The food was plain but cooked to perfection, and Josiah was at his most charming as he entertained them with stories of his years on the high seas.
Harper contributed his own tales of his career in London, his self-effacing humor making Raine chuckle even as her stomach constricted with nerves.
At last the final dishes were whisked away and Foster entered with a tray of port and the inevitable box of cigars.
Raine rose to her feet with a smile. “I shall leave you to your cigars and chess match.” She waved her hand as the gentlemen began to scoot back their chairs. “No, please do not get up.” She flashed a smile toward their guest. “Mr. Harper, I shall be in the drawing room for the next hour or two. You need only call for me if you are in need of rescue.”
The young gentleman gave a nod of his head, but there was a glow in his eyes that revealed he had no intention of calling for rescue.
“I will keep that in mind,” he murmured.
Josiah sent her a triumphant glance as Foster began to set the chessboard on a small table beside the fireplace.
“Good night, love,” he murmured. “I shall see you in the morning.”
She performed a small curtsy before leaving the room and making her way up the stairs to the drawing room. Once there she closed the door and moved to seat herself on the small pianoforte and began picking out an absent tune. The sound of the instrument would be muted but unmistakable in the dining room.
Precisely what she needed to convince Mr. Harper she was nicely occupied while the Knave of Knightsbridge rampaged through the neighborhood.
It was less than a quarter of an hour later when Mrs. Stone slipped into the room and silently slid onto the bench beside Raine. In concert, Raine lifted her fingers from the keys and the housekeeper began to play the light tune.
The woman possessed little skill, but it was enough that she could pick out a few keys and keep the music floating through the house.
Raine rose to her feet and, ignoring Mrs. Stone’s worried gaze, she moved toward the back of the room and out the door. From there she could easily make her way down to the kitchens and out the back of the cottage.
She resisted the urge to peek into the window of the dining room and instead firmly crossed through the garden toward the stables. Her father would keep the magistrate well occupied for the next few hours. And the sooner she was on the road the better.
Entering the stables, she found her mare already saddled and a small satchel near the door. Foster was nothing if not efficient, and with a minimum of fuss Raine managed to pull off her gown and was tugging on her father’s gaudy attire.
As she buttoned the crimson jacket her fingers briefly faltered. She had not seen the garment since she had returned from London. She had not wanted to see it. Now she found herself recalling just how easily Philippe had slipped the jacket from her body. Dear heavens, his hands had been so tender, as if she were the most fragile object in the world.
A small sound rose to her throat as the vivid memories rushed through her mind. The scent of Philippe’s warm skin. The sound of his soft voice as he whispered in her ear. The manner in which his beautiful features softened when he touched her.
She gave a sharp shake of her head. No, she could not be distracted. Not now. Her father needed her full attention. She could not fail him.
Ignoring the odd ache that clutched at her heart, Raine finished dressing and led her mare from the stables. It was not until she was some distance from the cottage that she at last mounted her horse and settled into a comfortable pace.
The night was cold and the wind swiftly had her clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering as she headed directly toward the narrow path where she had overheard Mr. Harper and Timms plotting. They would be expecting the Knave of Knightsbridge to arrive with his treasure, and she knew that the magistrate would have men waiting to capture his foe. All she need do was to be seen in the vicinity before making a swift retreat.
Surely that would convince the stubborn man once and for all that her father and poor Foster had nothing to do with the flamboyant bandit?
Sending up a silent prayer that nothing went wrong on this night, Raine slowed her horse and edged toward the side of the path. Bathed in the light of the full moon, she knew her crimson cape would be easily visible. She needed to be prepared to flee at the first hint of danger.
She had nearly reached the spot where her father had promised to leave his bounty for the poor widow when Raine heard the unmistakable sound of a sneeze coming from the trees.
With a smile of relief she abruptly whirled her mare around and began pounding back down the path.
From behind she heard a sudden shout and the crash of men rushing to gather their horses to follow her.
“That’s the Knave, don’t lose him,” a voice growled in annoyance.
Raine never bothered to turn her head as she leaned low over the pommel and urged her mount to an even greater pace. She had already carefully plotted her exact route, and as she rounded a large corner she turned onto a hidden path without missing a beat.
Once she was certain that she was out of sight she slowed to a walk and urged her horse behind a tree. In just a few moments three horsemen thundered past as she breathed a sigh of relief.
If her pursuers were worth anything at all they would double back once they realized that they had lost their prey. By then, however, she intended to have disappeared into the darkness.
Slowly counting to one hundred, she urged her mare back onto the dirt track and made her way toward a nearby gate. She would circle around the village and then the vicarage before approaching the cottage from the back. The last thing she desired was to stumble into her pursuers if they decided to go in search of the magistrate.
She picked her way carefully through a small meadow and entered the heavy copse of trees. The moonlight thankfully kept her from knocking her head on a low-lying branch or breaking her poor mare’s leg in a rabbit hole.
By the time she reached the edge of the road her heart had slowed its frantic beat and her breathing had almost returned to normal. Oddly, however, her blood continued to rush through her with tingles of excitement.
She breathed deeply of the crisp night air and tilted back her head to study the near-full moon.
The danger had passed, and for the moment she could simply enjoy the feeling of being free.
And that was what she felt, she realized with a tiny flare of shock.
Away from the confines of the cramped cottage and the local tabbies that watched every maiden with the avid hope that they might create some delicious scandal, she could be herself. A woman who enjoyed midnight rides and the thrill of danger. A woman with the power to save her father from the gallows.
Life in a tiny village had always been a stifling existence for Raine. She possessed too much restless energy to easily submit to the rigid structures that confined her, but now that she had actually tasted such liberty it was nearly unbearable.
Dear Lord, she wanted to thunder down the nearby road and simply keep going.
Of course, the realistic part of her mind assured her that she was being ridiculous. Where would she go? How would she live?
Besides, no matter how far she fled it would not really change anything. She would still be a young woman without the means or the opportunity to break free of the chains that held her.
Blowing out a sigh, Raine shrugged off her strange mood and carefully studied the dark road. By now her pursuers should be back at the village, or even at the cottage warning the magistrate that the Knave had escaped their trap. All she had left to do was remain out of their sight for the next hour or so and then she could return to her chambers with no one the wiser.
Once she was certain she was alone, she urged her mare forward. She would not risk breaking her neck or her beloved mare’s leg by stumbling about in the woods.
She had traveled less than a mile when she noticed the unmistakable outlines of a carriage that had halted along
side the road ahead of her. With a frown she slowed as she studied the unexpected sight.
Oh, it was not uncommon for a carriage to have some difficulty or another. Such rough roads tended to lame horses, break wheels and even snap axles. The local inn made a fine living from those poor travelers who had been forced to stay the night while their conveyance was repaired.
As she watched, the driver walked around the carriage as if he were searching for what had caused the trouble. Beside him was a bent form that was heavily shrouded by a thick cape.
An elderly woman and her servant, Raine concluded, hesitating as she unconsciously chewed on her lower lip.
Wisdom demanded that she turn around and find a new path to take her toward her home. She could not possibly offer any help when she was dressed as a notorious highwayman. Besides, the elegance of the carriage and the perfectly matched team assured her that the woman possessed enough wealth to smooth whatever troubles might come her way.
On the point of turning off the road, Raine was suddenly struck by a most tempting notion.
She had come out tonight merely to convince the magistrate of her father’s innocence. She was to be a fleeting decoy, nothing more. Her father had been most emphatic on that point.
But now that she considered the matter, she realized that the poor widow would not find the coins she had expected to be hidden for her in the ditch. What if she were turned out into the cold if something were not done? What if she had nowhere to go, nothing to eat and no one to care that she was suffering?
Surely the elderly matron in the fancy carriage, who obviously possessed all the luxuries in life, should be encouraged to do her Christian duty and help another?
And shouldn’t the Knave of Knightsbridge be the one to encourage her?
Ignoring her tiny stab of guilt at the thought of terrifying the aging woman, Raine reached into her pocket to pull out her father’s dueling pistol. She had no intention of actually harming the woman, she reminded herself. And it would only take a few moments to collect her coins and pretty baubles.
With a press of her heels, she urged her mount forward, not halting until she was nearly upon the two strangers.
“Forgive me, but I must ask you not to move,” she rasped in low tones. “Do not fear, I promise I will not harm you if you do as I say.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before the elderly woman slowly turned. Then surprisingly, the woman was reaching up to push back the hood of her cloak.
“Unfortunately, I cannot promise the same, querida,” drawled an all too familiar voice.
CHAPTER NINE
PHILIPPE REALIZED THAT THE cold, vicious fury that had plagued him since he returned to discover Raine gone was oddly melting away as he regarded her pale, shocked face.
Oh, he was still angry. His pride had been wounded by the knowledge that while he was planning an erotic interlude, she had been devising a means to escape him.
And beyond that had been a sharp, unwelcome dread. As if her disappearance had lost him more than a potential mistress.
But now that she was once again in his grasp, the chill began to ease from his heart, as if her mere presence was enough to return that warmth he craved.
“Do not bother to flee, Raine,” he warned in silky tones. “If I am forced to chase after you yet again, I shall be very annoyed. You do not desire that.”
Her gaze tracked Swann as he straightened and moved to stand in the center of the road. He had not yet pulled his pistol, but the threat that he would stop at nothing to keep her from fleeing was etched in every line of his bulky form.
Her expression tightened as she returned her attention to Philippe. “What are you doing here?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Obviously awaiting you.”
“But…”
“Carlos,” he called, summoning his companion, who had been hidden in the bushes across the road. “Please assist Miss Wimbourne from her mount and put her in the carriage.”
“No,” she managed to squeak before Carlos had his hands tightly around her waist and was plucking her from her horse.
Despite her diminutive size she managed to land a kick to Carlos’s knee and was attempting to rake her nails down his face when Philippe stepped forward and grasped her wrist in a firm grip.
“Raine, if you try to battle me, it will be very much the worse for you,” he warned.
Her dark eyes flashed with a frustrated fury, and something else. Fear?
“What could be worse than being in your clutches again?”
“My clutches?” Philippe instinctively eased his grip, his thumb rubbing an absent path over the thundering pulse in her wrist. “You make me sound like a villain from a Gothic novel.”
“An apt comparison, considering your habit of lurking in the dark to kidnap poor, helpless women. What else could you be but a villain?”
Philippe gave a short laugh. “You poor and helpless? A pit of vipers holds less danger than you. Besides, you left me little option. My lover belongs in my bed, not risking her beautiful neck with such reckless abandon.”
Her breath caught and a fiery blush stained her cheeks. “Do not say that.”
“What? That you are my lover? It is true enough.” There was a bite to his tone. He did not like her denying their relationship. His gaze shifted to the silent Carlos. “Put her in the carriage and let us be on our way.”
Carlos gave a lift of his brows, his expression faintly mocking. The man seemed to find a great deal of amusement in the fact that Philippe’s little urchin had proved to be a woman. And even more amusement in the fact that Philippe had been nothing short of desperate to track her down.
That amusement might have worried Philippe at any other time. It meant that Carlos thought he possessed some secret information that Philippe did not. But at the moment he was more interested in keeping an eye on Raine as Carlos bundled her into the carriage.
She would never meekly submit to her fate. She would battle him until he could make it clear that she was utterly and completely his.
Waiting until Carlos stepped back, Philippe climbed into the carriage and settled at her side. He closed the door and Swann swiftly had them moving down the frozen road.
Scooting along the leather seat, Raine pressed herself into the corner and glared at him.
“What are you going to do with me?”
He stretched out his legs and folded his arms over his chest. Now that he had Raine close he found the tension that had been plaguing him for days beginning to ease from his muscles.
No, that was not entirely true. There was still a faint hum that tingled through his body, but now it was the sort of tension a man enjoyed. The sort of tension that was entirely due to having a beautiful, desirable woman at his side.
And she was beautiful, despite her ridiculous attire.
His eyes lingered on her pale face. He had almost convinced himself that it was mere fantasy that made the memory of her delicate features and faintly slanted eyes so fascinating. That she could not possibly be as lovely as he recalled.
But he had imagined nothing.
She was breathtaking. Still, he was beginning to sense that it was that fiery spirit behind the beauty that was what truly had captivated his interest.
Beauty was easily discovered, but courage and loyalty, and unwavering determination to care for those she loved were far more rare.
Her eyes flashed with annoyance as he continued his intimate survey in silence.
“I asked what you intend to do with me,” she gritted.
“I have considered several possibilities,” he at last murmured. “Putting you over my knee and beating some sense into you was my first choice, followed closely by locking you in the nearest dungeon for your safety and my own sanity.”
She gave a loud sniff. “You need not bother with the dungeon. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and I would say it was years too late to hope for your sanity.”
There was just enough challenge in
the tilt of her chin that Philippe could not resist temptation. With a smooth motion he turned on the seat and, reaching out, he tore the crimson hat from her amber curls. He opened the side window and tossed the hat out of the carriage before following it with her ridiculous cape.
Momentarily stunned by his audacity, it took a moment for Raine to react. As his fingers began unbuttoning the heavy jacket, however, she slapped at his hands.
“Stop that. What are you doing?”
Never pausing, he continued to tug the jacket open. “Your days as the Knave of Knightsbridge are officially over, querida.”
She struggled against him, but she was no match for his strength. With a last tug the jacket was off and he threw it out of the carriage. Turning back, he stilled as an odd flare of pleasure raced through him at the sight of the golden locket that lay nestled against her ivory skin.
He should be furious at the knowledge she had not only stolen his mother’s locket, but now possessed the audacity to wear it. That tiny piece of jewelry meant more to him than all his fortune rolled together.
Instead of fury, however, he experienced a purely male sense of satisfaction.
The gold glittered against her skin as if it were his brand of ownership. And perhaps it was.
After all, she could easily have hocked it for a tidy sum, or given it to the hordes of poor who seemed to depend upon her father’s charity. Instead she wore it beneath her clothing as if it were a precious secret she desired close to her heart.
“Whether or not I choose to play the role of the Knave of Knightsbridge is not your decision to make, Monsieur Gautier,” she hissed as she shivered beneath his heated gaze.
Philippe briefly paused as he realized she had somehow discovered his identity. Not that it truly mattered. He could hardly keep her with him without revealing who he was. But it was a reminder that it would be difficult to hide anything from this woman.
“Ah, but it is.” He pulled off the cloak he had used as his disguise and wrapped it about her shivering form. A pity to cover up the beauty revealed by her thin shift and corset, but he would not have her catching a chill. “I have captured you and on this occasion you will not escape me.”
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