See these are placed in the hands of the Prince Regent at once. I will return to my post as soon as I deliver another package.”

“Another package?” His brows rose.

“It’s in the gig.”

Telford moved to the filthy windowpanes, brushing back the thick curtains that could do with a thorough washing. “Does the package happen to come in a lovely form?”

“How do you know? She should be shielded by the roof of the gig.”

“Because she is climbing out of the gig and limping away as fast as she can.”

Bash swore under his breath and raced down the stairs and out the door.

He twisted about, searching for her. She had vanished.

A lady alone would not last a single night out in the streets.

He drew on his mask and closed his eyes, focusing his hearing.

A clatter sounded around the corner. He bolted—daggers drawn and at the ready.

Vivienne stumbled back against the building as two men approached her, the rank contents of their tankards sloshing over their filthy hands due to their uneven gait.

She reached for the blade strapped to her thigh.

The action caused the men to pause long enough to appreciate her shapely limb, calling out phrases that burned her ears.

She flipped the blade over in her hand as she had seen Tess do on multiple occasions and nearly dropped it. She snatched it in the air and nearly sliced her palm. So much for appearing foreboding.

“I love it when they put up a good show,” the shorter of the two drawled, his gaze roving over her muddied pelisse and torn hem.

She gripped the knife in both hands, pointing it at the men. “I suggest you leave me. I do not wish to cause either of you harm, but I will not hesitate to stab you should you refuse my safe passage. If you will excuse me, I will not keep you from your cups.”

“You hear the tongue on her?” The taller snorted, running his hand down his scraggly beard. “Trying to sound like an educated lady, but what lady would be on our streets in a torn hem that shows so much limb?”

They ambled forward, grinning. She lunged and swiped the blade wildly, slicing the tall man’s outstretched forearm.

He growled, dropping his tankard. “The little light-skirts nicked me.” The men’s eyes narrowed, their expressions shifting from lust to anger.

The shorter one’s maniacal grin flashed in the moonlight. “Seems like she needs a little more learning, and we are the ones to teach her.”

Her pulse pounded in her ears, but she kept her stance as Tess had taught her, though the blade trembled in her hand.

Her attackers sprang at her, but instead of her steel meeting flesh, a thunderous roar and a flash of black sent her toppling into the mud.

Her highwayman was between her and the lecherous men.

He slashed his daggers at the men, slicing one in the shoulder and the other across the chest. The two pounced on him, and Bash was forced to drop a blade as he blocked a blow with his palm and struck the other across the jaw.

She scrambled for his dropped dagger. She held it and her blade, which now looked ludicrously trivial compared to the heavy dagger.

The men pressed atop Bash, blocking his face from view.

She started to run for help, but with the two on Bash, he might be overtaken.

She gritted her teeth and aimed for the nearest fiend’s broad back.

She flung Bash’s dagger as she had seen Tess do, and to her shock, it stuck in the man’s calf.

He howled. The injury was just what Bash needed to shove him off and deliver the blow that knocked the uninjured man out.

The injured one clutched his leg as Bash brought down the hilt of his dirk to the back of the man’s head.

Bash turned to her, shoulders heaving as he wiped the blood trailing down his forehead.

Her knees weakened. If it hadn’t been for Bash, God only knew what would have happened to her.

“Evie?” He held out his palm to her, keeping a wary eye on the men.

A sob caught in her throat as she wobbled toward him. He caught her about the waist, catching her dagger as it slipped from her grasp.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice was rough with what sounded like suppressed anger.

“You saved me. You could have let me fend for myself and you chose to save me, no matter the harm to yourself.” No one had done that since her father died. No one had protected her like this highwayman had. Tears trailed down her cheeks.

As if of their own accord, her arms stole up his chest, her fingers grazing the side of his jaw before her hands wrapped about his neck and pulled him down to her, drawing him into a kiss that carried her away from the alley, from the stench of her fiancé, to a place filled with light and hope and …

he didn’t push her away as she half expected but held perfectly still, as if in shock.

What in heavens name was she doing? She was as bad as Muriel!

No, worse. Muriel just proposed to a man and here she was kissing one that was not her intended and never could be!

And you’re still kissing him! She broke the kiss, her world spinning.

Not again! She sank toward the mud. My poor silk pelisse.

The last thing she heard was Bash calling out her name as his arms tightened about her.

It sounded so lovely coming from his lips.

“Evie!”

The two cowards stirred as Bash held the limp Evie in his arms. He gritted his teeth as he laid her in the mud and lifted his remaining dagger to the men, gliding his feet into a ready stance.

They had murder in their eyes as the one with the knife in his calf wrenched it out and tossed it to his partner.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Telford said, aiming his blunderbuss at the men.