by Tamara Gill
He laughed and held the carriage door open. Then with a yank, pulled them apart and escorted her mama to the door. The pistol appeared again and when her mama hesitated at the door he jabbed it into her spine. Her mother refused to move and Alice read the defiance in her stance, but the last thing she wished was for her mother to be hurt. She had lost one parent, she wasn’t ready to lose another.
“Wait in the carriage, Mama. I’ll be quite all right. I promise.”
Her mother finally conceded, and Alice flinched as the carriage door slammed shut. The fiend walked back to her, though perhaps stalked would be a better word, before pulling her behind the carriage and out of her mother’s sight even as she leaned out the window, determined to keep her daughter in view.
He watched Alice for a moment. His eyes, which she’d thought to be black, were in fact, blue with tinges of gray through them. Any other time, Alice would’ve termed them attractive, but today, they were a window into hell.
She started when he leaned toward her. “You are a beauty, Lady Alice.” The whispered words against her ear spread a peculiar warmth through her bones. Alice put it down to her fear and the knowledge that she didn’t know who this man was, nor what he was capable of. She stood still and waited, refusing to say or react in any way, lest it stimulate him to do worse.
“A shame that a woman like you will enter a marriage of convenience. Such delectable flesh should be loved a great deal and pleasurably so.” His hand clasped her shoulder and pushed her against the multitude of parcels tied to the back of the carriage. He leaned in closer than she’d ever allowed a man to do. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman like you under me. Oh how I’d love to partake in mutual pleasure that would ruin you for anyone else.”
Alice swallowed, hating the fact that deep down, her body was reacting to his absurd, scandalous words. She shouldn’t allow him to say such things. She should knock him in the head, but at this moment she didn’t have anything to do the job with, so it was a moot point.
“How do you know me, sir?” she managed to ask, her breath stuck in her lungs, her nerves frayed by the thought of this man atop her, pleasuring her as his words promised. There was something seriously wrong, if such thoughts, instead of being vile, left her wondering what it would feel like. Other than his occupation as a felon, he seemed healthy, the whites of his eyes were clear, not bloodshot or yellow in color. But probably the oddest thing of all was that, although he was robbing them, had already stolen a brooch, and shot at their equipage, he didn’t frighten her.
Not one little bit.
He chuckled, his eyes stealing over her flesh. “I always learn about the people I plan to relieve of their possessions. You are not too angry at me, I hope,” he asked.
Alice raised her brow, knowing by the gleam in his eyes that he was smiling, laughing even.
“Perhaps you will grant me a boon if I do not steal those lovely earbobs you have on.”
“If I give you the earbobs, will you return the brooch?”
“What about,” he said, stepping closer, “you give me a kiss and I’ll think about the trade?”
Alice swallowed as the highwayman’s hand clasped her hip, his fingers flexing against her body. Their eyes met and she was surprised to see his darken with some emotion she didn’t want to delve too deeply in. Who is he? And how did she know, no matter his words, that he would not force her into anything she did not wish to partake in? It was very perplexing.
“Will you not kiss me, my lady?” he mocked, challenging her.
Alice ran her hands over his shoulders and into the dark locks at the nape of his neck. His hair was soft and the scent of lemons wafted in the air. How bizarre for such a man to be clean and fresh smelling. She played into his mocking and gave him the best saucy look she could muster.
“Sir, you don’t know how long I have waited to meet the famous Surrey Bandit, if that is who you are. And if your lips are as tempting as your voice, I would be honored to grant you my favor, but you’ll have to remove the bandanna to do so.”
Alice stepped into him with all the supposed desire she could muster. She suppressed the fear that rose within her that she was playing with the wrong kind of man. For all his desirable eyes and clean body and clothes, he was a highwayman. Ruthless and possibly more dangerous than one supposed. She prayed she’d not mistaken her insight and was not heading down a road of no return.
His lean muscled body touched all the way down the front of hers, and Alice blamed the lack of air entering her lungs on trepidation over what she was about to do, not what he made her feel after only knowing him a few minutes. A thief, no less. Her hands ran down his neck and settled on his shoulders. She leaned forward, so much so, that the man’s breath through the bandanna warmed her lips.
Her attention snapped to his lips when he lifted the cloth away to give him the ability to kiss her. She swallowed, her mouth going dry at the sight of a mouth made for sin. His lips were too perfectly formed to be fair for the opposite sex. How she’d always wanted lips as full as his, if not a little more red in color to tempt the opposite sex to kiss her, which unfortunately had never happened. And now, it looked as if her first kiss would be with a man who was robbing her.
Alice licked her lips and realized her mistake the moment his blue orbs darkened with hunger. Her breath increased and she tried to calm her beating heart, which threatened to jump out of her chest. She wasn’t supposed to want his kiss, but some scandalous part of her wanted it more than anything in her life.
“Kiss me, beautiful.”
Had she been able to, she would melt on the spot, like snow under a summer sun. Oh, that deep, masculine voice was temptation incarnate; it beckoned something wild within her to kiss him and be damned her manners and the expectations foisted on her, due to her heritage. Alice would never know how she tore her attention from his lips.
Instead of leaning forward and taking what they both desperately wanted, she mentally shook herself. She did not want to kiss him. It was the blood rushing through her veins that was making her feel giddy and…whatever else it was that flowed throughout her body. Not the man or the pleasure he tempted her with. Alice steeled herself to do what she must and so, just before their lips met, and with all the might she could yield, Alice lifted her leg and kneed him firmly in the groin.
He fell to the ground, his howls of pain loud in the quiet forest. Alice watched him for all of a second before she turned and ran to the front of the carriage, welcoming the sight of Tony staggering to his feet.
“Tony, get in the coach. I’ll drive.”
“But, my lady—” he stammered.
“No buts. Do as you’re told and now.” Alice climbed quickly up to the box and grabbed the reins. The highwayman was still on the ground clutching himself, and Tony still stared at her with widened eyes. “We haven’t much time. Move! Now, man,” she yelled.
He did as she bid, and she whipped the horses to an immediate canter just as the carriage door slammed shut. With a cloud of dust, she left the fiend where he belonged, on the ground and alone. She cracked the whip over the horse’s ears and frowned as the realization of what she’d done hit her with as much force as she’d hit him. The knee to his groin had been quite hard, perhaps harder than she ought to have done, and a small part of her hoped she hadn’t hurt him too much, for all her anger at his robbing them.
Robber he may be, but he had smelled very nice, like summertime fruits or something. And his breath, when he’d spoken, had not reeked of stale beer or yesterday’s meals, but of mint, fresh and tempting. Had he been a gentleman at a masquerade ball, he would have received the kiss he so willingly wanted to bestow. And no doubt it would have been an enjoyable, delectable few minutes. Her sister Beth had told her of a man’s kiss and Alice had longed to have one, but she drew the line at kissing a highwayman. She would not do it, no matter how much she may have wanted to rile against expectations and live for the moment. Rakes and libertines, such as the fiend on th
e road behind her, were always good at seduction, but were not to be trusted or enjoyed. Ever.
She inwardly sighed. Her life of late seemed one drama after another. Perhaps, she should do as her mother wanted and find a husband of her own.
She checked the horses’ speed as her body rebelled at the notion of being married. If she were married, she would be expected to cater to her husband’s every whim, give him babies and make him happy. Not that she objected to being happy, but only the deepest love would entice her into the marriage state, and all the men she’d met so far, since her first Season, had been less than inspiring.
Of course, they’d been rich, titled even, and with estates that would please even royalty, but as boring as watching water droplets dry on grass. And certainly none of them had inspired intrigue or attraction. The first time she had experienced that was today—with a thief.
Although that wasn’t quite true, since she had reacted to a man before, none other than their neighbor Callum Edwards, Viscount Arndel.
Alice stared at the road, not really seeing anything other than the horses cantering along. Maybe her mother was right and she needed to stop being so picky and viewing the wealthy as overprivileged idiots, because if she was reacting to bandits there was something wrong with her.
The piercing blue eyes of the man she’d left writhing on the road flashed before her and she grinned, hoping she hadn’t hurt him too much. Why, she couldn’t fathom. He had pulled a gun on them. He’d deserved everything he received. However, never in her life had she been so exhilarated and fearful at the same time.
It was an absurd reaction. The man was a scoundrel, not at all worthy of her attention. He deserved to be in Newgate for his crimes, and yet he had raised in her a devilish spirit, that was forever trying to break free. A spirit that yearned for a love match and a man who would spark her desire—every day of her life. Not someone who’d marry her for her wealth and the pretty face her mother was forever stating she had. Alice didn’t want to be anyone’s ornament. Someone who was hung in a grand home, admired and tittered over, but otherwise ignored. She slowed the horses as she turned them through the gates of Dunsleigh and sighed.
No doubt the fiend lived a wild existence that was neither hindered by Society nor family obligations. How she wished she could be as free as he was. Well, until he was captured and hanged for his misdeeds. That wasn’t the sort of ending she cared for at all.
But then what was life if one could not dream of possibilities? No doubt, no matter what she wanted, and yearned for, eventually she would settle down and live the life that was expected from the daughter of the Duke of Penworth. Although, no matter how much pedigree she held, it could not stop her from dreaming otherwise.
…
Callum Edwards, Viscount Arndel, sat up on the dirt road and leaned on his knees as he watched the coach barrel down the road and leave him in a pool of dust. He shook his head and frowned, wondering what the hell had gotten into him to act so reckless. He cringed and hoisted himself up to stand, dusted down his buckskin breeches, and whistled for his horse. As his trusty stallion Bandit trotted over, Callum pulled out the prized jewel from his pocket and grinned at the green gem. The trinket was the last gem required to resolve the debt to the moneylender—just as soon as he traveled to London to rid himself of it.
The rich, dark green emerald in a gold brooch twinkled up at him, the diamonds around the rectangular-shaped stone set off the jewel to perfection and anyone could tell it was worth a fortune.
He pocketed it and clasped the reins of his horse, lifting his leg into the stirrup without success as pain shot through his groin. He swore, rubbed his cock, and adjusted himself a little before trying again. After some time, he succeeded and cursed the little hellion to Hades. Lady Alice Worthingham had surprising strength in that delicate leg of hers, far more than he’d imagined.
Callum moved about on his seat, the blasted saddle causing throbbing in his own jewels and shooting pain up into his gut. He guided his horse toward home, needing a cold compress and a well-aged brandy, if not bed, after Lady Alice’s well-aimed knee.
Checking to see no one was about, he made his way across the fields toward his home, Kester House, and shook his head over his words to a woman well above him in social stature, but too young or too innocent to understand what his intent had meant.
What had he been thinking? Well, he knew what he’d been thinking, and damn him for the rogue he portrayed himself to be. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He’d never acted such a cad before. He’d taken what he wanted and run from all his other holdups. He had not played with his victims like a boy playing with wooden soldiers.
And he hated the fact that it seemed as if Lady Alice had not been fooled by his bravado or threat. If anything, he had the impression that she’d been laughing at him, daring him to try and seduce her.
Scamp came to mind when he thought of Alice and he laughed, absurd as it was. He’d not thought she had a rougher side, but for all her toff upbringing someone had obviously taught the girl to stick up for herself, both with her body and her mouth.
A mouth that he was sure would haunt his dreams for many a night to come. Delectable and succulent came to mind when thinking of her lips. She probably tasted as sweet as she looked.
Callum cantered across the meadow and welcomed another wooded grove that marked the border of his lands. The dense forest was as old as the estate and had been there ever since the family had bought the land in the 1600s. The old trees cloaked him in shadow and he paused a moment, taking the time to pull off his bandanna and wipe his face of any grime.
His horse ambled its way back to Kester House, as if it knew the direction on its own, and so it should, since the stallion had come with the estate when he’d inherited it. Soon, his future would be his to command again. With the emerald brooch in the moneylender’s hands, the estate’s debts to the fiend would be at an end, and if he could secure the sale of some lands that adjoined the Duke of Penworth’s estate, it would give him enough money to make the estate profitable again. Amelia and he could start afresh.
He’d longed for two years for this moment. He had a lot of missed time to make up for putting his family through the ordeal of never knowing if he’d return.
Callum frowned at the obscene amount of debt his idiotic cousin Robert, the former viscount, had left him floundering in. Such a waste of funds had been spent on gambling and the never-ending pursuit of women who had graced the stage. It had required a small fortune to keep those women honest. Not that they ever had, no matter how much Robert had paid them.
And Robert’s mother, who had allowed her son to run their only estate into the ground, was also to blame. Not that the old battle-ax would ever think her dearest, and now departed boy, could ever do any wrong.
He avoided the open fields at the front of the estate and, instead, made his way through the dense undergrowth of the trees, not wanting anyone other than his stable staff to see him dressed in the common man’s attire. The talk of the Surrey Bandit was all anyone was speaking about, and the detailed sketches of the fiend posted in the towns and roads were well done, too well done for his liking.
Should anyone take a good look at the wanted poster, they’d notice the little mole that sat on his right temple. Not to mention, his arrival home at all hours of the night, without the dress of a lord, would raise any staff’s curiosity, and that was the last thing he needed. His life of crime was so close to being over he could taste it, and nothing and no one would get in his way of a future brighter than his past had been.
Stuffing the bandanna into his saddle bag and slipping the brooch into his chest pocket, he made his way out of the trees and kicked his mount into a canter toward home. Tomorrow he would call on the duke and then make arrangements to travel to London for the sale of the gem. He couldn’t hie off to Town so soon after the theft. It would look suspicious, if he did. Time was his ally, and he would allow the local scandal to settle down, and once it
did, then he would finally be free of the trouble he was in.
Then and only then, would he be able to breathe easy, to be free to take responsibility for the estate he had inadvertently inherited—without the ever-tightening noose that threatened to choke the life out of his future.
He pushed away the guilt over the many jewels and family heirlooms he had stolen over the past year and a half. Callum pacified his conscience with the knowledge that the rich could afford to buy new pieces, if they wished—bigger and grander jewels to surpass anything he’d ever stolen, but he could not replace his daughter. After the bastard moneylender in London had shown him just how easy he could get his hands on his daughter, Callum had understood he would have to do as the man bid. There was no choice between the life of his child and a bauble that a matron of the ton wore. Becoming the Surrey Bandit had been his only option.
In time, he no doubt would harbor guilt, but not when his thieving kept his daughter safe and out of the clutches of a money-hungry madman. And thanks to the beautiful green jewel that sat snug in his pocket, his bandit days were over. He patted the gem as his horse came out of the forest and gave him a clear view of the fields that sat before his estate.
Green stretched for miles, along with a small stream that ran west of his home, and eventually, into the Thames. He pulled up Bandit and took in all that he now owned and lorded over. It seemed absurd that an estate of this size was for one man. Callum doubted very much that he would ever understand the Society in which he now circulated. It was a sphere in which he wasn’t comfortable, and even less so after he started to steal from them.
The estate shone like a beacon under the afternoon sun. A home made up of different architectural designs—too many for it to ever be termed magnificent, unlike his neighbor’s estate, Dunsleigh. The only asset, he supposed, was the woodlands that came right up to the home’s lawns—it gave the place a sense of mystery and privacy, something he welcomed. Now more than ever.