Page 23 of The Highwayman's Bite

Rhys and Vivian laughed at the same time. The mingled sound made heat flush to her face. She broke off her laughter and took a scone from the basket.

After Rhys brought out the cheese and wine, he started a fire in a cunning hole carved into the cave floor and topped by an iron grate. As the heat from the first flickers of flame reached her, Vivian realized how chilly the cave was. Strange, she hadn’t noticed until now.

She also hadn’t noticed that she was ravenous until she’d devoured her scone and reached for a second one. Guiltily, she glanced up at Madame Renarde to see if her companion had observed her unladylike bites.

But Madame Renarde was occupied with pouring a second glass of wine.

She turned her attention back to Rhys. “Are you not going to eat?”

He shook his head. “I dined earlier.” Once he had the fire going, he sat back on the cot opposite hers. “Tomorrow, I’ll secure a hot meal for you. And if I can acquire some ice, I can better stock the larder.”

“Thank you,” she said, with her ingrained manners.

Madame Renarde eschewed any pleasantries. “It is good that you wish to keep us well fed, but don’t expect that to ingratiate us to you.”

Rhys inclined his head respectfully. “Madame, I had no such lofty expectations. I wish for this ordeal to go as smoothly as possible.”

“How can you call it an ordeal?” Vivian shot him a glare. “We’re the ones being held prisoner.”

He sighed. “Yes, and as the one holding you, I now have two women to look after and contend with until Lord Thornton gives me the money.”

A tremor ran through her limbs at his talk of holding her. Vivian shrugged off the distracting sensation. “And how long do you think that will take?”

“Hopefully no longer than a night or two,” Rhys said. “In the meantime, I will try to make things as comfortable for the both of you as possible.”

Despite herself, Vivian was touched by his attention to their comfort. Madame Renarde also appeared to soften towards him.

Her companion poured Vivian a second glass of wine and then a third for herself. She leaned forward and tilted her head to the side as she studied Rhys. “On our first encounter, you called me an old man. Now you address me as Madame. What brought about the change in manners?”

“At first I thought you were a Molly, or enacting a deception to take advantage of your charge. I apologize for that swift judgement.” Rhys sounded genuinely contrite. “After observing you and your interactions with Miss Stratford, I realize you are like other individuals I met, who feel as if they were born in the wrong form. I can’t claim to understand such a thing, but if you wish to live as a female, I have no qualms with addressing you as such.”

Both Vivian and Madame Renarde gaped at him in astonishment. People like Madame Renarde were generally regarded with amusement, scorn, and virulent loathing. Vivian had heard from Madame Renarde that sometimes if one’s secret was discovered they were brutally beaten to death at worst, and publicly humiliated and driven out of town at best.

Vivian couldn’t imagine facing such prejudice, though she knew very well how one was regarded when they did not conform to their expected role in society.

Rhys’s acceptance of Madame Renarde’s chosen way of life was nothing short of a miracle. Not even Uncle Aldric was as tolerant.

He was accepting of her too, Vivian remembered. He’d expressed genuine admiration for her love of fencing, with not even a hint of judgement. She hid a frown with a sip of wine. It was very difficult to hate such a man.

And him being so unbearably handsome did not help matters in the slightest.

Madame Renarde interrupted Vivian’s dangerous path of thought. “I thank you for your courtesy. It is a pity that we hadn’t met under friendly circumstances.” Her stress on the word reminded Vivian that no matter how charming this rakish highwayman was, he was not their friend at all.

“I quite agree,” Rhys said and drank the rest of the wine straight from the bottle. “But I do hope we can at least be civil.” He rose and took their glasses back to the dark part of the cave, then did the same with their plates. “Now, as it is past dawn, I hope you do not object to my suggestion that we retire. Kidnapping is exhausting business.”

Madame Renarde covered her mouth and yawned. “That does sound agreeable. However, I cannot approve of Miss Stratford sleeping so close to you. I think we should switch.”

“I am sorry you feel that way,” Rhys said mildly, though there was a thread of steel in his voice. “Miss Stratford is my primary hostage and I intend to keep her close.”

Vivian sucked in a breath as her heart hammered against her ribs. She hadn’t thought about sleeping next to him until now. “What about my privacy?”

Rhys gave her a look of consideration. “If you look above, there are curtains that pull down. There are also chamber pots beneath the bunks.”

“Splendid,” Madame Renarde said and reached up to untie the roll suspended from the ceiling.

When the curtains came down, Vivian saw that they were made of thin slats of bamboo and had beautiful paintings of tigers on their tawny surfaces. She’d seen them in homes where the Chinoise trend had been embraced. Utterly beautiful, and more importantly, their captor would be unable to see through them. “These are lovely,” she said. “Did they come from China?”

“India.” Rhys’s voice penetrated the thin barrier. “Before you undress, I do have a trunk of various clothing that may be more comfortable.”

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