“No.”
“Do you work with others?”
“No.”
Aiden dropped the crusty bread to his plate and eased slightly back in his chair. “Is this the way our conversation is to be?”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Perhaps not,” he agreed, “but do you not think our stay here could be a tad more agreeable if we talk?”
“Why bother?”
“Because I’m curious,” he responded.
“What about?”
Aiden breathed a fraction easier. “You are a woman alone on the roads, undertaking a dangerous task. It has piqued my interest.” He reached out in front of him, searching for his tumbler. Lifting it to his mouth, he went to drink, but instead the ale dribbled down his chin. “God damn it!” He scraped back the chair, about to get up when warm fingers touched his.
“Try again. You need to eat…and drink.”
He stilled and inhaled deeply.
“Try.” Her encouragement was soft, calming.
Aiden scrubbed his hands over his face, over unseeing eyes. The longer his sight remained elusive, the more danger he put himself…and his companion in.
Tamping down his frustration, he searched out the tumbler and brought it slowly to his lips. “Who would have thought drinking such a difficult task?”
“Patience.”
“I’m not a patient man.”
At last the frothy ale passed his lips, washing away the dust of hours spent trawling England’s roads trying to catch his prey in the midst of his illegal dealings.
“See, success.”
“At least I won’t die of thirst,” he countered with wry frustration.
“Everything takes time.”
“And you have such patience, mistress?” But his companion said nothing. “What is your name?” he finally asked.
His question was rewarded with continued silence. “All right,” he said, “how about I tell you mine, and you can tell me yours.”
Silence…just for a fraction. “If you must.”
“Let’s put it this way. It makes it more congenial if, when talking to someone, you know their name.”
“I’m not sure I want to be congenial with a highwayman.”
About to correct her assumption that he was a highway robber, he reined in the truth. He offered a forced smile. “Touché. But surely you are in the same boat, since it was you who robbed those travelers.”
“Only once,” she offered as a denial.
His brows shot up. “I think once is never enough for thieves, though it seems you’ve garnered yourself a tidy sum for your first venture.”
“I said once,” she bit out, “and once is all it will be. Besides, what about you? You are just as guilty,” she accused. “A man of the roads who steals for a living,” she said, unwittingly reaffirming that she thought him in the same business as herself. “Is highway robbery any more an honorable profession for a man than it is for a woman?”
“Good point.”
“You, at least, have the freedom to do as you please, while I must bow to the wishes of those who control my life. Men in this world, sir, have all the privileges of the human order, while we mere women have a pitiful nothing.”
Aiden couldn’t contain his smile. “My, my…a bluestocking.”
Her chair scraped across the floor. “I am not. I simply want to marry whom I—” Her words were cut off followed by deathly silence.
“Whom you please,” he finished for her. He clapped his hands together. “Bravo, bravo. Such passion. Whomever you choose as a husband will indeed be a lucky man.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No.”
“Then you are not like other men.”
“No,” he said with a wry smile. “I am not.” God, how he wished he could truly see her. See her eyes, the anger and fire he knew would be there. He was certain they would be like her voice, fiery and unrepentant.
Aiden swallowed back his frustration. Perhaps blindness addled a man’s brain with romantic notions. He drained his tumbler and held it out for her to refill. She did so in silence and he brought the tumbler to his lips, but again he missed his mouth and half the contents dribbled down his shirtfront.
“God damn it!” Heat burned behind his eyes and his jaw clenched, fury roiling in his gut. “How much longer? I need to see, for God’s sake.” Inhaling several deep breaths, it took all his willpower to rein in his anger. He tried to focus on the woman he could not see but who he knew was so close he could reach out and touch her. “My name is Aiden Masters.”
He heard her shocked gasp. “You told the innkeeper your name was Martin.”
So she had heard. “Aye,” he said, keeping his expression bland. “Sometimes it does not bode well to tell one’s real name.”
“And yet you are telling me,” she countered.
His mouth curved into a slow smile. He’d told her his name, just not all of it. She did not need to know he was an earl. Telling the truth right now wasn’t safe, especially in his current predicament. “It seems, since you saved my life, I can trust you, Miss…” He held his breath. Would she trust him?
“Tess Stanhope,” she offered.
Aiden’s smile broadened. “Well, Tess Stanhope, it looks like we’ve got ourselves into a fine pickle.”
“I would have had no problems if you had not burst your way in.”
“Sorry.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say? I could have managed without your interference.”
“You could have killed someone.”
“And that would have been entirely your fault.”
“Mine!” Aiden took another sip of his ale. “How so?”
“You startled me.”
“Which just goes to show your ineptitude at your new endeavor, Tess. You’ve got to be alert for any movement. One never knows when the worst can happen.”
“And I suppose you’ve had plenty of experience.”
His smile dissolved. “I know what to expect.”
“Well, you do not have to worry about me, sir, because I will not be doing it again.”
A relieved sigh slipped from Aiden’s chest, its intensity surprising him. “Good. I would not want to see you hanging from your neck. So why did you start?”
“You said name only. You do not get to ask any more questions,” she reminded him.
His smile returned. “Ah…Quick with it, and brave, or perhaps foolhardy is more apt. You, Miss Stanhope, are an interesting young woman.”
“Not so young.”
“Really? You looked like a young lad atop that horse. A very good disguise, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“So where are you going?”
“That is none of your business.”
Aiden brushed the palm of his hand across his jaw, the graze of several days’ growth abrading his fingertips. “Perhaps not.” He shrugged, though he couldn’t shake his interest. “A woman alone and gallivanting over England’s lanes in search of a carriage to halt at gunpoint is rather interesting. It makes me wonder what is so desperate that you would resort to such an outlandish act?”
Again she made to move, his senses instantly alert as her chair scraped across the wooden floor. “Where are you going?”
“I told you I would not stay. It is time I left. Your wound has dried, so you will be in good health.”
“You would leave a blind man alone to the vagaries of…where are we exactly?”
“The village of Langton Howe, I believe. You need rest, that’s all. And time.”
Time. Aiden wasn’t sure he had much time. Word was out that the man he sought, the criminal Florian Nash, was on the move, and if he lost track of him now it would take weeks to flush him out again.
“Before you go, I trust you would check that the doctor is on his way?”
Her hesitation was potent. He reached out to her. “Miss Stanhope?”
“I will,” she finally replied. “Then I m
ust go. Do you have family, someone to send a message to?”
Aiden nodded. Family. Oh yes, he had family. His life on the road was all because of family. “If you arrange for the innkeeper to attend me, I will request he send a messenger,” he instructed.
“Very well.”
Aiden heard her footfall lead in the direction of where he thought the door was, and then halt.
“I…wish you well, Aiden. I am sure that once you heal, your sight will return.”
“So you do not regret your actions?”
“No, I do not. We each must do what we need to survive.”
“Tess?”
“Nay, do not ask me more questions, ones I will not answer. I bid you good day, sir.”
And with that, the most interesting highway robber Aiden had ever met exited their small room, closing the door behind her, leaving a deafening silence and him alone with his worries.
Lord, he desperately needed to get his sight back.
For too many weeks he’d paced the roads between London and the coast, waiting for his prey to make a move. He wouldn’t let Nash get away with what he’d done. This was about justice for his sister, Mary, and Aiden would not sleep until he’d found the bastard and exposed him for the lowlife he was.
A sudden sharp pain jabbed viciously into his skull and forced him to close his sightless eyes. He clutched his head with both hands and cursed brutally when the pain refused to let up.
He tried to reopen his eyes, but each time blinding flashes arced across the hollow darkness and the pain exacerbated a thousand-fold.
Pushing himself up on the balls of his feet, he twisted away from the table, knocking the chair to the ground in the process.
Where to? And how?
Fear strangulated his airways. Alone. And blind. The battlefields had been easy compared to this. At least there he could see.
Straightening, he shoved his hands out in front of him, imitating the blind beggars on London’s poverty-filled streets. Feet shuffling across the floor, he came up against a wall, then using it as a guide, he sidestepped his way around the room.
Where was it?
Sweat doused his body, his head pounded and his heart hammered. His foot kicked at something hard. The bed? Searching in his new darkness, his fingers trailed across the thin mattress.
Success! He exhaled a relieved sigh and slumped down on the bed, never more grateful in his life to rest.
Seconds later a tap sounded on the door and Aiden quickly fingered his pistol beneath his tailcoat. “Enter.”
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
In an effort to veil his inability to see, Aiden turned to the voice of the innkeeper. “Yes.” He nodded, determined to keep his tone level. “I have a message to send to my home. Do you have a reliable horse and rider who would take it?”
“Aye, young Frankie would be good. He goes like the wind on his mount.”
“Would he perchance know the streets of London’s West?”
“Aye. Not many hereabouts do, but Frankie is me sister’s boy. She got sick with the new babe, an’ all, so Frankie came to stay with me and the missus.”
“Good.” Aiden dug into the pocket of his tailcoat, feeling the hard edge of a guinea. “Send the boy up, Mr…” He hesitated.
“Jake Youngman, sir.”
“Well, Mr. Youngman, I have a job for Frankie.”
Left alone again, an exhausted Aiden sank back on the bed, his pain no less. Lowering his eyelids, he waited for the sound of the innkeeper’s messenger.
“Uncle Jake said you ’av a job for me, sir,” the lad said as soon as he entered upon Aiden’s call.
“Do you know Cadogan Square by any chance?”
“I know the West a bit, but I’m smart, an if ye give me some directions, I’ll find me way.”
He gave Frankie the address. “Ask for Morley. Tell him AMC lost Florian and to come to the inn at Langton Howe. Have you got that?”
“Aye, sir. I don’t forget things.”
Aiden gave a satisfied nod. “It is imperative, Frankie, that you make haste. Do not talk to anyone except Morley. Here’s a guinea, and there’s another for you when you and Morley return, so be sure you do.”
“Oh yes, sir. I will sir. Most definitely.”
Aiden quickly gave Frankie directions and, satisfied the boy could remember them, he waved him on his way. “Off with you then.”
Frankie bounded out of the room, whistling a tune as he skittered down the stairs.
Alone again, Aiden sank back down on the bed. At last he could think, but damn it, he still could not see. He lay like a baby, peaceful in slumber.
…
Tess had gone to deliver the message to the physician, but he’d been attending another patient and wouldn’t be available for some time. Aiden would be alone.
Blind and alone.
She knew she should have simply left, but the moment she cast a final glance toward the inn, her determination had withered and she had returned.
That had been hours ago, and still Aiden slept, his body flushed, soft moans slipping from dry, parched lips.
Using a clean cloth and fresh water, she dabbed his brow and mouth. He muttered his thanks, but did not wake and she couldn’t help but wonder if his sight remained lost in a blurred darkness.
Poor soul.
But what of her? She had to get away. To remain so close to home was to risk being found.
At the thought of what she had escaped, goose bumps trailed across her arms and she rubbed them brusquely.
Leaving her patient’s bedside, she crossed the room, opened the shutters, and stared down into the yard. It was quiet now, the hubbub of patrons long gone as night descended once more.
“You came back.”
Unable to douse the surprising delight at hearing him speak, she turned to face him. “Yes.”
His color had returned, his eyes no longer lifeless.
“Your fever seems to have abated. Perhaps you do not need the physician,” she said, not explaining why she had returned. “Can you see?”
He didn’t answer her at first and hope swelled in her chest.
“Unfortunately, ’tis still a blur, though lighter, if it can be called that. It is night again, is it not?”
She nodded and then remembered to speak. “It is.”
“Why did you come back, Tess?”
Yes, why?
“I think it is because you care.”
“I don’t have that luxury.” Not if she wanted to be free. “I came back to tell you the doctor would be some time. When I found you wracked with fever, I stayed.”
“Thank you.”
“You are correct, though. Night has fallen and I do not fancy being out on the roads. You yourself said it was dangerous for a woman.”
“It is, and yet you chose a dangerous escapade.”
“A necessary evil for a moment in time,” she countered easily.
“Is life so bad that you must resort to robbery?”
A hiccup bubbled in her throat. “I could ask the same of you, sir.”
“Aiden,” he corrected, a tiny smile playing along his mouth. “My name is Aiden.”
Something in her chest tightened.
“I do what I do, because I must,” Aiden finally said, his voice tainted with bitterness. “Honor is at stake.”
“Honor! You ride the roads as a highwayman, robbing people and yet you talk of honor? Honor and thievery seem strange bedfellows.”
“You are just as guilty.”
“Most probably,” she agreed. “At least you do not condemn me for being a woman.”
“A strong and determined woman, it would seem.”
“Not foolish anymore?” she questioned, with a sudden smile.
“You smile.”
Her jaw dropped. “You can see?”
“No, not totally, but I hear it in your voice, the timbre changes to a gentle lilt as the fear dissipates.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Shock reignited a flurry of nerves in her belly. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready for bed. It is time for us to sleep.”
“Sleep! I cannot sleep with you. It is not seemly.”
“You worry about your reputation and yet you steal from strangers.”
“But there is only one bed,” she said.
“We could share. ’Tis a cold night.”
Heat scalded her cheeks and she had the urge to fan herself, but resisted. Her gaze slid from Aiden to the bed and back to him. Sleep there. With him. “If you were a gentleman you would sleep on the floor.”
Mirth colored his unseeing gaze. “I would, but then, according to you, I am merely a rogue of the highway.”
Tess paced the few feet between the window and the bed. “How true. You, Aiden Masters,” she fumed, “are definitely not a gentleman.” Taking advantage that he could not view her actions, she snatched the thin excuse for a blanket from the end of the bed. “Have the bed if you must, but I will have the blanket and you may freeze in hell.”
Spinning away she retreated to the far side of the room as a sudden rumble of laughter echoed from deep down in Aiden’s chest.
“I think hell is hot, Tess.”
“Oooh…” The man laughed at her. Clutching the blanket to her chest, she plunked herself down in one of the chairs. It wobbled precariously beneath her.
“It’s going to be a long, long night, Tess.”
“Then I suggest you enjoy it, Aiden.”
Chapter Three
We are born to wed whom we’re told
But rest assured the female sex think for ourselves
So who among us has the determination to stand tall,
stand proud?
Mirabelle’s Musings
London, October, 1813
Dawn broke and still the doctor had not come. She’d given her word to Aiden that she would stay until his arrival, but with each passing hour the chance of being reunited with her family increased.
Luther Gibbs would not be happy. Blighting his marriage plans for her was tantamount to rebellion.
“Morning.” Aiden’s greeting reached across the room and drew her from her worries.
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