“No, I just—” I tried to pull back, but he squeezed in warning until I relented. As much as my arms had thickened with muscle over the years of hard labor, I was no match for him.

  “You cut yourself out of this job the moment you decided to go rogue. All jobs get approved by me. All. You’re lucky I’m not stripping you of your position after this.” He sneered. “I still will if we don’t get any coin for the girl.”

  I swallowed, not trusting myself to speak.

  “You seem to be forgetting your place here lately. I own you. I always will,” he growled, low enough that only I could hear him. “If I could be bothered, I’d blacken your eyes but you’re not worth dirtying my knuckles.”

  He released me with a jerk that sent me careening into the table. As I tried to regain my balance, his meaty fist sank into my gut. I collapsed to my knees, wheezing.

  I should’ve expected this.

  I’d been on the receiving end of his fists plenty of times before, the same as every single member of the troupe. It was almost a rite of passage for your blood to be splattered across his threshold as you left limping after being put in your place. It just hadn’t happened to me for a long time. I’d gotten complacent. He was right. I’d forgotten my place here. I had dared to dream of being something more than a damned lackey.

  Fang straightened up and looked down his nose at me.

  “Bea here has some ambitions!” he called, cruelly raising his arms to attract attention from every man within earshot. A few more faces appeared at the door I’d left open when I’d so carelessly flounced in. “You all heard her. She wants to call the shots. Isn’t that right? You want to be king, little girl?”

  Even if I wanted to protest, I was still reeling from the vicious punch to the stomach. I could only watch as he lifted his goblet from the arm of his chair and upended it over my head. My face burned to the sound of jeers and whoops of the rest of the men as I blinked sour wine from my eyelashes.

  A storm of feelings tore into my insides.

  Waves of laugher crashed over me, drowning me in insults and the same old mockery that I’d endured for years. The memory of past humiliations pushed me deeper until—

  Something in me snapped.

  I was past angry. Past furious. Past all of it to some plane where cool calmness washed over me. I would do this no more. I’d submit to this no more. I’d fear him no more. Whatever he said, this ransom was my last job.

  That money is buying me my freedom, and he can damn well choke on it.

  I knelt where I was, still gasping for breath and dripping wine, as he dropped the empty goblet to the floor in front of me. I tried and failed to not flinch.

  “Get out of my sight.”

  I staggered to my feet, clutching my aching stomach and trying not to vomit.

  “Oh, and Bea?”

  I turned just in time for him to blow smoke from his pipe straight in my face.

  “Don’t come in here without an invitation ever again.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Countess

  I was going to run. I had to run.

  This captivity had given me a glimpse of what the rest of my life might look like locked away from the world, but this was at least temporary. I would be free of this cabin one way or another. If I were to become Lady Farrelworth, however, I would never make it out alive.

  I had made up my mind, but the certainty of it brought me no comfort. My idle hands trembled with anxiety. When I tried to lay on the bed, I tossed and turned. When I tried to sit, my leg jittered and bounced up and down of its own accord. I ended up pacing the length of the small cabin for hours.

  Tales of Lord Farrelworth’s cruelty played over and over again in my mind. I could not know for certain which of them were true, the likelihood that here must be some grain of truth in there had my palms perspiring.

  His first wife’s death was not an accident, of that I was sure. Trickles of stories had been around for years that the poor woman had danced with death at his hands more than once. Suspicious falls, illnesses with no doctor being allowed in to see her, vague excuses for absences. Everyone in our society knew that he was a cruel man—he had beaten a servant half to death in broad daylight over some misplaced cufflinks—but not one said a word.

  That is what would become of me if I allowed myself to be returned to my family, or worse, delivered to his doorstep already beholden to him for paying for my safe return.

  I shall be expected to show my gratitude for the rest of my miserable life.

  I daubed my forehead with cold water from the refilled bucket. If I let myself get too overwhelmed by these thoughts, I would give away my intentions to flee. After Bea had played the lullaby for me last night, she had let me sleep unbound and, although she still slept next to me and the door was securely locked and bolted, it was one step closer to my goal. Getting the key from her was another question entirely. I now knew which pocket she kept it in, but I had never picked a pocket before.

  A week ago, the notion of me stealing would have been absurd, but here I am seriously considering the best way to go about it. My goodness.

  I decided that I would simply have to make the most of it if an opportunity presented itself. I would lull the highwaywoman into a false sense of security and steal it right out from under her nose and run as fast as I could. I would not stop until I was far away from this dreadful place. Until I was far away from it all.

  A twinge of guilt halted my pacing mid-step. The more time I spent with her, the less awful I found Bea to be. She had played so beautifully the previous night. That music had come from somewhere deep in her soul, and the melody had obviously meant something to her.

  And she shared that with me. To comfort me.

  The twinge in my chest grew. She would suffer if I ran. That hideous excuse for a leader, Fang, had said something about my ransom becoming her responsibility. Not only that. She would surely face punishment if she lost me.

  “Stop it,” I growled at myself. “You owe her nothing.”

  I could regret her misfortunes when I was far away—safe and free. I would also regret that I never did see her face. I had imagined what it might look like during the long hours I was shut up in this cabin. She would not be beautiful, I decided. That would be too cruel of this world to make her both fascinating and beautiful while making her so brutish. But perhaps she was more a handsome sort of woman.

  She had let me touch her hair. Maybe if I closed my eyes, she would let me touch her face and feel the contours of what she looked like. I would run my fingertips over her cheeks and along her jaw. Her lips.

  That now familiar tight, hot feeling sprang up in my lower belly. These cursed feelings could no longer be blamed on the stress of my kidnapping. I squeezed my eyes shut to mutter a prayer. This was another clear sign that I must run.

  Whatever this is, whatever I am feeling—I must escape far away from this madness.

  When I found my freedom, a long stay at the seaside for fresh air and clarity would do me good. I would carve out a new life full of wonders and adventure and love and never wonder about a highwaywoman’s lips ever again.

  The slamming of the cabin door shattered my romantic illusions as the object of my thoughts stalked in. Her shoulders were hunched and she brought with her a cloud that stank of sour wine.

  “You smell like a public house,” I declared, packing as much ire into my voice as I could. The urge to distance myself from any sort of affection for her was overwhelming. “Are you drunk?”

  “No, I’m not.” Bea rolled her eyes, but I still noticed her cringe as she locked the door behind her. Once more, the key disappeared into the same pocket she always kept it in. “If you must know, I simply spilled some wine.”

  She stalked over to the messy shelves, made messier by my snooping, and yanked out a fresh shirt.

  “Close your eyes. I must change my clothes,” she barked.

  “You have seen me in my undergarments,” I said, jutting out my chin in defiance. “Twice now. I see no reason to grant you the privacy you deny me.”

  “I’m not in the mood for disagreements. Close your eyes or I shall make you.”

  “Oh for goodness—fine!”

  Fabric rustled as she shed her wine-drenched clothes. The temptation to peek was high. From the time spent pressed against her in the saddle, I knew that she had a body unlike any I had ever seen on a woman. I wanted to know what it truly looked like. She was already in a foul mood, but one little look could not hurt.

  I was still convincing myself to chance a look when a sharp intake of breath had my eyes snapping open anyway.

  She froze, eyes locked on mine, shirt gaping open. I could not help it. I glanced down.

  Her stomach was flat and ridged—as I had suspected. However, what caught my eye was the reddened blotch the size of a fist that glowed hot against the pale skin of her abdomen.

  Did someone hit her? Is she—

  All rational thoughts evaporated as I caught sight of her breasts. Rose-tipped, soft swells that heaved with her anger. My lips parted.

  “I told you to close your eyes,” Bea snarled, jerking the shirt closed.

  “Is it such a crime to look?” I croaked out a whisper.

  Whatever sparks had fluttered in my belly at the thought of her body now blazed into an inferno upon seeing it for myself.

  If I did not need to run before, I most certainly do now.

  As she glared at me, I remembered why I had looked in the first place. “You did wince though, did you not?”

  “Mind your own business.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  She scoffed. “No. We aren’t all as delicate as you. And I’ve warned you before about looking at me too closely.”

  “I could not help it.” I pouted. Then, an idea occurred to me. I should be trying to lull her into that false sense of security as I had planned. This was a perfect opportunity to stroke her ego a little. I shot her a twinkling glance. “Not that I am not curious.”

  She glowered at me from behind that hideous mask but I continued, biting my lip. “I would never have expected a woman could have as much strength as you do.”

  Her lips twitched and hands balled into fists as if to stop herself from physically preening.

  “It’s just part of the life I lead.”

  “You wear it well.”

  “Stop your scheming. Whatever this is, stop it now.”

  I gave a dramatic sigh. Trying to interact with this woman was like trying to pet a skittish cat. Every time I pushed even slightly, her hackles went up.

  “Oh my goodness, Bea, can you just accept the compliment? Must we be enemies?”

  “Yes,” she replied flatly as she stomped over to the stove to light it and boil the kettle.

  I expected some sort of soup or stew again for supper. After all, what could one possibly cook on that miserable little stove of hers? Perhaps these outlaws sometimes roasted meat on the bonfires outside like the uncouth ruffians they were. It would be too cruel to permit myself to dream of the lavish banquets I could expect at Farrelworth manor. If I ended up trapped there, then I would most likely never have an appetite again anyway.

  Supper was indeed soup. I ate in silence while Bea claimed to not be hungry. She did not even bother to remove her shoes and simply collapsed and stretched out on the bed instead with her hands tucked behind her head

  “Any news on when I can be expecting to be released from here?” I asked when I was finished.

  “You don’t need to worry about that. It’ll all be organized.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “You sound so enthusiastic at the notion. Home is better than your plan of wandering around with no destination or prospects.”

  “Anywhere is better than there.”

  “By that logic, here is better than there. Am I to understand that you’re enjoying this hovel, as you called it, more than your grand manor house?”

  “You are twisting my words.”

  “Because you make it so easy, buttercup.”

  “At least I will not have to endure you ever again,” I muttered as I crossed the room to throw myself onto the bed next to her.

  She pressed a hand to her chest in mock agony. “You wound me, dear Victoria.”

  “Ah, so you can say my name.”

  “It was never a matter of ability, merely desire.”

  Her words sparked a thought in me, and I gave in to temptation.

  “Speaking of desire…” I smirked at her. “Is Anabelle still cross with you?”

  “I don’t wish to speak about her.”

  “What shall we speak of then?”

  “How about nothing?” she suggested. “I told you I’m not in the mood. I’d prefer silence.”

  “Do you not wish to make the most of our time together?”

  “No, I wish to be rid of you as soon as possible and get my peace and quiet back.” She returned my glance with a grin that seemed too forced to be genuine. “Along with a nice heavy purse full of coin.”

  “Well, however much you regret it, you must suffer my company a while longer it seems. How shall you keep me occupied if you will not speak to me, hm? Shall I dance for you again? Shall we play games?”

  “I’ve no interest in playing games with you.”

  “Do you play games with Anabelle?”

  Her exhale sounded more like a groan. “You have no idea,” she said quietly.

  “Tell me.”

  She snorted. “Some things are not for delicate young ladies like yourself to know.”

  Had I not just been thinking of her lips? Did the sight of her nude body not rouse something in me?

  “I am not so delicate as you might imagine.”

  The air thickened.

  “Is that so?” She propped herself up on an elbow to look down on me, her eyes sparkling. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  I faltered. Alluding to it was one thing, saying it aloud was quite another. In truth, I was terribly inexperienced and we both knew that I was bluffing. My insides squirmed. I turned away from her so that she would not see my wince.

  “That’s what I thought. Stop trying to bait me, buttercup. I’m not interested in playing games of any sort with you. I don’t know what all this…” she paused, searching for the word, “…beguiling is about but I won’t fall for it. Whatever you want, forget it.”

  “All work and no play…” I readjusted myself and nuzzled into the pillow, peeking over at her, making my eyes as big and innocent as I could manage.

  “It must be such a hardship to be you.”

  “Is this the part where you tell me to be grateful for what I have because others have more misfortune than I?”

  “Something like that.”

  We lay in silence for a while.

  “Will you play your fiddle for me again?” I asked hopefully. The soft, sweet music would do wonders to ease the knot in my stomach.

  “No. Last night was a bargain for your good behavior for the rest of the time you are here.” She yawned. “Treasure the memory because, as I see it, there’s nothing else you have to offer me. Forget about the fiddle, countess, I won’t play again.”

  “I suppose I should say goodnight then.”

  “You’ll be home or with your future husband before you know it, Victoria,” she murmured. “Goodnight.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Highwaywoman

  I awoke to the soft click of the closing door. Grogginess weighed me down as I blinked, my brow furrowing.

  The door? The door!

  I shot upright, swearing viciously. Victoria was gone. I’d been so exhausted that damn girl had even managed to get my keys from my pocket without waking me.

  Fooled by her pretty face! Pathetic.

  My lip curled back in a snarl as I scrambled out of the bed and—

  “Ooft!”

  I only just managed to get my hands out in front of me to avoid smacking face-first into the floorboards. Glancing down, I let out a bark of laughter. The devious bitch had tied my shoelaces together.

  Just you wait until I get a hold of you, buttercup.

  Kicking the shoes off rather than waste time untangling them, I charged after her.

  My heart was in my throat.

  What if she was long gone already?

  By the time I tore through the cabin door, however, she’d only just reached the tree line. Dressed in the white shirt I had given her, she looked like a phantom in the darkness. My face split into a feral grin. I could close this distance, for sure.

  Oh, what I’m going do to her when I catch her…

  My mouth watering at the thought, I sped after her.

  For a pampered countess, Victoria ran faster than I’d have expected. If I’d been chasing her along a completely flat path, she may have even outpaced me since I was running barefoot. The forests, however, had been my domain for years. You had to know where to step and what to look for and she had no clue. She crashed through the undergrowth in a whirl of panic, tearing her clothes and slipping on wet leaves. A child could’ve followed her trail.

  She knows I’m coming for her. Good.

  Legs and arms pumping, I charged after her. So focused on the fleeing figure, I didn’t notice a low hanging branch until it whipped into my face, knocking my mask askew. I tore it off with a grunt and stuffed it in my pocket.

  The thrill of the chase coursed through my blood. I could’ve chased my prey all night through these dark forests, feasting on her panic as I gained on her. Every now and again, she let out a shriek when she caught a glimpse of me. It was music to my ears. It spurred me on. I wanted nothing more than to make her scream for me.

  Alas, it didn’t take long before the forest proved too much and she collapsed. Whether she’d tripped or the exertion had gotten to her, I didn’t know. Or care. I had her.

  As I drew up to my full height in front of her, she shuffled backwards, frantically looking for some escape.

  “Just stop,” I said, my breathing labored. The sprinting had taken more out of me than I liked to admit.

  “I will not go back. I will not marry him!”

  She seized a rock and threw it at me. Just like with the shoe, her aim was off and it clattered harmlessly against a tree.