Page 7 of Her Wicked Highwayman
“Ach, I’m wounded. The laddie thinks we are vile thieves!”
The other highwaymen laughed, unbothered by the insult.
“All right, laddie, ye’ve proven ye’re brave. Now be at ease, young pup.”
Claude reluctantly climbed down and stood beside his parents. He turned to assist Diana, but the thief nudged him aside with the barrel of his gun.
“Well now,” the man purred as he spotted Diana. “What a bonnie wee thing ye are.” He held out a gloved hand to her.
Diana scowled at him.Bonnie. She wasn’t unkind in her appraisal of her looks, but she was well aware that she possessed an impertinent chin and a slightly upturned nose that made her look more mischievous when in good spirits and quite harsh when she was in a bad mood. And right then, she was most assuredly in a foul mood.
“I do not require any assistance, nor any of your false flattery.” She braced herself on the side of the door and used her free hand to lift her blue velvet skirts out of the way as she stepped through the coach’s doorway. She’d worn her best dresses while in London, hoping to remind the bankers she was still from a noble family, and now she regretted that choice. If it rained now, her dress would be like lead weights upon her skin.
“Ye will let me help you, lass. I insist.” The man reached forward, curling one arm around her waist and lifting her off her feet.
She slid down the front of his body, all too aware of every hard, muscled inch of him, like a marble statue. She clutched his shoulders in surprise at the way her body warmed in response to his. She gazed into bright-blue eyes that seemed like clouds shot through with moonlight. As he set her down, her shawl slipped and she released his shoulders, intending to pull it back up.
“Allow me,” the Scotsman said. He took the shawl and wrapped it back around her, but his gaze lingered on her breasts as he tucked the opposite ends of the shawl into her shaking hands.
“Exquisite,” he said, his gaze still focused on her chest.
“I beg your pardon!” she hissed and covered herself.
The man’s low, rough chuckle scraped over her skin in a most erotic way, sending a flutter of heat through her. “I was speaking of yer necklace. Although, I could say the same of yer beautiful breasts. They arealsoexquisite.”
“Howdareyou speak to a lady thus!” Claude shouted. He took a step toward the thief.
Rather than feel challenged, the highwayman seemed only amused by the young man.
“Every lass likes to hear her beauty praised, laddie. Best to learn that lesson before ye start bending women over, eh? All women deserve a bit of wooing before the loving.” The Scotsman’s gaze never left Diana as he brushed the backs of his gloved fingers over her cheek and then down to the column of her throat.
She should have slapped his hand away, but she was caught still by his gaze. She’d never felt like this before. This man’s eyes held her pinned like some poor butterfly beneath a pane of glass. She was powerless before him, but why? No man had ever made her feel like this. His sinfully lush lips parted, and she tasted the sweetness of his breath as he continued to watch her. Their faces were so close now that he could almost kiss her. He seemed to realize the startling effect he had on her, and his grin grew wistful.
“Ye’re too sweet for a man like me, kitten,” he said, his lips curving into a charming, crooked grin. That singular grin unfurled a river of sweet heat that licked through her veins.
“On that, you are quite wrong,” she replied. Some of the fire came back into her blood. Fire she could use. Fire she understood. “I am anything but sweet. I spew fire and I rage,” she warned. But the words came out more breathless than she had thought they would. She was angry, wasn’t she? Why didn’t she sound angry?
“Lucky for ye, lass, I quite like to be burned.” The way he said the wordburnedsent a thrill through her. What could he mean by that? Were there other ways to burn other than from anger?
One of the other highwaymen spoke up with a light Irish lilt. “Come now, Tyburn, collect our winnings so we can leave.”
Had these men come from all parts of the kingdom? Joined forces to rob Englishmen and women? Given how the government had treated the Scots and the Irish in the last hundred years, she couldn’t blame them. A moment later, she realized that she’d learned the dashing Scotsman’s name.
Tyburn.
Rather fitting, since he would someday hang at Tyburn for his crimes.
“Verra well,” Tyburn said as he stepped back from her and removed a leather pouch, opening it with one hand while keeping his pistol aimed at his victims. “Ye heard him. Pocket watches, jewels, and any coins, if ye please.” He started with Edwin and his wife, who dropped their money and jewelry into the pouch. Claude reluctantly surrendered his money and pocket watch. When the highwayman held out the bag to Diana, she poured the meager contents of her coin purse into the pouch with great regret. Sheneededthat money, blast him! He cleared his throat and stared at her expectantly.
“I gave you all the money I have!” she practically spat.
“Ye forgot yer necklace, my lovely fire drake.”
Her hand shot instinctively to curl around the large freshwater pearl that hung from the gold chain around her neck. It was the only thing of her mother’s she had left that she hadn’t sold to help her keep possession of her home. It was the one thing she couldn’t part with. Her father had given it to her mother the day she’d given birth to Diana. Unlike many men, he hadn’t cared that they’d had no male children. He’dbeen overjoyed to have a second daughter, and that pearl was a representation of his love for his wife and their new child.
All the fire inside her left. “Please, I must keep it,” she begged. If she had to grovel to keep the necklace, she would.
Tyburn’s lips twitched. “Alas, love, I canna show favoritism to ye or my reputation will be ruined.” He reached up, most likely intending to break the chain in order to remove it from her.
