by Rebecca King
Frederick answered by flicking the reins harder and whipping the horses until they were at a full gallop. ‘They are going to try to head us off,’ he warned when the highwaymen charged past and disappeared into the darkness.
‘Is there another route we can take?’
‘We can double back I suppose, but I don’t know how many of them are still in that village,’ Frederick gasped. He made no attempt to slow down. He intended to drive quickly partly because he didn’t want anybody to see him, and partly because he was cold and wanted to get home before he froze to death. He could only hope that the carriage wheel didn’t fall off or something.
‘Knowing Miss Clarissa, she would insist on trying to fix it herself,’ he muttered in disgust.
‘Let’s go back,’ Clarissa suggested. ‘If they have gone to head us off, we can’t keep going on this road. We must return to the village. The villagers will have heard the gunshots and will probably be outside to see what happened by now. It should be enough to stop the highwaymen following us again.’
‘I can’t drive through the bloody village like this,’ Frederick snarled.
‘Well, we will have to keep going then and hope they don’t shoot you,’ Clarissa snapped.
Frederick turned to glare at her but knew it was not really her fault. He sighed and reluctantly hauled the carriage to a stop. He knew that a little further down the lane there was a field that he could turn the carriage around in. He just wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea that they either continued as they were or doubled back to the village. They were well and truly stuck either way.
‘Well?’ Clarissa prompted.
Frederick sniffed and shivered when a cool breeze stole what was left of his warmth. ‘Let’s go before we all bloody freeze to death.’ With that, Frederick guided the horses into the field and turned the carriage around.
‘Do you see them?’ Clarissa asked.
‘There is no sign of them on this side,’ Rosamund replied.
Frederick shook his head. Clarissa felt sick with dread and fear but refused to even stop to contemplate what might happen if the highwaymen reappeared.
‘Go faster, Frederick. If they are hiding out there and can see us you are a target sitting up there,’ Clarissa warned.
Frederick was physically shaking from being exposed to the cold night air and didn’t answer. Clarissa looked at him when he didn’t reply and immediately realised what was wrong. His face, pale in the night, was tinged with dark rings around his eyes and dark lips. It made his otherwise handsome countenance look ghoulish but only because she suspected his lips were dark because they were blue.
‘Wait!’
‘What is it?’ Frederick hissed impatiently.
‘Stop the carriage,’ Clarissa snapped. ‘Now, Frederick.’
The warning tone of her voice was enough to make Frederick stop the carriage. Clarissa jumped down.
‘What are you doing?’ Rosamund called.
‘Get your shawl. There is a knee blanket under the seat.’
‘What for?’
Clarissa didn’t answer. She climbed into the driver’s seat beside Frederick. ‘Get inside,’ she ordered, sliding the reins out of his limp fingers. ‘Go on. I can drive it from here. I am at least partially dressed. You cannot sit up top like that or any women in the village who see you will have a conniption.’
Frederick sniffed.
‘Rosamund has a blanket and her shawl you can use to wrap around you. Get inside.’ When Frederick still didn’t move, Clarissa glared at him. ‘Go.’
‘No.’
‘Go.’
‘Miss.’
‘Go.’
Frederick sighed but when another gust of cold wind swept through him, he shivered alarmingly and sighed instead.
‘You are going to be no good to us if you are shaking so badly you cannot drive properly. Get inside the carriage where it is at least a bit warmer. Go, Frederick,’ Clarissa urged again.
With a muttered curse, Frederick reluctantly climbed down. Clarissa purposely studied the landscape to spare his blushes. Once he was safely inside the carriage and the door was closed, Clarissa gently flicked the horses on and began to drive back toward the village.
It was alarming just how quiet the night was. Not a sound could be heard except for the horses’ hooves and the rumbling of the wheels. She could have been the only person out in the night, but she knew that she wasn’t.
‘I can feel you out there watching us.’ Clarissa eyed the gun Frederick had left propped up against her feet and sighed heavily because she knew she couldn’t use it. She would have to rely on Frederick.
When she could see the road ahead, Clarissa flicked the reins and focused on driving a little faster. She felt rather than saw the highwaymen approaching. It might have been the faint thud of their horses’ hooves on the ground. It might have been the shifting shapes all about her. But when Clarissa looked around, all she could see was the inky night. Sitting up on the driver’s seat, though, she knew she was as much a target as Frederick had been, even more so because she was in her undergarments.
‘I just hope the village haven’t come outside to see what all the commotion is, or I am going to have to start to do my shopping somewhere else,’ Clarissa muttered before urging the horses to go a little bit faster.
The horses were cantering when they reached Simmerton for the second time that evening.
‘Where is everyone?’ Frederick called from inside the carriage when he peered out of the window and noticed that the streets were still empty.
Clarissa pursed her lips and shivered in alarm at the sight of the darkened houses. ‘They are probably too scared to come outside,’ she replied, more to herself than to him.
Now that they were within the village, she slowed the carriage down again. Bracing herself, she studied their surroundings and tried to keep the horses at a steady pace. It was when they turned onto the main street in Simmerton that she saw the fallen highwayman still lying where he had been cut down.
‘I wonder who shot him?’ Frederick asked, studying the corpse as they passed it. ‘It wasn’t us.’
‘Damn,’ Clarissa hissed, hauling back on the reins when she saw another group of riders blocking the end of the road.
‘Who are they?’ Rosamund cried when she saw the strangers.
‘They aren’t the highwaymen,’ Frederick growled as he studied the unfamiliar horsemen.
‘Stay in there,’ Clarissa snapped, eyeing the men warily.
They looked considerably more dangerous than the highwaymen. All of them were dark, heavily armed, and motionless as they blocked the road. Clarissa suspected they were the men who had shot the highwaymen, but who they were and why they hadn’t chased after the highwaymen or retrieved the corpse was beyond her. She glanced at the road they had just used only to realise that it wasn’t a wise move to take her eyes off the strangers before her.
‘Do you think they are the real highwaymen?’ Frederick whispered.
‘I don’t know. Which route should we take?’ Clarissa stared steadily at the men.
‘The one to the right will take us on a faster route home,’ Frederick whispered. ‘I’ll come and drive.’
‘No. I can manage,’ Clarissa insisted before Frederick could open the door. ‘Stay right there.’
Her heart pounded as she watched one of the riders break away from the group and start to make his way toward her. Unlike the Toad, there was no malicious smirk on his face, or bold swagger. The man who rode toward her was stern, almost solemn, but considerably more dangerous.
CHAPTER FOUR
Clarissa watched the men circle the carriage. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded.
One of the riders reined his horse to a stop beside her. Clarissa stared at him and tried to remain as calm as possible. This rider was nothing like Toad. The man beside her was tall, dressed from head to toe in black, and wore a large wide-brimmed hat that covered most of his face except for his chin. It wasn’t
what he was wearing that concerned her. It was the sight of the guns strapped to his hips, the handle of the knife sticking out of his boot, and the sinister looking men he was with that alarmed her the most. The man didn’t speak and didn’t appear to even look at her. Clarissa’s heart pounded. She tried to think of something to say to break the tension, but her mind was blank. She looked at the road behind the riders in front of the carriage horses and contemplated what to do. It was possible to flick the horses on, but she couldn’t risk the men grabbing hold of them. If they did, the carriage would be stuck in the village until the men chose to let them go.
‘What do you want?’ Clarissa demanded again. Her wary gaze was drawn back to the mysterious man beside her.
She didn’t know what was worse, being unable to see the mysterious man’s face, or seeing it cast in shadows as it was. The dark orbs of his eyes glinted maliciously at her from beneath the shelter of his hat. She shuddered but forced herself to keep her gaze locked with his. Something deep within warned her that she shouldn’t show this man any weakness. He was a predator, someone who was raw, dangerous. He threatened her presence of mind, her wellbeing, even more than the other thugs. It didn’t surprise her that he didn’t answer her. She knew he was trying to warn her that he would talk to her only when he was ready. It was a way of trying to make her feel subservient, as if she had to wait for him to make the decisions. It annoyed Clarissa so badly that she didn’t bother to speak to him again. Instead, after raking him with an insulting look, she promptly turned to look at one of the men blocking the road.
‘Will you get out of the way? We don’t have anything for you,’ she snapped loudly. ‘We have already been robbed once this evening.’
‘Are any of you hurt?’
Something shivered down Clarissa’s spine when she heard that deep, slightly husky rumble from the man beside her. She didn’t want to have to look at him again because of the way he made her feel smaller and weaker, entirely feminine and at his mercy. Clarissa braced herself when she did determinedly tip her chin up to glare at him. To try to thwart the awareness she felt toward him, Clarissa waved a hand at herself.
‘Do I look all right to you?’
The man didn’t answer. He leaned sideways in his saddle and tipped his head so he could look at the occupants inside the carriage. ‘Are any of you hurt?’
‘They didn’t hurt us, sir, but we have had a fright,’ Frederick replied.
‘Can we go now?’ Rosamund cried. ‘I am freezing.’
‘We are all cold,’ Clarissa muttered, glaring balefully at the mysterious stranger. It irritated her that he still didn’t take the hint and get out of their way. Without taking her eyes off him, Clarissa called: ‘Don’t worry, Rosamund, we are leaving. Now.’
Clarissa waited for the man to inform her that she wasn’t going anywhere, or at least tell her why he had stopped her. Instead, he slid a lazy glance down the length of her as if it were normal to find a lady driving a carriage in her undergarments. Because of his hat, it was impossible to know what he was thinking. Suddenly, he stood up in his stirrups and caught something one of his friends threw at him. Shaking it out, the mysterious man held it out to her in a gentlemanly fashion by draping it over his forearm as if presenting it to her.
‘Ma’am,’ he said softly.
Clarissa stared at the cloak he held aloft. When she didn’t immediately take it off him, he nudged his horse a little closer and draped it over her lap.
‘Ah, thank you,’ Clarissa muttered, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.
Because she couldn’t resist the promise of warmth from the cloak, Clarissa dropped the reins in her lap and quickly dragged the cloak around her shoulders. Immediately, the soft material blocked the cold night air from stinging her bare arms. She huddled into the thick material and sniffed miserably while savouring the respite from the elements it brought her.
‘Did you do that?’ she asked quietly with a nod at the dead man.
‘Yes, we did,’ Al replied without bothering to introduce himself. ‘We arrived in time to watch what he and his friends were doing and managed to shoot him before he got away. We weren’t so lucky with his friends I am afraid.’
‘You saw them chase us?’ Clarissa asked.
‘We did, but you had disappeared into the night before we could follow you. Not all of them chased you. Did you know that?’
Clarissa hadn’t known that. All she could remember was that there seemed to be a lot of riders behind them. She hadn’t had the chance to count heads but didn’t tell these strangers that. She stared hard at the man closest to her. ‘Who are you? What do you want with us?’
‘Did you recognise those highwaymen?’ the man closest to her asked.
‘No,’ Clarissa replied. ‘How long have you been here? You saw what happened?’
Again, the man didn’t answer.
Frederick poked his head out of the carriage and threw the rider an apologetic look that made Clarissa glare at him. ‘The ladies – we – have all lost our clothing. The blighters took the lot. I tried to keep the carriage going, sir, I really did, but they blocked our way.’
The stranger leaned down to peer at him. ‘And you are the coachman in there because-?’
‘Take a look,’ Clarissa snapped with an angry glare.
The stranger nudged his horse forward and peered into the carriage leaving Clarissa to glare boldly at him. He muttered what sounded like a curse when he saw Frederick protecting his modesty with a thin knee blanket, two shawls barely covering his brawny shoulders, and a sour look on his face. It told Zach all he needed to know about why the coachman was tucked out of sight inside the carriage leaving the stunning young woman to drive.
In her undergarments as well.
With a small muscle ticking in his jaw the only outward display of his emotions, Zach turned his horse around to look at the beautiful young woman once again. It irked him to admit it, but he had been so entranced by her he knew she had spoken to him at least twice but had no idea what she had said. The heaving of her bosom tightly restrained by her white corsets, the paleness of her alabaster skin, matched with the wilful flash of fury in her wide eyes, was probably the most shockingly addictive sight he had seen in an awfully long time. He could stare at her for hours, days even, and not get bored.
In all my time with the Star Elite, I have never seen anybody like her. God, she is beautiful.
He knew instinctively that she was passionate, headstrong, and would be difficult, but only because she wasn’t afraid of life. He doubted she would be the kind of woman to scorn someone just because they didn’t like to do something. Somehow, he couldn’t see this delightful young woman sitting in someone’s morning room taking tea like most ladies of the aristocracy. He suspected that this young miss, who sat most comfortably upon the coachman’s seat as if she were used to being there, was familiar with a servant’s life.
‘Are you two related?’ Zach asked, waving a finger between the stunning woman and the embarrassed man inside the carriage.
‘What in the Hell does that matter?’ Clarissa snapped.
Zach coughed at the abruptness of her frank reply. He quite liked the spiky response. It was forthright, honest, and left him in no doubt that he had a challenge on his hands. If there was one thing that he liked more than anything it was a challenge.
‘Seen enough?’ Clarissa demanded with a glare when the man nudged his horse around so he could see her again. She had the distinct impression that he had been studying her with just as much intensity as she had been trying not to study him with, but it was hopeless. She was intrigued. She sensed that he was strong, tough, forthright. If he chose to do something, then this mysterious stranger did it and did it well. Clarissa doubted there were many in his life who had ever challenged him and come away better off for it. The man was dangerous but also complex. She sensed she was under threat but there was a gentleness in his voice when he spoke to her that was as confusing as it was intriguing. Clarissa wa
s tempted to stand up and ask which version of him was the real man but then a deep, hidden instinct to protect herself warned her that it was better that she didn’t know too much about this stranger. He could, after all, be a highwayman.
‘Again, what do you want with us?’ Clarissa sighed when he still refused to answer her.
Al threw Zach a worried look when Zach still didn’t answer the young woman. It wasn’t like Zach to be lost for words. With a cough, Al glared at his friend but then realised why Zach wasn’t talking. His gaze was locked on the young woman, but in a riveted, bemused kind of way, as if he was looking at something he had wanted for an exceedingly long time and wanted to stare at it for a while now that it was in front of him. Shaking his head in disbelief, Al leaned forward in his saddle and decided someone had to answer the young woman’s questions. Because Zach clearly wasn’t going to, the wilful young woman was becoming visibly more annoyed and was apt to do something foolhardy if someone didn’t start to talk to her.
‘I am afraid that we arrived when they were in the middle of holding you up,’ Al explained. ‘We managed to take out the one who was closest to us.’ He nodded toward the corpse. ‘But the others fled into the shadows before we could shoot them too.’
‘Who are you?’ Clarissa demanded. It was then that she started to suspect she knew who they were. What she didn’t know was why they were talking to her and hadn’t chased after the highwaymen just as soon as they had left the village.
‘We are the Star Elite,’ Al replied quietly. ‘We won’t hurt you.’
‘You arrived while we were being robbed by the highwaymen.’ It wasn’t a question. Clarissa felt her anger begin to build.
‘That’s correct.’ Al nodded, but mentally winced when he saw her face change.