Page 5 of Seducing the Knave

Chapter Two

Max held tight to the cloaked woman’s hand, keeping her close behind him. He knew a thing or two about evasion and haste was the first requirement in a successful getaway, especially when stuck in the middle of the open countryside without any twisting alleys or tight warrens to get lost in. He could only hope there’d been enough time to get fresh horses hitched to the carriage. But if not, he’d figure something out. The ruby broach in his pocket ensured it.

If there was one true thing that could be said about Max Owen, it was that he honored his deals. And if there was more where this ruby came from, he was going to earn a significant purse for a task far easier than most he took on.

Skirting around the outside of the inn, he paused before darting across the courtyard to the stables. Seeing no one about, he continued forward in long strides. The high-stepping lady gave a soft grunt of protest he ignored. She’d have to get used to a little rough handling.

Max was no soft-handed toff.

Ducking into the dim-lit stables, he spied George, his brother’s driver, sitting on a barrel in the corner.

“Oy,” he called out in a low tone. “Time to go.”

The driver leapt to his feet. “Right away, sir.”

“All’s ready?”

“Aye.”

A distant bang sounded from the inn. Max hoped it was the delay he’d paid for. “We’re in a hurry,” he noted drily.

“This way,” George replied.

They exited to the rear of the stables where the carriage was waiting.

Giving a quick nod to Jack, the groom, who was adjusting one of the horse’s harnesses, Max opened the carriage door. When the small woman beside him didn’t immediately climb into the vehicle, he ordered, “In ye go, princess.”

“But the steps—”

With a grunt of annoyance, he grasped her around the waist and hefted her up and into the carriage. She gave a squeak of surprise followed by a short huff, but she didn’t fight him. After a few quick words to George, who’d already taken his spot on the perch, Max leapt into the vehicle and took a seat on the front-facing bench, which happened to be already occupied.

The lady snatched back her skirts to keep him from sitting on them as she scooted over to make room. “It’s customary for a gentleman to sit facing backward,” she snipped, “allowing the lady to claim the front-facing position.”

Max laughed and settled more fully into his seat as the carriage turned out of the courtyard onto the lane.

“Not a chance, luv. I don’t like traveling backwards.”

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