Page 17 of The Highwayman's Bite

Unease clenched her belly. How did he know her name? They most certainly hadn’t been properly introduced the night he’d tried to rob her carriage.

“Have you been following me?” she asked between her teeth. Revulsion filled her at the thought.

“Not intentionally,” he answered. “It’s your uncle I’ve been watching. But you will prove to be very useful to me.”

Vivian frowned in disgust at the prospect of being used for anything. Wistful disappointment threatened to distract her from the matter at hand. He was just like all the other men she’d known. Only seeing women as means to serve their own ends. She straightened her shoulders and favored him with her most practiced, icy stare. “You’re going to try to abduct me?”

His laughter sent shivers down her spine. “Try? No. I am going to abduct you.” That wicked grin broadened as he moved toward her, now only seven paces from her. “But do not worry, I won’t hurt—"

Vivian pulled the pistol’s trigger and let out a cry of surprise as the gun tried to leap from her hand. Her wrist throbbed with the shock of the recoil and her ears rang from the explosive roar. She blinked and looked back at the highwayman.

He stood, staring at her in slack-jawed astonishment. “You shot me!”

She blinked again. If she had, why was he still standing? Then she saw a dark spot on the arm of his coat, glistening wetly in the moonlight. She’d clipped his forearm. Fear rippled through her being as his eyes seemed to glow with unholy coppery light. What if she’d angered him so much that he’d kill her?

Vivian turned to run, but the highwayman seized her wrist and yanked the gun out of her hand. She sucked in a startled breath. How had he moved so quickly?

He tossed the pistol into the bushes near the horses. For a moment, she raised her brows at the action. The only bullet had been spent, so the weapon was useless.

Then he jerked her into his arms. The feel of his hard body, pressed indecently against hers, forced the breath from her body. She’d never been in such intimate contact with a man before. Not even Lord Summerly had gotten so close when he’d offered his indecent proposal. The highwayman hissed through his teeth, and for a moment she thought that he was just as affected by this improper embrace as she was. Then she remembered that she’d shot him.

Vivian struggled to maintain her composure and not swoon at the overwhelming sensation of intimacy. “Are you going to drug me like you did with Jeffries and Madame Renarde?”

He gripped her shoulders and lowered his head, so they were face to face. For a moment, Vivian thought he was going to kiss her again, and to her dismay, part of her wanted to feel his lips on hers once more. She stared into his sherry-colored eyes, and the sculpted planes and angles of his face, savagely beautiful in the swaying light of the carriage lanterns.

Vivian realized that she could see him better now, because this time he wore no hat. His russet hair was longer than any gentleman would keep it, aside from her uncle. But Uncle kept his black locks neatly tied back in a queue. The highwayman’s tresses fell across his face, making him look wild and uncivilized. Something about the sight stirred her body, much like the memory of his kiss.

Then he spoke, his voice low and rich, like her morning chocolate. “No, Miss Stratford, I will not drug you.”

With his uninjured arm, he reached up and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Sleep,” he whispered.

Her limbs melted, and he caught her before she collapsed into a puddle at his feet. Unconsciousness cast her into a void of shadows.

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