The Highwayman (Rakes and Rogues of the Restoration Book 3) (28 page)

“Jack?” she said shakily. Her heart swelled with joy and excitement, and she sank against him in relief. Everything
was
all right now, for the first time in days. What a fool she had been to doubt him, even for a second, when every time she really needed him, he was there.

“Who else? I know you’re angry with me, Bella. But that is the second time you’ve tried to shoot me and you’re quicker with that weapon than I remember.”

“I’m not angry, Jack. I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in all my life.”

“Good. Then you will forgive me this.” He pushed her up against the wall and kissed her. It was fierce and bruising and he held her there with a muscled thigh pressed hard between her legs.

Shocked, aroused, she responded in kind, throwing her arms around his neck, and returning his kiss with one as hungry as his own. But when one hand clasped her breast and the other caught her skirt, raising it to her thigh to grasp her naked flesh, she stiffened with alarm.

He growled low in his throat, and cupped her jaw, turning her face to the street, and she saw the men approaching. One of them grinned and made a remark that set some of his fellows laughing. The others glanced incuriously and walked away. Once they had rounded the corner and disappeared, Jack let her go with a sigh.

“I thought you
wanted
to kiss me. That was all for show?” she asked as she straightened her dress. She couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice.

“Your last words to me were ‘stay away.’ I
did
want to kiss you, but I wasn’t sure you’d let me. Their arrival served as good an excuse to risk it, as any.” There was hurt in his voice, too.

“Jack, I….”

“Not now, love.” He kissed her lips again, gently this time. “We can’t stay here. There are more of them coming. I fear they are your cousin’s men. Let’s put aside our hurts for now.”

“I thought it must be him. Have you followed me into a trap?”

“Oh, I expect so. I saw men stationed throughout the area on my way in. How well did you know your coachman?”

“Not very.”

“Well, no matter,” he said cheerfully. “A trap, a jail, a tower. It’s all in day’s work for Gentleman Jack. I know a way out. A few blocks south, a few more west, and then the path lies clear. There may be fighting on the way. Stay close, stay out of it, and stay behind me. And trust me, Bella. I
will
get us through.”

“I do trust you. What can I do to help?”

“You’re an observant lass and you’ve got a cool head. You can be a second pair of eyes. I’ll deal with what is in front of us. You keep watch and warn me of any surprises coming from either side.”

“So I shall be the lookout.” She said it with a hint of pride.

“Just so. You’ll be the carrier for my Captain Hackum.” He grinned at her look of bewilderment. “It’s a canting term love. We’ll make kindred of you yet.”

She was about to ask what that meant, but the voices from earlier were returning their way.

“Not one of you idiots stopped to question them? God help you if you let her slip away,” an angry voice growled.

Jack checked his pistols and unsheathed his sword.

“Jack, how many pistols do you have?” she whispered.

“I always carry at least four. A brace at my side and one in each pocket. They are one shot each and difficult to reload when on the move.”

“Perhaps you should give one to me.”

“It’s not an easy thing to shoot a man, love.”

“I know that, Jack. I am not without skill.”

“That’s not what I meant, Bella,” he said, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, you’re going to need both hands free for what I have in mind.” He took her hand in his. His eyes were intent, his excitement palpable. “Ready, love?” he whispered.

Dear God, he is enjoying this.

She nodded solemnly, and he grinned and ruffled her hair.

~

Jack looked at her with pride. She sounded steady and determined, though her eyes were wide with fear. He didn’t blame her. He was worried, too, but it wouldn’t help for her to know it. “Remember, we have outplayed your cousin Robert before and had a fine time doing it.
We
own the night, Bella. They are just intruders.”

He pulled his scarf up to the bridge of his nose and grabbed her by the wrist. “Come!”

~

The next few minutes were a blur of sound, motion, and whirling images. Pushed, pulled, lifted and swung, stopping suddenly then darting just as quick—at times all Arabella heard was the sound of her own labored breathing and the thundering of her heart as they ducked and weaved, snaking through alleys and darting down side streets. Then, out of nowhere, there were curses and shouting, hard angry faces, the flash of swords and the shriek and clang of metal on metal...but always there was running and always there was Jack.

If she tripped he had her elbow, when they stopped, his hand rested easy on her shoulder, when they sprang forward he encouraged her with a hand on her back. They made their way back to where the coach had been set upon, heading south and west to London proper. The houses were closer packed here, leaning precariously into the street at least three stories high. Some people stopped to watch, but most just stepped aside. Brawls in the street were an everyday occurrence and most knew not to get involved.

Torches bobbed behind them, their eerie glow pursuing them like hunting hounds, bounding off brick, timber and stone, chasing them deeper into the dark—conjuring misshapen shadows that loped alongside and ahead. As the streets closed about them like a canyon, Arabella feared they were running into a trap. She could see men closing in on both the left and right. Jack just nodded when she pointed them out, his attention fixed on a small green at the far end of the road.

A group of men were waiting, standing in a pool of light beneath a cresset. As soon as they spotted their quarry they stepped out and came toward them, swords drawn, moving quickly and without caution, sure of their bulk and numbers. Arabella clung to Jack’s hand. They were surrounded, with no place left to run.

“We’re nearly through, love. I’ll have you home in time for supper,” he said as if reading her thoughts.

She marveled at his audacity, though it sounded as though he believed it, and then her blood ran cold. Among the men fast approaching was the scar-faced man.

“Jack,” she tugged on his sleeve. “I think that one is their leader. He said they meant to kill me.”

“I see him, Bella.” Jack pushed her into a recessed doorway. “I’m going to draw them off. When I tell you, I want you to run to the green at the end of the road. I’ll be right behind you.”

“But they are coming from every direction. I count at least a dozen. You want me to leave you behind?”

“There are just these four between us and where we need to go. We’ll be gone before the others get here. I need you to trust me, love.”

The four men were almost upon them and before she could answer Jack sprang forward, leaping high, catching a large bearish man with a boot to the head that sent him flying backwards to crumple against the wall. Jack landed in a fighting stance, his blade drawn, and shouted at her to run.

Arabella hesitated for only a moment. She wished she had thought to bring her sturdy walking stick instead of the now useless pistol. A shot rang out, alerting the men behind them and saying a quick prayer she ducked out from the doorway and started to run.

“Get her!” one of the men cried as she darted past them.

“She’s got nowhere to go. Finish him first, and then we’ll do for her,” the scar-faced man growled.

Another shot rang out, a puff of fire and smoke in the darkness, followed by a pained grunt as Jack grabbed the shooters wrist with one hand, and slammed him in the temple with the hilt of his sword. The weapon clattered to the ground, followed a moment later by its owner as the two other men advanced on Jack and more came on the run. Arabella kept looking back over her shoulder as the three of them fought a running battle up the street.

When she saw Jack push the scar-faced man’s sword to the right with an elbow, and the glint of flashing steel as he stabbed with his own, she knew they were going to make it—and then she ran into the wall.

“Damn it, Arabella are you all right?” he shouted, hauling her to her feet.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she gasped. “Just scraped and bruised.” The last of the men Jack had been fighting had collapsed in a heap and lay moaning in the middle of the road. “There are more of them coming. We’ve hit a dead end. There’s nowhere left to go.”

“Bella,” he said in a chiding tone, looking at her with a wide grin. “The night is young. I’m going to take you places you’ve never been and show you London as few have ever seen her.”

Their pursuers were nearly upon them, including some constables, who, seeing a man running with his face covered had joined in the chase. Jack grabbed Arabella by the front of her coat, pulled her close, and kissed her. Letting her go he jumped, easily hooking the top of the wall and pulling himself up to crouch upon it. He held out his hand, and asked her the same question he had the night they first met. “Miss Hamilton. Pretty Bella. Will you come adventuring with me?”

His eyes danced with laughter and she laughed in return, suddenly filled with an exhilarating bravado. She gave him her hand. “Yes, Jack. I will.”

Arabella should have been terrified, but she was in the grip of something liberating and wild. The last time she’d felt this fierce joy was when she’d braved the tower descent and galloped across the moors with Jack. She turned to him with a wide grin, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

He thought she was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen.

They edged carefully along the top of the wall to a place just beneath the small balcony of an adjacent house. Jack caught a pilaster one-handed and swung easily up to the second story, then he pulled Arabella up beside him. On the third, he made a foothold for her with his hands and boosted her up on to the slanting roof. A second later he was there beside her. Arabella looked in awe at a moonlit world. With no trees or buildings to block the view, all London lay spread before them, a jostling silvery sea of chimney stacks and church steeples stretching to the broad gleaming band of the moon-washed Thames and beyond.

“It rather takes one’s breath, doesn’t it?” His voice was hushed.

“Yes it does.”

A hue and cry from below told them they’d been spotted.

“And now the fun begins,” Jack said, turning to her with a smile. “Up this roof and over the next, and on we go, until we get you home. Just don’t look down.”

As he helped her up the shingled roof Arabella tried to ignore the shouting and milling behind them, but with one foot over the peak, her eyes were inadvertently drawn below. The sight of the cobbles gleaming menacingly so far beneath her made her dizzy. She slipped and lost her balance, staggering down the roof as she strove to regain her footing amidst a shower of loose slate. She landed upright and on her feet but then she tripped on the gutter and fell. Jack threw himself full length and caught her by the waist just as her back struck the edge.

They lay there in shocked surprise, gasping for breath as the stars wheeled overhead. A moment later, the shouts of their pursuers turned to curses and cries of alarm as a hail of sharp rock rained upon them and shattered on the street below.

Arabella’s lungs were heaving and her heart was hammering as if it were desperate to escape her chest. She gave a weak chuckle. “I really don’t like heights you know.”

Jack gave her a tight hug. “Yes, I remember. It really would be better if you didn’t look down.”

His voice was calm, reassuring, but she could feel his heart pounding beneath her cheek, nearly as fast as her own. She wished that he would kiss her again. She wished that she could just lie there, looking up at the sky, safe in his arms forever, but a moment later he was up on his feet. It was time to move on.

“Wait! Hold on to me, Jack. I need to take this damned petticoat off first.”

His grin flashed in the moonlight as he obligingly wrapped his arms around her waist.

Leaning back against him, she cursed in a very unladylike manner as she struggled to shimmy out of the voluminous material.

“Take your time, love.”

“Damn you, Jack! You are enjoying this.”

“It’s true. I’ve always dreamt of making love to an angry spinster under a full moon.”

Her involuntary chuckle overbalanced her and she clutched at his arm, but his hold was strong and sure.

“Don’t worry. I won’t drop you. Are you finished?”

“Almost. Have you a dagger?”

“Ah, for your skirt. That’s an excellent idea. But I’ll do it. Hold on to my shoulders.” He knelt on one knee and began cutting away her hem just below the knee. When he was done he tossed her petticoats over the ledge and watched with a smile as they floated demurely away on the evening breeze.

The next house was just over a yard away, and though its roof was flat, it was a good five feet lower. Jack maneuvered around a hot chimney stack. “I’ve taken this route before, sweetheart. The first two are the worst.” He took her hand to help her. “It gets easier after that,” he added, responding to her low moan.

After first making certain she was steady on her feet, he leapt across the narrow chasm, landing on his outspread fingers and the balls of his feet, as agile and easy as a cat. He turned and motioned to her. “You see? ’Tis as easy as playing scotch-hoppers. Keep your eyes on me and jump, Bella. I will catch you.”

She hesitated on the edge of the precipice.

“Trust me.”

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed her fear—and then she took a leap of faith.

He caught her with a grunt as the force of the collision knocked him onto his back. He leapt up with an easy laugh and hauled her to her feet. His eyes were bright with pride and his smile gleamed in the dark. “Bloody hell, Arabella! You’re worth ten of any partner I’ve ever had. Not a one of them would have dared to make that jump.”