The Highwayman's Bride (3 page)

“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 must 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.”

“You should be. The world is dangerous.” Pushing himself up, he swung his legs off the bed, then bent down and yanked off his boots.

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.

Tess turned from the view of the misty dawn. “You are awake.”

“I am, Miss Stanhope, though quite difficult not to be when one lies on a mattress I’m quite sure is made of the hardest materials known to God and man alike. Then, of course, there is the fact I froze for lack of coverings.”

“That is of no consequence to me. I gave you a choice.”

“Ah, yes, I remember. The floor or freezing.”

“At least
I
gave you a choice, while you simply suggested I share your bed.”

“It was a nice idea, you have to admit.”

“Pah!”

Ignoring her annoyance, Aiden levered himself from the bed with ease, reached for his boots and slipped them on as a tap sounded on the door.

“The doctor?”

“You sound hopeful.”

“I have other places to go.”

“Rather than tending to a man in his sick bed, I presume.”

Tess rolled her eyes, shaking her head at his attempt at humor and crossed their small room to the door. A gasp choked her airways the moment she opened it, followed by sour bile rushing up her throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

It was all over. Finished. Freedom evaporated.

Three men stood in the doorway, a myriad of expressions playing across their faces. Two of them she did not recognize. Unfortunately, that could not be said of the third.

“You’ve surpassed yourself this time, missy.” Luther Gibbs, cheeks ruddy, his brow dotted with perspiration, shoved past the other men to enter the room. “You’ve led me a right merry dance.”

“How did you find me?”

His mouth curled into a supercilious sneer, and his chest heaved, puffing his bullfrog cheeks. He leaned into her and Tess braced herself, the familiar shiver of fear revisiting as she waited for the pinch, or the surreptitious dig of his fingers into her flesh.

She stemmed the automatic plea on her tongue and edged back, trying to shift out of his reach.

“I got lucky, if that’s what you can call it,” he harrumphed. “Bloody horse threw a shoe. I spied that old nag you stole from me at the stables. You’ll pay for this, missy. You’ve cost me a pretty penny having to chase you across the damned countryside. Your aunt is sick with worry, and won’t stop her sniveling and Percy…” He swiped at his brow with a crumpled handkerchief.

Suddenly his attention shifted to Aiden standing at the end of the bed, and in one blatant gaze he summed up Aiden’s fine attire. Tess knew he’d be calculating the cost and what he could garner from Aiden. A smile played across his fleshy lips. “You, sir. Who are you?”

Her partner in crime stood to his full height and held out his hand. “Aiden Masters,” he affirmed.

At the sound of a choking cough, Aiden turned slightly to the open door where the other men stood. His brow furrowed. “Morley, glad you could make it.”

“Aye, sorry about the delay, m’l—sir.”

The man Morley entered, followed by the third man.

“I believe a doctor is required.”

“Wait a moment. What about my niece? You’ve sullied her reputation.”

“Uncle, please don’t.” Tess reached for his arm, and tugged at his coat sleeve, recognizing her mistake in an instant, as he shucked her off with a vicious snarl.

“Don’t say another word, you hussy. I’ll deal with you when I get you home. What Percy will say to this turn of events, I have no idea. A trollop, that’s what you are. A trollop. Somehow we’ll have to keep this secret. If Percy knew you’d dallied like some—”

“I have not.”

Luther’s hand fisted and Tess jerked backward.
Please don’t hit me. Please.

“Enough!” Aiden’s command silenced the room though Luther’s lips smacked several times before he tempered his haranguing. “Miss Stanhope helped me when I fell and took a grave knock to my head.”

“And I’ll be certain I knows what kind of help that may be.”

“Now look here.” Morley, Aiden’s friend, stepped forward, but Aiden waved him back.

“Leave this to me.” Mouth grim, Aiden’s brows knitted and his gaze darkened. For a minute they were the eyes of a man who could see—see her uncle for what he was. A sadistic bully and a blustering, money-grubbing sycophant who, as sure as the sun would rise tomorrow, would try to make money from this encounter.

For years, he’d dipped into her inheritance, but now it had been whittled away to virtually nothing. Tess knew exactly where it had gone. On fripperies, and food and wine. On journeys to take the waters of Bath. And on his businesses that never eventuated to anything.

Now she was being forced to marry a man who had a twin persona to her uncle.

Tess cast a quick glance at the brutal man.

Marry she may do, but it would be on her terms and to a man she could at least respect. Percy Harrow would never earn that.

“Miss Stanhope has acted exactly as a young lady should, sir.”

“Really.” Luther’s piggy eyes trailed down her length, his mouth switching into a derisive sneer. “A lady, sir, does not steal from her family, or wear the trews of a man. Shameless is what you are, missy.” Cheeks blazing scarlet, he snapped his attention back to Aiden. “The girl is uncontrollable. Needs a firm hand and a husband.”

Tess witnessed the knowing glint in his eyes.

“Uncle. No. Let us leave, please,” she interrupted in desperation.

“Not now, girl.” He cast off her arm. “I intend to protect your good name. You, sir, owe me some funds for my trouble. It’ll take a while to convince old Harrow to marry the chit, and funds to ah…convince him, of course.”

“Of course,” Aiden scoffed.

Her uncle’s audacity should have shocked her. It didn’t. She’d seen it all before. “Uncle, please. You can’t do this.”

He fisted a hand in her face and she shrank from his threat. She knew the damage that fist could do. Luther was a bully at best, a brute at his worst.

“I can do what I bloody well like. I’ll sell you to the poorhouse if needs be.”

Dear God, why was she always his bartering tool?

“Aunt Tulip will be wondering what has taken you so long, surely,” she said, desperate to divert him.

“Tulip does as she is told,” he countered with a savage snarl. “And so should you.” His clenched fist closed in, barely an inch from her face.

The world silenced, the only sound to be heard was the click of Aiden’s pistol.

“Touch her, sir, and you will have to deal with me.”

With sickening horror Tess looked over her uncle’s shoulder toward Aiden. His pistol was pointed directly at Luther’s back. Morley stood quietly to Aiden’s side as backup. Aiden held the gun without the wavering lurch of a blind man unsure of the direction of his target. Her highwayman could see at last.

“Your sight is back.”

A slight tug at the corners of his mouth was all the confirmation she needed.

“How long?”

True to the intent of a man who lived his life on the knife-edge of the criminal world, he never took his gaze off his target. “Sometime during the night the headaches abated, the flashes seemingly clearing my vision.”

Despite his profession, Tess couldn’t have been happier. She rather liked Aiden Masters. He had not judged her, as did most who wanted her to fit into their preconceived perceptions, and for that she was grateful.

“So it seems my services are no longer needed.”

In unison, Tess and her uncle turned to face the doctor.

“No, sir, I’m sorry, but your services are no longer required. Perhaps it best you go,” Aiden said, his attention unwavering.

Obviously grateful to be leaving the heated discussion, the doctor quickly retreated, leaving her uncle facing Aiden and his friend Morley…and their pistols.

It was over. She’d failed.

Tears threatened and she blinked several times, willing them to abate. She would not cry in front of Aiden or her uncle. Crying was for private. For the life she once had and for the life she could not find. “All right, Uncle, you have won.” Her chance of freedom had evaporated the moment her uncle had walked in. Holding herself rigid, she stepped up to her highwayman. “Good-bye, Aiden. I am very pleased you have your sight back.” She tucked her hair back under her cap and strode to the door. She didn’t care if her uncle followed or not, she simply had to get out. Away from Aiden’s blatant scrutiny, uncertain what those eyes, that mere hours ago had looked so hollow and lost, actually saw now.

“You’ve forgotten your reward.”

Tess halted. Slowly turning to Aiden. He held out the sack holding her booty from her single foray into the world of crime.

“This is yours, I believe.”

Cheeks burning, her attention darted briefly toward Luther, then back to Aiden. She swallowed hard and shifted from foot to foot. “I cannot take it.”

“That wasn’t what you thought yesterday. You need it.” His voice was a mere whisper and Tess realized he was trying to conceal her crime from her uncle. God alone knew what would happen if Luther learnt of her sins.

“Yesterday I had a chance to make my own life, now those baubles are of no use. My chance is lost.” For a moment she stared resolutely at Aiden, willing him to understand.

Let me go. It’s over.

“What have we here?”

Luther snatched the sack from Aiden’s grasp, eyes widening with glittering anticipation as he delved into its depths.

Her stomach heaved with a heavy sickness as he brought out a gold pocket watch, the face encrusted with the glint of jewels.

“You wanted recompense, I believe, sir,” Aiden said, covering her sins.

Luther held up a gold ring and beamed his excitement.

“Aye. ’Tis deserved after all the trouble the bloody hussy has put me to. This lot will fetch a tidy sum.” He tossed the ring back in the sack and switched his gaze to her. “Right, me girl, I think I have what I’ve come for.”

Aiden’s top lip curled into a sneer. “I was under the impression you came for your niece.”

Luther spluttered his embarrassment. “Of course,” he said, rectifying his mistake. “Get going, missy.” Fleshy fingers roughly grabbed at her arm, digging bitingly into her as he frog-marched her from the room.
Like a lamb to the slaughter.
At the top of the stairs she glanced over her shoulder one last time at Aiden. At freedom.

Mouth grim, he offered her a curt nod. “Stay strong, Miss Stanhope.”

“Do you think it possible I can?”

“I know you can.”