She suddenly looked stricken, as if she hadn’t meant to voice her thoughts aloud.

  “I mean…” she floundered.

  “Your marital issues aren’t my concern, buttercup,” I assured her, taking a peek inside the box. The pair of pearl-handled pistols peeked back at me. Beautiful. Expensive.

  “Very nice,” I murmured. I didn’t have the time to coo over the intricate artistry, but I certainly would later in private. “Now, your jewelry—”

  “Take me with you!”

  I blinked. Of all the things I expected to hear from the rich, pampered lady I was currently robbing, that wasn’t anywhere on the list.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Take me with you,” she repeated more forcefully. “Please. I cannot go through with this marriage. This could be my chance! My uncle and Lord Farrelworth would believe you have kidnapped me for ransom. Take me somewhere that I might secure passage far away from here. Please.”

  “Miss!” The maid let out a horrified gasp.

  I had almost forgotten about the poor servant girl I was holding at gunpoint. Countess Edmunton looked at her with a pained expression.

  “You know the rumors as well as I, Charlotte. Any wife of that man is as good as dead. I simply must find a way out of this.” Her words tumbled over one another as she continued rapidly, “I have heard tell of highwaymen doing this sort of thing. You must return to my uncle and tell him I have been kidnapped. I shall disappear and be free of this marriage.”

  The countess was far too excited for my liking, and I narrowed my eyes.

  “Why on earth would I agree to this?” I interjected before she could get ahead of herself. I had no intention of taking a captive. For one, it meant we would be hunted far more ruthlessly than before and, for another, it wasn’t part of the plan. We had strayed further from our usual hunting grounds, and we had a long way home. Deviations were not on my agenda.

  “Are you not a gentleman? Would you not aid a lady in peril?” Her big brown eyes widened beseechingly. I imagine many men had fallen prey to this woman’s wiles in the past, but I wasn’t so easily swayed. As pleasant as she was to look at, I had a job to do.

  “I believe I am currently the peril, countess.” I wiggled the pistol at her. “What would even be in it for me?”

  “My jewels, of course, and perhaps you can find a way to secure the ransom even when I am gone. Two even, if you are a clever man.”

  “Two ransoms?” I looked between her and her maid. “No offense, my lady, but no one will pay for the maid.”

  The red-haired girl in my grip squeaked in fear at the notion she was to be brought along on the countess’ ill-planned adventure.

  “I am still speaking of myself,” Countess Edmunton snapped. “My uncle would pay and so would my would-be husband. Two very rich men without an ounce of sense between them.”

  Behind my mask, my eyebrows shot up. Those big doe eyes hid the mind of a wily little fox, it appeared.

  The gears in my mind whirled.

  A countess’ ransom would be a huge dent in my debt. Double that, plus today’s score… I could be free.

  I hadn’t dared to think of freedom so directly in a long time. Hope was a dangerous thing. I exhaled slowly, trying to calm my thundering heartbeat. I couldn’t afford to pass this up. Not when freedom was so close that I could taste it on the tip of my tongue.

  “Very well,” I said grinning under my mask. This girl had no idea what she’d just done. “I believe you have yourself a deal, Countess.”

  “One moment,” she said leaning forward, her brows pinched in concentration. “You will deliver me safely to somewhere I may flee. And you will let my companions go unharmed.”

  “You make a lot of demands for a captive.”

  “I am not your captive yet,” she said irritably.

  “Oh yes you are, buttercup. You made a convincing argument. Time to go.” I reached for the door, dragging the unfortunate maid with me.

  “Wait! Do you agree to the terms?”

  I could’ve laughed. The fool had just convinced me that she was worth her weight in gold twice over, and she still thought she could bargain. More amusing, she thought the highwayman robbing her blind could be trusted. Had I been this naïve at her age? Surely not. It wasn’t all that long ago. Although, I had lived far more lives in my twenty-five years than this pampered countess could ever dream of.

  “Does it matter?”

  I pushed the maid out of the carriage and gestured with my pistol for the countess to follow. When she stepped down, I took hold of her arm.

  “Must you?” she hissed. I almost relaxed my already loose grip, thinking I had hurt her, but I then realized she was wincing at the grubbiness of my gloves on her fine silks.

  I rolled my eyes. These people.

  “Do you want this kidnapping to be convincing or not?” I pointed my pistol at the maid once again. “And not a word of this. Do you understand?”

  “Please, Charlotte,” Countess Edmunton implored. “You know how much I wish to flee from this. Please, as my friend, allow me this. I can see no other way out.”

  The two young women stared at each other until the maid— Charlotte, the countess had called her—nodded, tears flooding her eyes.

  I cleared my throat pointedly.

  “How touching. Charlotte, be a dear and retrieve your mistress’ shoe that she so kindly threw at my head. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

  I relieved the countess of her jewelry while the girl scampered to retrieve the wayward shoe. Her rings and jeweled hairpins, she gave up easily but she hesitated when it came to the small golden locket she wore.

  “May I keep—”

  “No.” I yanked it from her neck, making her cry out, and stuffed it into the cloth sack that held the rest of the spoils.

  “Do not hurt her!” The maid was back, shoe in hand. Her defiant glare flailed as I snatched the shoe and shoved it into the countess’ hands.

  “I haven’t hurt her and nor will I if everyone behaves themselves. Now be silent.”

  The two of them exchanged another look and a shake of the head as if they were having a full, wordless conversation. Charlotte’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Whatever debate they’d just had, her mistress had won—as she no doubt did every time. Some people just had that air about them that said they were used to getting their way, and this young countess was most definitely one of them.

  “I know what I am doing,” Countess Edmunton whispered to her maid.

  I hid my smirk.

  No, you really don’t.

  When I towed the countess to the front of the carriage, the fool decided to try and play up her part.

  “Help me!” she cried out in a shrill, painfully false voice. “Help me from these evil men!”

  I clamped my hand over her mouth.

  “What do you think you’re doing, foolish girl?” I hissed in her ear. “Shut up!”

  This time she screamed for real through the leather of my glove as she struggled against me.

  The footman moved to stand and protest, but Young Charlie—a more unsavory member of my crew—sent him sprawling with a well-placed kick. I cringed internally. The poor man had to be in his sixties at least.

  “What took you so long?” Charlie snapped.

  “Making new acquaintances,” I shot back with a smile that was more like bared teeth, daring him to say another word. “The countess is coming with us.”

  “No!” the footman cried out in alarm.

  Charlie shoved his pistol directly against his forehead.

  “Wanna keep your tongue? Then shut it!” he warned.

  The rest of my rag-tag crew knew better than to question me, especially in the middle of a job, though their eyes shifted with uncertainty. I had been so forceful with my planning and hounding them to stick to it rigidly, and now I was the one going rogue. I silently willed them to simply shut up and go along with it.

  “We’ll be in touch with our demands. She won’t be harmed,” I assured the group as I gestured for Charlotte to join the footman and the driver on the ground. She did so with tears still streaming down her face.

  I pushed the countess towards our horses that dutifully stood silent in their hiding place in the shadows. We would let the carriage’s own horses free to buy ourselves some time. They were too burdensome to take with us along with our own mounts. Compared to our own horses, the ones pulling the carriage were a sturdier but slower breed—good for pulling loads but terrible for fleeing the scene of the crime.

  I steered my surprise captive towards my chestnut-colored horse, resisting the urge to tarnish the fearsome image I was portraying by giving him a pat on the nose like I usually would.

  “Not a word. Get on the horse.”

  Countess Edmunton looked at me with a tinge of real fear for the first time. Whatever stain she had used on her plump lips was smeared across her cheek from where I had grabbed her. Under her hat, her hair was coming loose without its jeweled pins to hold it. It was most likely dawning on her what kind of person she had just made a deal with. But there was no turning back for her now.

  She opened her mouth but quickly shut it again as I took a threatening step towards her. Her gown made clambering up onto the horse difficult, but she turned her nose up at my offer of assistance and settled herself as best she could.

  The crew finished up by binding the three remaining staff together—loose enough that they could wriggle free but cumbersome enough to give us plenty of time to disappear with our spoils.

  I swung myself up behind the countess. She was not dressed for riding, and her cheerful yellow gown bunched awkwardly around us both. As it was, she had to sit sidesaddle and, with me sitting astride behind her, she may as well have been sitting on my lap. I ground my teeth together at the thought. She was undeniably attractive and, when strands of her thick black hair tickled my face where it was uncovered by my mask, I struggled not to lean forward to breathe the sweet scent of her hair oil in more deeply. It had been far too long since I was intimate with anyone and, as we set off at a jostling pace, the countess’ pert backside rubbing against the inside of my thighs was almost too much to ignore.

  With our close contact, it was impossible for the countess to not notice certain other things as well.

  She gasped as she bumped against my chest and felt what my loose clothing hid so well.

  “You are a woman!”

  Chapter Three

  The Countess

  My mind was racing. I could hardly believe that I had escaped my cursed marriage after all. I wanted to cry and laugh with relief, but the chaotic nature of my flight had me fisting my hands in my skirts as the horse under me charged through paths seemingly only the rider at my back could see. She urged the horse onwards as if wild beasts were nipping at our heels. The thundering hoofbeats were making me nauseous.

  Or was my queasiness something my aunt had passed on before I left? The familiar thrill of panic started up in the back of my mind. My fingers instinctively quested to where my gold locket should have been resting against my chest. I clenched my fist when I remembered it had been so callously ripped from me.

  My aunt is sick. She could be dying. She could have passed it to me. Am I going to die? Is she? What if she has passed already?

  Despite our differences, I did still care for my aunt and uncle. We used to be a happy semblance of a family when I was much younger. My parents both died when the vicious plague swept through the city, and even those out in the country estates like my aunt and uncle had been fortunate to escape its bite. They had no children of their own and took me on with enthusiasm when I had been found alive, hale and healthy in the care of our cook, the bodies of my parents still slumped in their bed in our elegant townhouse.

  But that enthusiasm only lasted while I was small enough not to have my own voice. As soon as I showed signs of being anything more than a pretty doll to parade around, I was deemed troublesome. Marrying me off was just the latest in a long line of their attempts to force me into the perfect mold they had created in their minds.

  The great plague hit the city so quickly. It could happen again. It could already be happening again.

  I forced myself to take a breath. If I did not want to lose myself to those thoughts, I needed distraction and it just so happened that I had a fascinating one right at hand.

  I tried my best to twist and scrutinize this mysterious woman’s face under her leather mask, but the breakneck speed at which we were riding made it impossible. All I could make out was a stray lock of straw-colored hair that had escaped the wide-brimmed hat that cast her masked face in shadow. I shuddered. Masks—any mask—made me think of those the doctors wore when the plague was rife. This outlaw was no doctor, of course, nor did her mask look anything like those beaked harbingers of death, but it seemed my nerves were determined not to be soothed by reason.

  The doctors carried the stench of death with them and even the scant reminder had my skin crawling. The highwaywoman behind me did not smell of death. Only the earthy scent of the outdoors tinged with sweat and leather. She was a head taller than I, with broad shoulders and no trace of a waist though that could have been part of her masculine illusion and ill-fitting clothing. I truly would never have guessed she was a woman until I pressed up against her.

  Her mask prevented me discerning any of her features other than the eyes—a deep stormy gray—which scowled at me in thorough annoyance.

  “Stop moving about. You’ll upset the horse.” My pretend captor made a tutting sound with her tongue. “Surely a lady such as yourself has ridden before?”

  “Of course I have. Albeit under far different circumstances. Who are you?”

  She did not answer me, but I supposed that was fair. She wore a mask, after all. Clearly, she did not want her identity to be known.

  “I apologize for my directness. I would simply never have presumed that a woman…”

  I trailed off and shook my head to clear my thoughts. I was going to drown in overwhelming thoughts and sensations if I did not begin with the basics.

  “What is your name?” I asked.

  “You don’t need to know my name or anything about me.” Her voice was a low growl. Perhaps I truly had offended her.

  “But what shall I call you, then?”

  “I don’t actually foresee a situation where you need to speak at all, buttercup.”

  “There is no need to be rude,” I replied tersely. “And you do know my name so do not call me “buttercup”. You may address me as Countess Edmunton or simply as my lady.”

  I received only a scoff as a reply.

  That is fine by me. These ruffians are a means to an end, after all. Their manners, or lack thereof, mean nothing to me.

  I managed to stay quiet for a time before another thought occurred to me. I scolded myself for not thinking of it sooner. We had negotiated my fleeing from the carriage but not where this bizarre woman and her band of cutthroats were actually going to deliver me.

  “Where are we headed?”

  I felt her groan more than I heard it. “Are you incapable of being quiet?”

  “Are you incapable of being civil?” I shot back. “I need to know where you are taking me so I can think about what to do next. Also, we must not venture too close to Worcester as I fear I may be recognized should we run into anyone.” I squinted into the trees. One patch of road looked very much like another. “If that is indeed the direction we are headed.”

  I had frequented the larger town plenty of times socially, especially for horse racing. It was not unlikely that some acquaintance or other of mine would be about town on a fine day such as this. But then again, should I not be wishing to call upon the aid of friends at a time like this?

  I paused. “I have been dreaming about running away so much I did not think I could actually do it. I…I am afraid I find myself quite unprepared.”

  Who do I dare call upon?

  No names immediately sprang to mind. I had dozens of acquaintances, plenty with whom I had spent evenings of dancing and drinking, but precious few in whom I could confide a secret such as this. Only Charlotte.

  She was always the first to try and convince me not to sneak out to the lavish parties and the only one I would accept scolding from the following day when my mouth felt like sand and my head pulsed. The people at those parties were not my friends, and I did know that deep down. They were just a means to enjoy an evening somewhere other than trapped in my own mind. A means to overindulge and try and glean a scrap of fulfilment before I was inevitably married off and my life was over.

  Oh, how I wish Charlotte was here with me now.

  She was endlessly practical where I was not. She would know how to sustain one’s self.

  Unlike me. I would need to find assistance from somewhere.

  I would have to stay with an acquaintance somewhere in the short term, I decided. This plan had been far too hasty. I needed some days to compose myself and make my formal plans.

  “I suppose I shall have to find some sort of employment.” I crinkled my nose. The thought of any kind of labor was unappealing to say the least and I had next to no skills, but I could rely on my as-yet-unchosen acquaintances’ goodwill for only so long until my uncle tracked me down and took me home again. No, the safest thing for me was to gather my wits and then travel as far away as possible. I could cross into the next county…I could cross the seas! Oh goodness, I could truly go anywhere.

  “Where would you go if you could go anywhere in the world?” I asked my mysterious companion.

  “It does one no good to dwell on dreams,” she responded, so quietly I almost didn’t catch it.

  “I am not asking for your dreams.” I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “I am asking for practicality. As inspiration of where I should go. Are you well-travelled?”

  “Prying where you shouldn’t is dangerous for your health, buttercup.”

  I blinked. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Merely reminding you.”

  “I also told you not to call me buttercup.”

  I felt her shrug against me. “It suits you.”