Just This Once (19 page)

Then it eased away, an inch. Two. She heard
a rough laugh. “Don’t want to hurt her, me lord, but we will if you
make any trouble. Now get in there with the rest of ’em. We don’t
’ave all night.”

And the front door of Lady Tattersall’s
house slammed shut behind them.

F
ear tumbled
through Josie as she was shoved into the large drawing room that
veered off the hall. Someone pushed her so forcefully, she
literally catapulted into the knot of people huddled in front of
the sofa, and Josie felt herself caught and steadied by a tiny
red-haired woman in a high-necked green gown.

“There, dear, you’re all right. Don’t be
f-frightened,” the woman whispered bravely, her fingers clinging to
Josie’s arm, whether for Josie’s benefit or her own was a matter of
opinion. Her small lips were trembling, and her velvety brown eyes
were very wide, but her doll-like face held a rigid calm as she
tried to smile reassuringly.

Behind her, Josie heard rough laughter.

“All right, ladies and gennelmen. Time to
hand over yer pretties.” A stout man of average height addressed
the group in a gravelly tone. She realized that he was the one who
had grabbed her, for he held a knife in his heavy gloved hands. He
wore dark, patched clothes in poor condition and a black cloth face
mask that covered all of his features save for fierce, slitted
black eyes. “Tiny’s goin’ ter make the rounds now and all ye’ll
’ave to do is drop all your baubles in this ’ere sack,” he growled.
“And be quick about it. Wouldn’t want your fine supper ter get
cold, now would we?”

He gave another guffaw of laughter. Then the
tallest, broadest, fattest giant Josie had ever seen lumbered
forward with a gunnysack clenched in his bear-sized paw.

It was then that the fog of shock evaporated
and everything clicked into place. The men who’d accosted them were
none other than Pirate Pete and his cohorts, the very same thieves
Mrs. Fielding had spoken of the other night.

Thieves.
Josie could scarcely believe
it. More of her own special brand of bad luck. She’d escaped Snake
Barker and his brutal gang of outlaws only to end up robbed at
knifepoint by England’s most notorious bandits.

Instinctively, her hands flew to the ruby
necklace at her throat, the one that had belonged to Ethan’s
mother. A tiny sound of dismay escaped her, and she peered quickly
over at Ethan, who had been herded with the other men near the far
end of the sofa.

But Ethan wasn’t looking her way. He was
studying Pirate Pete and the third man, the tall, slim, muscular
one brandishing the pistol. He, too, wore a black face mask like
Pirate Pete and the giant, Tiny.

Oh, please don’t let Ethan get himself
killed,
she prayed instantly. The expression on his face
frightened her. Josie had only known Ethan Savage for a short time,
but she knew him well enough to be convinced that he wouldn’t stand
idly by and allow himself to be robbed—not without putting up one
hell of a fight.

But how could he fight? He was unarmed. And
these men had knives and guns.

Yet one look at his set, cold face told her
that Ethan would not let such minor inconveniences stop him.

Tall and lean in his dark evening clothes
and white tie, he stood a little apart from the other men. Far from
looking the least bit cowed by the outlaws, he looked faintly
bored. But Josie saw the tension in his shoulders, the tautness of
his long fingers as he gripped the back of a chair.

And she knew that he would try something,
anything, rather than let these thieves make off with his jewels
and money without a fight. Panic sparked through her.

He would get himself killed.

Beside Ethan, Oliver Winthrop trembled like
a rabbit who’d stumbled into a fox den. He kept rubbing his hands
together in a nervous gesture that failed to keep the uneasy twitch
from his neck. Beside him was a stocky older gentleman with an
imposing mustache and the stern face of a walrus. He was scowling
from beneath heavy black brows at the giant who had halted before
the ladies and was now holding out the open gunnysack.

“Oh dear, oh dear. Why me?” The buxom woman
in the elaborate dress and glittering jewels wailed. Her red face
was puffed with fear. Josie guessed that she was Lady Tattersall,
for the word “peacock” never could have applied to the tiny
auburn-haired woman in her rather old-fashioned plain green dress,
and the only other lady present was a rail-thin black-haired beauty
with extraordinary lily-white skin and perfect features who was
much too young to be Ethan’s godmother.

“There are surely scores of dinner parties
going on all over the county tonight—why on earth did Pirate Pete
have to choose
mine
?” she uttered miserably.

“ ’Urry up with it, my lady, or I’ll see you
’ave some-thin’ else ter weep about,” Tiny grunted. Josie felt a
surge of sympathy for her as she fumbled in terror with the clasp
of her diamond necklace.

“Come on! We don’t ’ave all night.”

Behind the mask, his eyes were opaque and
empty, like blank wooden coins. The massive girth and size of him
dwarfed all three women, and instilled such terror in Lady
Tattersall that her fingers trembled all the more.

“Here, let me help her,” Josie said,
stepping forward. The small auburn-haired woman gave a small gasp
as Josie slipped past Tiny and put a steadying hand on Lady
Tattersall’s wrist.

“Let me do it,” she said quietly.

“Oh, thank you... Lady Stonecliff. We
haven’t been properly introduced, but since you came in with dear
Ethan, or actually were pushed in with dear Ethan, I have
assumed—”

“Quit yer squawkin’!” Pirate Pete stuck his
knife in his belt, strode forward, and without warning, grabbed
Lady Tattersall by the throat. He ripped the necklace from her as
Josie’s fingers fortunately finished unlocking the clasp. “And them
rings and earrings, too,” he barked.

“And you’re next, me li’l pretty,” he told
Josie, his gaze skimming over the rubies at her ears and throat,
then lingering a tad longer over the enticing whiteness of bosom
showing above the bodice of her gown.

“Maybe ye’d like ter come with us when we’ve
finished ’ere,” he invited with a wide, crooked-tooth grin. “You’re
a good mite prettier than all these ’ere baubles.”

“No, thank you,” Josie replied with prim
dignity, biting back the urge to tell him that she’d sooner tangle
with a barrelful of skunks. She’d already had the dubious pleasure
of being an unwilling companion to a band of outlaws, and had no
intention of ever doing it again. But it seemed wise not to
antagonize Pirate Pete at this moment.

There had already been violence enough in
this house tonight. She was still worried about the butler in the
hall, and wondered if anyone lay injured elsewhere, needing
help.

The sooner the outlaws finished their
business and left, the quicker they could take stock of the
situation and see what could be done.

So she held her breath until Lady Tattersall
had dropped all of her jewels into the gunnysack, then Josie slowly
removed the intricate gold-and-ruby earrings.

She hesitated for a moment, glancing at
Ethan before dropping them into the bag. He gave her a sharp nod.
She let them fall with a soft thud.

“Now the necklace, and that shiny bracelet
and yer gold ring. Then you, Blackie, you’re next,” Pirate Pete
told the ebony-haired girl, who looked revolted at having been
addressed by such a low personage.

Josie held the necklace a moment too long,
loath to drop it in the sack, and Tiny grabbed it from her. “Ye can
always ’ave yer rich lord buy you another one,” he rasped.

She turned anxious eyes to Ethan as first
the necklace and then the bracelet clanked into the bag. The only
change in his cool expression was a slightly more pronounced
whiteness around his mouth. She knew that if the third man did not
have his pistol leveled at the ready, Ethan might have done
something very foolish.

Josie forced herself to remain calm as she
watched the outlaws relieve the black-haired girl of her jewels,
and then move on to the little red-haired woman who was trying so
hard not to appear frightened, though her blue-veined hands were
trembling. She had little jewelry, only a simple cameo necklace and
tiny jet earrings, which she tugged from her ears slowly and then
dropped into the sack.

“Not worth nearly as much as the rest of it,
but we’ll take ’em all the same,” Pirate Pete sneered, and suddenly
gave the frail-looking woman a shove that sent her sprawling down
upon the sofa.

“Miss Perry! Oh, dear God help us!” Lady
Tattersall moaned in dismay.

“Don’t you dare touch that lady again!” the
walrus-faced man shouted.

Pirate Pete ignored them both. “You certain
that’s all you ’ave?” he demanded of the woman.

Terrified, she nodded, her lips
trembling.

“Well, then, it’s the gennelmen’s turn.” He
spun away from her in disgust. “Lucian, give over that popper,” he
ordered the third man, who handed him the pistol. Brandishing it,
Pirate Pete surveyed the group of finely dressed men.

Josie prayed again that Ethan would do
nothing foolish.
This isn’t Abilene and you’re not wearing your
guns,
she admonished him silently, but she had small hope that
such facts would deter him. He looked grim as death, and more than
ready to avenge the shaken Miss Perry.

Oliver Winthrop, on the other hand, showed
no desire to put up a fight. His valuables went into the bag
without his uttering a peep, nor did he even meet the eyes of any
of the outlaws as they watched his quick, nervous movements with
jeering amusement.

The walrus-faced man was next. Josie could
see his chest swell with indignation as he was forced to hand over
a heavy gold pocket watch, money, a signet ring, and a jeweled
stickpin. He glared at both Pirate Pete and Tiny, and the helpless
rage he obviously felt vibrated through the room. Yet wisely, he
refrained from speaking aloud his contempt for the outlaws, and
they moved along to plant themselves before Ethan.

“Fork over the lot o’ it, yer lorship.”
Pirate Pete leveled the black pistol at Ethan’s heart. “And be
quick about it. We still ’ave to get the lady of the ’ouse to show
us where her other lovelies are ’idden.”

“What?” Lady Tattersall gasped. “Haven’t you
taken enough? Oh, I shall faint! I cannot bear it....”

Tiny snarled at her outburst, and Pirate
Pete rounded on her, his black eyes glinting. “Stop yer screechin’,
ye old bag o’ oats, or Lucian will cut yer tongue out, he
will.”

At this, Lady Tattersall shrieked, and
Lucian yanked a knife from his pocket, a wicked-looking weapon with
a long, glittering blade, and stalked toward her.

“Calm yourself, ma’am,” Ethan ordered
sharply. He turned an icy sneer on the outlaw leader. “Don’t you
think you’ve bullied enough women for one night? I’ve a better
proposition for you.”

Pirate Pete eyed him suspiciously. But Ethan
saw with satisfaction that Lucian had halted his advance on Lady
Tattersall, and even Tiny had stopped fingering through the bag of
goodies to fix him with a hard blank stare.

“Leave the women alone, and let’s finish
this business away from this place. If you dare,” Ethan suggested
with a taunting edge to his voice, “come to my house. Stonecliff
Park. It’s close by, and contains just as many valuables, perhaps
even more. I’ll turn them over to you without shrieking, I can
promise you that.”

“Now why would the likes ’o ye be willin’
ter do that?” Pirate Pete demanded, his finger playing along the
trigger of the gun.

“What do you care,” Ethan countered with
silken calm, “so long as you get your booty?”

It was at this moment that the older
gentlemen could contain himself no longer. With an oath he threw
himself forward at Pirate Pete and grabbed for the pistol.

Pirate Pete jerked the gun away as the other
man tried to wrest it from him. It went off, and the walrus-faced
man clutched his arm in rage, all four ladies screamed, and then
everything happened at once.

Ethan reached into his boot with lightning
speed, drew out a hideaway gun, and fired at Pirate Pete. Tiny
threw himself at the outlaw leader at the same time, knocking him
out of the way and taking the bullet meant for him. It barely
slowed his huge form, though it tore through his massive shoulder.
Lucian raised his knife and leapt toward Ethan.

And Josie snatched a candlestick from the
table beside her and swung it at Tiny’s head.

In the hissing blaze of the gaslamps
illuminating that exquisite and very crowded drawing room,
pandemonium ensued. Of one mind, Lady Tattersall, Oliver Winthrop,
and the black-haired girl scattered toward the French doors off the
dining room, while the auburn-haired lady knelt instantly beside
the walrus-faced man, handkerchief in hand, and tried in vain to
stanch the blood spurting from his arm.