The men paid him what they robbed in exchange for a small percentage and protection if they were caught.

  John deVille being proof of Preston’s long-reaching arm, even held in a mill in a village, he had been rescued.

  By her.

  Sebastian grabbed his cloak and hat and left the house. He didn’t have to wait for his driver and carriage as they were waiting there for him by his front gate. “Judge Whimsey’s,” he said, stepping into the carriage. The journey wouldn’t be long to the much larger manor house in Croydon. He wasn’t home in Surrey, but staying in Preston’s lair further west in Sutton. It wasn’t far.

  Charlotte’s father likely hired this lawman to keep his daughter out of trouble. He might be there with her now.

  A quarter of an hour later, the carriage pulled up to the front gate of a spacious house. There was a man at the front doors waiting for him.

  “Ah, John, my friend!” Sebastian sang, matching the happy spring in his step. “Is there magic at work here? Why, you have not aged a year!”

  The old man’s face broke into a wide grin. “Lord Surrey, this is unexpected. Do come in.”

  “Kind of you to offer, John,” Sebastian said, stepping inside. “Is Lady Charlotte in?”

  “Yes, my lord. She just finished breakfast and is in the sitting room with Detective Pendridge.”

  Sebastian paused and turned on the heel of his shoe. “The lawman?”

  “Aye, my lord,” John told him. It was a warning. The old butler knew of Charlotte’s goings on.

  “Excellent!” Sebastian looked down the hall. He knew where the sitting room was. “No need to announce me, John. I told her I would stop by sometime today. She’s expecting me!” Or, she should be. She had abandoned Preston with his wounded leg. Why? He was about to find out.

  He walked along the hall getting closer to the room. The door was ajar. She was laughing. He could hear her.

  He reached the entrance just as a man spoke, his voice heavy with amusement and desire.

  “What’s pleasing to me is—” He leaned in and spoke in a softer, quieter voice, something that made Charlotte turn a dozen different shades of scarlet.

  Sebastian cleared his throat and had a good look at the lawman, who had been talked about by his men, for the first time. Sebastian would admit the man had a dangerous look to him. He wore white hose and fitted black knee breeches on his long, muscular legs. Though he leaned his arse on the back of a chair, it was clear he was tall, about the same height as Sebastian. He wore a black, padded jacket across his broad shoulders and flat belly. His raven hair was pulled back into a queue, but much of it was loose and falling around his face.

  The way Charlotte glowed when she looked at him said much, as did how close she was standing to him, almost cradled between his legs. He was handsome. That much was obvious. She was taken with him.

  This could be much worse or better than he thought.

  “Lord Surrey!” Charlotte greeted and stepped away from her guest with a shocked looked on her face when she saw him. “What brings you?”

  “I was worried about you, my lady,” he said sweetly.

  “Worried?” she asked, wearing her most well practiced smile.

  “Some wonder where you are.”

  He caught her eyes flicking to the lawman.

  “Lord Surrey, let me introduce to you, Detective Michael Pendridge of York.”

  “Detective?” Sebastian asked, brows raised.

  “He’s an investigator,” she clarified while the detective stretched forth his hand.

  “Ah!” Sebastian declared. “How very interesting, Detective.” He accepted the lawman’s handshake and felt the strength in the stranger’s arm. “Are you investigating anything or anyone in particular?”

  “No, not in particular. Why? Do you have some suggestions?”

  Sebastian shook his head. Pendridge was emotionless. Unreadable. What lit the fire? He would find out. “You shot Lord Sutton in the leg.”

  “That’s right.”

  “May I ask what prompted such a reaction?”

  The detective looked between him and Charlotte.

  Ah, so it was Charlotte who lit the fire. Preston was competition.

  “I don’t like having a gun waved at me.”

  Sebastian chuckled. It was a good enough answer. Besides, he didn’t think the detective would answer anything more.

  “I’m having a party Saturday night,” Sebastian said to him. “Do come to my home in Surry for supper and stay the night. My other guests would love to meet you.”

  “Who are your other guests?” the detective asked. Odd, his gaze had a way of pinning Sebastian to his spot.

  “Oh, some barons, some viscounts—”

  “The detective is otherwise engaged Saturday night,” Charlotte interrupted, piquing his curiosity. “He cannot go.”

  “Doing what?” Sebastian asked, wondering how much he could get out of them.

  “Keeping Lady Charlotte safe,” the detective announced, his dark gaze on her. “I cannot go, so neither can she.”

  “I see,” Sebastian allowed. “Are these the wishes of her father?”

  “They are,” the lawman answered, switching his gaze back to him.

  They both had to be jesting. Charlotte seemed perfectly fine with it all, which was a first for her. She was never fine with anything her father wanted, mainly because he wanted it. Was Detective Pendridge holding her against her will? Wasn’t that what deVille thought when he shot at him? Why did they seem so close, so quickly? He wondered what Preston would think of this. If he told him.

  “Detective?” he asked, taking a seat and holding out his hand, waiting for a servant to fill it with a cup and some wine. “What do you know of the Horsemen?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  What was Sebastian doing, Charlotte wondered, glaring at him in her family’s sitting room? She glanced at John, hoping he had a way to dismiss the cocky baron. When he shook his head slightly, she sighed. What could she possibly say to sway Michael’s attention now?

  “Ohhhh!” she cried out clutching her belly.

  “What? What is it?” Michael grabbed hold of her and held her while she doubled over.

  “It must be something she ate, my lord,” Old John offered, hurrying to her.

  “Ohhh!” she cried out again. “Oh, I feel terrible. Call for the physician, John. Lord Surrey,” she managed, “we will have to cut our visit short. ’Twas good to see you. John, show Lord Surrey out. Detective, please help me to my room.”

  Michael didn’t bother to bid Sebastian good day. Charlotte didn’t think he would as he led her out of the sitting room.

  Her heart was thrashing. Her blood was racing through her veins. She did feel ill. She felt lightheaded and queasy. What was Sebastian about to tell Michael about the Horsemen? Why was he here? Had Preston sent him? Had it been Preston who had been worried about her? She wished she could have asked Sebastian, but it was best to get him out of the house before he said too much.

  “Do you need me to carry you?”

  She wanted to look up and smile at Michael. She didn’t need him to carry her. She wanted him to. “Perhaps,” she allowed in a weak voice.

  He swooped down and fit his arms under her knees and under her back. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing. In fact, he told her so.

  “You’re very light.”

  “You are very strong,” she countered and coiled her arms around his neck.

  “Are you feeling better?” he asked after a moment of staring into her eyes and seeing the truth there.

  She grimaced and rubbed her belly. “No, I’m afraid not.” She didn’t want to lie to him but she couldn’t let him know that it was all a ruse to get rid of Sebastian. Michael was clever. He would want to know why she wanted Sebastian gone when he began talking about the Horsemen. She wanted no ties to them.

  “I will carry you to your bed.”

  His voice played like a melody across her ears. Before Sebastian had interrupted them, Michael had been telling her how he’d stopped working out a few months ago and was letting himself go fat. She’d moved closer to him and boldly reached out to feel his belly. He had not gone fat. He was wonderfully firm. She had wanted to feel more of him. She didn’t think he would stop her, though he’d told her he hadn’t had time for women and had not been with one in six years. She wondered how he kept their hands off him. She wondered how she would keep her hands off him.

  “My turn,” he had teased and reached for her waist, wrapped tight in her stays. He had laughed and knocked on the stiff stomacher. “How do you breathe?”

  “’Tis not about breathing. ’Tis about looking pleasing.”

  “What’s pleasing to me is,” he had leaned in to whisper in her ear, in his deep, sensual, sorcerer’s voice, “feeling a woman’s skin beneath a veil of fabric, nothing thicker—or nothing at all.”

  “Will you carry me up the stairs then?” she asked him now.

  He smiled down at her. “Don’t think I can?”

  “Well, you have gone so fat.” She slipped one hand down his arm and almost sighed. No man’s arms she knew felt this hard, this thick with muscle. She would love to see them bare. She closed her eyes for an instant to imagine it. When she opened them again, she realized he was carrying her up the stairs. She remained absolutely still, trying to keep herself as light as possible in his arms. She could feel his heartbeat, fast and furious, his breath pulled a bit more.

  She looked into his eyes and lifted a brow at him. He took it as the challenge it was meant to be and hurried up the remainder of the stairs, delivering her to the top.

  “Well done, Knight.”

  He chuckled. “Why do you call me that?”

  “Because you behave as if you are one—to me, at least.”

  He was quiet for a moment, thinking something over in his mind. “Charlotte, do you believe in soul mates…like, people you are meant to be with?”

  She thought about her answer before she spoke it. She used to think it was true. That Preston was the man she was destined to be with. “I used to believe in it. But I do not anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  They reached her room and she leaned down to open the door. The bed was the first thing she saw. She had not thought this through. She was in her room, alone with him…and her bed. A lick of fire coursed through her.

  “I am feeling better, Michael,” she said in a quiet voice. “You can put me down here.”

  Was it just yesterday that it was so hard to see any emotion in him? He’d laid his hard, stoic exterior aside for her, and what she saw on the inside was so terribly beautiful that it made her forget to breathe. His heart poured out from his fiery eyes. He said nothing but set her down on her feet.

  She smiled. It was a shy smile. A real shy smile. She felt many of them when she was with him. “Thank you.”

  He looked at her, studying her, stripping her bare. What did he see? A terrified girl? A strong woman? A crafty thief? She couldn’t tell. His guard was up again.

  “I’ll be outside the door.”

  “Michael?”

  He turned to look at her. Her knees went weak. “I feel better.”

  “Oh?”

  “Aye.” What was she going to do here alone in her room all day?

  “Then I carried you up the stairs for nothing?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “For nothing? No! I was…I was sick then. No matter what I was feeling, Michael, I appreciate you doing that. I will think of it often,” she promised, blushing.

  “So will I,” he vowed quietly, his gaze fixed on hers as she walked slowly to him.

  They were still in her room, but she didn’t care. She didn’t stop walking when she reached him and pressed her body to his.

  Tilting her chin, she let her lips dangle beneath his for an instant, until he took her in his arms and ravished her mouth, her throat, and a bit beyond.

  She groaned softly at the scandalous heat flowing through her, making her want to strip naked and then strip him naked, too. No. She couldn’t give herself to him. What if she had his child and he had to throw her in prison? Did they allow you to see your child before you were hanged?

  Oh, but he kissed her so completely, consuming every part of her. His lips promised pleasures she could not imagine. She wanted to test his promise.

  Taking his lower lip between her teeth, she groaned into his mouth. His hands opened and slipped to her bottom. His broad hands pushed her into him while he broke free of her mouth and raked his teeth down her throat.

  “Michael…oh, stop.”

  He released her immediately and stepped back. He didn’t ask her why she wanted to stop. He knew why as well as she.

  She caught her breath and they exchanged a smile. “We must practice control.”

  “For our sakes,” he asked “or theirs?”

  She didn’t know, but they left her room together, resolved to stay strong against the other. As much as they tried not to, they laughed and teased each other on the way to the stairs.

  Where the judge waited with his hands on his hips.

  “Pendridge, I have been looking for you. Have you found the criminal who escaped you last night?”

  “He didn’t escape me,” Michael corrected. “I was here at your party. Next time, I know where to be.”

  Her father was silent. Charlotte liked it. But the bliss didn’t last long.

  “There was a robbery on the road to West Wickham last night,” her father informed them. In truth, he was speaking to Michael. Not her.

  Michael stopped.

  “Last night, a highwayman held up the carriage of an elderly dowager,” her father went on. “She later perished from the strain to her heart. This is the fifth highwayman robbery in the last few months. I want this to end. If you cannot see to it, I shall find someone who can. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir. Aye,” Michael answered, looking sickened by the news.

  “And,” the judge continued, narrowing his dark eyes on Michael, “what is this I hear that you shot Lord Sutton in the leg?”

  “He would not deliver your daughter over to me and was waving his pistol around, so I shot him in the thigh. It gave him a good reason to whine.”

  Charlotte could see the hint of a smile on her father’s face. He was glad Michael had shot Preston. Her father hated Preston. He blamed Preston for teaching her how to be cunning and devious, and a thief. But he was wrong. Preston didn’t teach her how to be those things. Her father did.

  At first, she did it all for his attention. Then, she did it to hurt him. Now—

  “Here.” Her father pulled something from a pocket in his justaucorps and flipped it to Michael, who caught it in the air. A bullet. “I will see your stores are full of them.”

  “Thanks,” Michael said.

  Her father’s smile widened for all to see. He looked at Charlotte and motioned to her and moved his gaze to the detective. “Thanks.”

  “What about me, Father?” she asked while she had him understandably amused by Michael’s words.

  He raised his brows and gave her a confused look.

  “Must he still keep watch over my every move?”

  “Of course, Charlotte,” he said with the remnant of his smile fading. “’Tis been but two days. Anywhere you want to go, he can go with you.”

  “Sir?”

  “Aye, Detective?” Her father turned to give him an annoyed look, but Michael didn’t ask about her. Was he happy to be stuck with her day and night?

  “I need a proper jail, and a police force. Men will need to be trained.”

  “Do what you need,” the duke allowed without hesitation. “But we do not usually jail our prisoners. They are hanged.”

  “I know,” Michael told him. “And that needs to change.”

  “Perhaps,” her father surprisingly agreed. “For now though, catch these Horsemen and I will see them hanged for murder.”

  He was serious, Charlotte thought. As was Michael—as they should be. People were dying. An elderly woman had died. No! This had to stop. But she couldn’t give up her friends. She was one of them. One of the worst of them.

  She looked at Croydon’s knight and wondered what it would be like to be on his side. But it was too late. She was a criminal. He hated criminals.

  “Just do what you are being paid to do. Get the rest of the judges behind you and make even more money. ’Tis up to you. But better off catching them than losing them, aye?”

  Michael nodded and her father’s footsteps filled the hall.

  Charlotte felt terrible for Michael. It was her fault he’d been admonished by her father. It would be her fault if he lost his position as lawman here. If he ever found out what she had done…what was she to do now? She would think about it. Presently, she was grateful that Sebastian was gone and talk of the Horsemen was over. Somehow, she had to get away from Michael today or tonight and speak to Preston about all of this. Things were going to have to change. The Horsemen were going to have to move north, or south, or wherever! She didn’t care because if they stayed here, Michael was going to catch them.

  “I need to find a building I can make into a jail. Know of any empty buildings besides the working mill?” His expression softened on her.

  She nodded.

  She led the way, so he didn’t see her squeeze her eyes shut as if to fight something from escaping. Would she bring him to Preston and the others this easily?

  He put his hand on her shoulder and walked with her, his face tilted to her. “Everything okay?”

  And the odd way he spoke—it always made her want to smile. “Aye. I’m just trying to think of ways to help you.”