Page 21 of The Highwayman's Bite

Chapter Eight

Vivian held her breath, waiting in unbearable anticipation, as the highwayman hesitated to answer Madame Renarde’s question.

Would he kiss her again? Or, heaven forbid, force himself on her? She remembered the hunger of his kiss the night they’d met. She’d matched him with equal fervor that shocked her to the core. She remembered the dark desires he’d awakened with his embrace.

At last, her captor met her eyes with an intensity that burned.

He shook his head in a firm negative. “I do not bring my attentions where they are not wanted.” He raised his head and regarded Madame Renarde with a wry smile. “Furthermore, although I’m a highwayman, I do have some semblance of honor.”

“Honor?” Vivian concealed her relief at his words with feigned scorn. “You drugged our carriage driver, stole the horses, and abducted us to extort money from my uncle! Forgive me if I do not take your vow to not assault me as proof that you’re a gentleman.” An inane thought flitted through her mind and she voiced it on impulse. “We haven’t even been introduced!”

The highwayman clapped his hand over his mouth and roared with laughter.

Vivian realized how absurd she’d sounded and nearly joined him in his chuckles. Fighting back giggles, she forced a level tone and attempted to bring back reason. “I’m glad I was able to amuse you,” she said drily, “but what I meant to say was... shouldn’t my companion and I have the right to know the name of our jailer?”

The highwayman regarded her with that rakish grin before he rose from his cot and bowed with a flourish. “Rhys, at your service.”

“Vivian Stratford, at your mercy,” she retorted drily, noting that he did not give his surname.

Rhys grinned. “Touché.”

She inclined her head and turned to her companion. “And this is Madame Renarde.”

He extended his hand to shake, then suddenly, he grabbed his arm and hissed in pain. Oh Lord, Vivian had forgotten that she’d shot him. After all, he was quite lively for a wounded man.

“Ladies, forgive me,” he said through gritted teeth. “I must attend to this ball in my arm before we continue this lovely chat.” With that, he opened the box he’d placed on the cot earlier.

Vivian stared in horror at the array of torturous surgical instruments. He sounded so calm about the grisly matter. Rhys then took out a little brown bottle that she’d seen in many noble households. Laudanum. Was that what he’d drugged her and the others with?

Doubt immediately imbued her. She’d had laudanum before, when she’d sprained her knee from a tumble down the stairs. The substance had made her feel foggy, but it hadn’t made her fall asleep. And if he’d given her that same drug, surely she’d be muzzy-headed. Instead, Vivian felt more awake and alert than she’d been in her entire life.

Rhys took a large swig from the bottle, as if it were a dram of whiskey.

Tentative hope bloomed in her chest. If he were drugged, perhaps she and Madame Renarde could escape. She glanced up at her companion and saw that Madame Renarde had the same thought.

Rhys quashed their notion before they could even plan. Even worse, he did not slur from the drug. “Don’t entertain the thought of attempting to depart while I’m occupied. I’ve installed a door in the cave’s tunnel and it locks from the inside. Feel free to have a look.”

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