The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons (32 page)

Sam chewed a thumbnail. “Am I shot of him? Truly?”

Jed laughed. “‘Tis been deadly dull without him these past three weeks.”

Hanged if he’d admit agreeing with his cousin. “Quiet, it is.”

Jed’s eyes gleamed as he sat back and propped a forearm on his bent knee. “Thought you didn’t care for quiet. There’s Sally and all.”

Sam just shook his head, and Jed sobered, looking off over the mountaintops. “Appears whatever quiet we might have is soon at an end, anyway. With the way my father has been pestering us to give more time to the militia back home… and the Crown’s officials have become too bold by half. First it was the Stamp Act, then they renewed the tax on tea… now they want to restrict the import of gunpowder? Best we look to our own stores and rifles, no mistake.” He picked up a pebble and threw it. “But it might have been fun to be in on the destruction of the tea in Boston, don’t you think?”

Despite himself, Sam chuckled. “It might indeed, if we’d been up north at the time.”

His cousin grinned again. “Speaking of chucking things, I’m surprised you didn’t toss the Highwayman’s chest in the river after we left Staunton.”

“Tempting, that.”

He still could. Except… except he’d left Sally that note. Nearly promised to see her again, and not as himself.

Could he really follow through on that? He wanted to, oh, he wanted to. He’d never dreamed how easy it could be to speak with her.

If only he could be sure his intervening that night hadn’t caused her and the family more trouble.

A sudden longing to see her rose up and gripped him by the throat.

“How far are we from Brewster’s?”

Jed stared at him for a moment before a slow smile stole across his face. “You know we’re still two days out. Even with fair weather.”

He couldn’t breathe for a moment for the strength of his need to know she was well.

“I can’t get there tonight, even on horseback… even if I could get a horse,” he heard himself say.

His cousin’s grin widened. “You can get one at tomorrow’s stop.”

An hour or two’s fast ride, he could be there by midnight. Perhaps.

Would he be able to rouse Sally and persuade her to come out?

His hands tightened around the stick he held. “What if she hates me when she finds out who I truly am?”

Jed laughed. “What if she doesn’t?”

He was the worst kind of fool for even contemplating it.

Chapter 6

C
ome to me by moonlight…”

Sally drifted in a dream where the moon hung unnaturally full and bright. A masked rescuer rode a splendid black horse and carried a shining sword, with a pair of pistols strapped to his waist. The horse’s hooves beat a steady tattoo on the hardened dirt of the road that ran past the inn, first galloping southward then north—

She startled awake.

Plink. Plink, plink.

What on
earth
?

Limbs trembling, she climbed from her bed and peered out the open window. A fat half-moon was just rising above the far trees, and—

At the edge of the stable yard, a shadowy figure stood, garbed in a full-skirted coat and plumed hat.

“Dear Lord in heaven!” It was an honest prayer. What should she do?

While she watched, he tossed something. Another
plink
sounded right next to her, making her flinch, and a pebble rolled across her floor.

She scrambled for her shawl and leaned out the window. He sauntered forward until he stood just below her.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Good evening, lady.”

The timbre of his voice sent a shiver through her.
Oh Lord… I am such a fool.
“You are mad. Why are you here?”

His chuckle floated to her. “Mad, aye. But I have come to call on you. Did you receive my message?”

She clutched her shawl over her chest as if to keep her heart inside. “I did.”

“And? What is your reply?”

“I—” She gulped. “You are mad.”

“Aye, you said that once.” The laughter rippled through his voice, tugging at her again. “Will you come down?”

“Ah—give me a moment.”

She stepped back from the window and looked wildly around. It would be indecent to go out to him in a state of undress, but—oh, there was nothing for it. He’d just have to wait.

Her hands shook so badly she could hardly thread the lacing through the eye of the bodkin, or work the laces properly. It was the worst stays lacing she had ever done.

“This is madness.
I
am mad. Going out there to talk to—oh, Lord, help me?”

Her frantic whisper ended on a high-pitched squeak. She tied off the lacing, snatched up a petticoat and stepped into it. She probably had it backward, but no one would notice in the dark, especially with a bedgown thrown over and a shawl to top it off.

She tiptoed down the stairs, past the boys’ room and her parents’, down and past the kitchen and out the back door. Around the backside of the inn, and—

There, standing in the shadow of the stable.

She looked around. The stable yard was perfectly quiet, but that didn’t mean no one was watching. The moonlight wasn’t as bright as it could be, but the lightness of her shawl would give her away.

Ah well. She gulped a breath and strode across to him.

He met her at the edge of shadow. “You honor me,” he whispered.

She wrapped her shawl more tightly. “Why did you come?” She hadn’t meant to sound accusatory, but—she had to know.

“To see you.” He seemed to hesitate, though his features were completely unreadable with that mask under his hat. “Are you well?”

“I—am.”

“And your family? I was concerned that the magistrate’s whelp and his dogs would trouble you further.”

Oh, she wished she could see his face—and more of his eyes than a muted sparkle. His quiet fierceness warmed her in ways she dared not think about. “Nothing of any significance.”

It would do no good to tell him of the incident at the market.

He gazed steadily at her, as if he could see she was hedging. “Would you tell me if there was trouble?”

She swallowed at the protective growl to his voice. “Why does it matter to you?”

For a moment, he did not move. At last, with a long exhale, he extended a hand. “Walk with me to the orchard, sweet lady? Just under cover of the trees, no farther, I promise.”

With a nervous dip of her head, she put her hand in his, let him lead her.

If only this were real—she so wanted this to be real—

They stepped into full shadow, and he turned to face her but did not release her hand. “I had to know whether those brigands had returned. And then, of course, there was my note.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I all but promised you.”

His breath fanned her skin, and she shivered again.

“Are you cold?”

“N–nay.”

His thumb brushed across her knuckles, then his lips.

Oh, to feel them on hers again….

“You are very bold, sir,” she managed to get out.

He stopped, slowly straightened, released her hand, and withdrew. “You are right. I should not presume.”

Her heart had not ceased its racing. One of the apple trees provided a handy place to sink back against, for support.

She should go. She shouldn’t have ventured out here to begin with. Who was he, really, that he made her want to stay?

He wanted to laugh for the sheer joy of standing out here with her, moonlight filtering through the trees, but he forced himself to calm, mimicking her stance and leaning back, facing her… letting himself drink her in. She was almost unbearably lovely—the pale oval of her face framed by hair uncovered and braided across her shoulder, her neckline bare above the shawl.

But he had to tread lightly.

From the other side of the orchard, where he’d left it safely tethered in darkness, his horse snorted and stamped. He could just make out the widening of Sally’s eyes, then her smile. “A horse, hm? Well, that’s never been part of the Highwayman legend.”

“Oh?”

She laughed. “I asked my brothers what they could tell me about you. They’re quite enamored of your exploits.”

“Daft lads.” He couldn’t douse his grin. “And you don’t share their sentiments?”

Her chin tucked. “I did not—before.”

So completely fetching, the way she went all shy on him. “No? That makes you a sensible girl, I expect.”

She shot him a glance. Her laugh this time was brittle. “Nay, it makes me dull.”

Did she really think so? “I like sensible. And you are anything but dull.”

She made a sound, like a hiccup, and turned half away. “Stop. Please.”

“What?”

She didn’t respond, and when he took a step toward her, she slid farther away.

“What is it, sweet Sally?”

She twitched but did not look at him. “Do not—do not trifle with me. ’Tisn’t fair.”

His pulse stuttered at the catch in her voice.

“I should not have come out here. I should—”

“Please.” The word burst from him. “Do not leave. Not yet.”

She hesitated, looked back over her shoulder.

“I would never trifle with you,” he said.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, and he hardly breathed—then she eased back into place against the tree. “I want to believe you,” she said.

He fought the urge to fidget as she regarded him.

“Why me?” she asked, finally. “You could have your choice of girls all up and down the Great Road.”

Could he? The thought had never occurred to him. “I want—a sensible girl. One who doesn’t let herself be moved by wild tales.”

She chewed her lip. “You’re only saying that.”

“I am not.”

Her eyes widened a little at his vehemence, then narrowed. “Who are you? Truly?”

“I am—” He’d known questions such as this were a possibility. “I am no one. Truly. I was a foundling, and even now I am completely dependent upon others for my livelihood.”

Still she studied him. After a long moment, she sniffed. “As are we all. Dependent upon others, that is.”

His throat ached. Here was where he had to be honest with her. Prove that he was not merely toying with her affections.

“I have nothing to offer a lovely, sensible girl like yourself. I have nothing to offer any girl. Forgive me for—taking advantage last time we met. You deserve an honest courtship and not—not clandestine meetings at midnight.”

“And you could yet be saying that, simply to gain my trust.”

A valid point, but what more could he do to show her? One hand went to his hat. He could unmask himself, this moment, and reveal who he was. He should. If he truly loved her—

“Nay.” Sally spoke the word quietly, but with force, despite the tremor in her voice. “Don’t. Please.”

He stopped, peered at her.

She swiped a hand over her eyes. “I know it is selfish, but if I don’t know who you are… they can’t force me to tell them.”

Oh, sweet lass.
He settled the hat back into place. “So there
has
been trouble.”

Chapter 7

A
ye.” She could hardly keep her voice from shaking, but something about his concern brought it all spilling out of her. “Papa is afraid for me and says I’m to stay close to the inn. But two days past Mama needed me to go to the market… and Willie Brown was there.”

He took a step closer, but this time she had no urge to sidle away.

“There was no opportunity for aught but idle threats, but…” The breath she drew hurt. “I fear mostly for my family.”

“Can no one stand up to him? To the magistrate?”

She lifted a shoulder.

“If—” He wheeled away, pacing back and forth. “If all the men of the town stood together, perhaps…”

Sally snorted. “Most men are cowards, truth be told.”

He swung toward her, let out a long breath. “Aye. That we are.”

“I didn’t mean you!”

He shook his head. Another sigh. “Sweet lady, you have no idea.”

“But you…” How could he think himself so? “You faced all of Willie Brown’s gang. And they had pistols. And you’ve done”—she thought of all that Johnny had told her—“so many things, that no one else dares.”

“That is the Highwayman,” he murmured.

Words failed her. This strong, dashing man thought himself a coward?

“But… I still don’t understand.”

He kept silence so long, fiddling with the deep cuffs of his coat, she wondered if he would answer. Then, “I would explain if I could, but I may not. Yet.”

Oh, blast the tiny flame of hope kindling at that one word,
yet.
That meant—it meant he might see her again.

“You plan to tell me, then? At some point?”

His head lifted. Was that a slow smile on his lips? “Aye. I will tell you. I cannot promise how long that might take, however.” The smile faded, and he stepped closer. “Dare I hope that you would welcome the prospect of my calling on you again?”

She raised her chin. Sauciness seemed the only proper recourse here. It was that, or fling herself wantonly into his arms. “That, sir, depends upon how you comport yourself.”

He gave a breathy laugh. “I shall be the perfect gentleman, then.”

“I thought you said you were not a gentleman?” She couldn’t suppress her own chuckle.