Chapter Five

B orrow a horse?

Theodosia had never thought that the Earl of Saville would ever steal anything in his life. He might bluster and bellow, and cause trouble left and right, but he had always come across as rather righteous. Quite frankly, the man was a conundrum. One moment he snapped, the next moment he carried her on his back and picked apples for her. Then he snapped again. Was there actually enough good in him to balance out all the ways he'd prickled her anger bone? She couldn't say. Yet. Her opinion of the man oscillated like a pendulum, swinging between Thank Heaven I have you and I want to throttle you .

"You mean steal a horse?"

"No," he denied. "I mean to borrow their horse. It's only stealing if we are running off their property with no intention of returning it."

Lord. "It's only borrowing if you ask for permission to help yourself to someone else's property. Besides, how are we going to return the horse? Are we going to set it loose with a thank you note tucked into the saddle?"

"We can if you want."

"Ridiculous."

"Since we cannot come to an agreement about the correct term to use, let's not squabble over it. We need a horse. They have a horse. Simple as that."

"And you are certain we shall return it once we are done? It doesn't sit well with me, stealing from the less unfortunate. Plus, you picked apples in full view of them. They will suspect you as the thief."

"That is why I am considering leaving the horse with the highwaymen."

"Why ever would you do that?" Theodosia suddenly caught on. "That way when the farmer and his boys find the horse with the Black Knight, the very Black Knight who sold them the horse, they will suspect the highwayman swindled them and they will be the ones squabbling. How diabolical."

"Correct. While we make off with the book on the back of my horse."

"Aren't you afraid these people might get hurt by the Black Knight and his band?"

"Forgive me, but I doubt it very much. He didn't hide his face from us, he claims he is infamous, and something tells me it's not the first time he has done business with those farmers ."

"Very well." Theodosia nodded thoughtfully. "That is not the worst plan I've ever heard. Rather ruthless, but brilliant."

His expression turned turbulent. "Those blackguards brought this on themselves."

"Another thing we agree on. So, do we steal the horse under the cover of darkness?"

"No, I will set out to borrow the horse under the cover of darkness. You will wait for me here."

Theodosia's eyes narrowed. "I won't be left behind."

"You aren't being left behind, Lady Theodosia. You are merely waiting for me."

"And who made you the leader of our little group?"

"I'm bigger than you are."

Hah! "What does size have to with anything?"

"Everything." He smirked. "Some might even argue," he leaned in closer, "that size is everything."

"Are you sure about that?" Theodosia, who had grown up with six brothers, had a canny idea she knew what he spoke of, so her gaze shifted to his crotch, then lifted back to his face just in time to witness his smile drop. "If you are referencing your pride, I will agree it is quite large. Anything else remains up for debate. However, size has nothing to do with what's happening here."

"Provoking minx. My size is just the right size."

"Such arrogance." She curled her lip. "I don't know if I should applaud it or scoff at it. Perhaps wipe it off you with a slap? Which I might very well do if I'm made to wait in this rickety building in the black of night. I hate waiting, Saville." Especially waiting for a man. It made her feel too much like she was waiting on him rather than for him. She'd already waited while he'd picked apples, she didn't want to wait for this. "Plus, what if something happens and I'm stuck here in the house? It's better to go together so that we can escape together."

A sigh. "Very well, you can accompany me to get the horse. But you must do everything I say."

"I can do that." Try to do that.

"Good. I suggest we get some rest. This is going to be a long night."

Theodosia motioned to the room. The only furniture in the dwelling was an overturned chair and a table with only three legs. "This might be stating the obvious, but there is no bed. Only a cold, hard, dusty floor."

"You can spread my coat on the ground and sleep on that."

"What about you?"

"I'm already dirty. More dust won't affect me."

More dust won't affect me? This from a man with a waistcoat obsession? A man who always looked pristine? Though come to think about it, since he hailed her carriage down, he hadn't looked all that put together.

Had calling him a weed, cutting up his waistcoats, and drawing on his portrait bothered him that much? Theodosia still couldn't quite understand why anything about her would bother him .

But then, that was the conundrum that was Saville. As simple as he seemed on the surface, his complexities apparently ran deep. In that regard, he reminded her of her brother Seth. He also had a hot temper, but beneath all that lava, deep emotions churned. The weight of all his responsibilities lay heavy.

And he was a thorn. A thorn that loved to sting!

"I'm not sure I believe you, but I won't fight your suggestion." She spread his coat on the floor, setting the apples aside. One sour apple had certainly been enough.

She dropped down on his coat, thankful for the thin barrier it provided between her and the floor. There would be no comfortable sleep, but nothing about her life since the moment he had entered it had been comfortable. She peeked at Saville, who had settled across from her. No thin barrier to shield him from the dust and dirt.

In a way, he was a thin barrier himself—at least right now. A light shield firmly standing between her and the harsh elements of the outside world. This version of him was much more handsome and appealing—to a degree—than the version of him she'd seen in London. The man in London grated her nerves so that she'd had almost none left.

The man here had a more rawness about him. More appeal. Once the waistcoat came off, another side of him appeared it would seem.

"What color is your hair, anyway?"

He turned his head to her. "My hair color? Can't you tell?"

"Well, your sister's hair is light, fair, sandy. Yours..."

"I'm blond."

"No, you are not."

"Sandy, then, like Selena. We have the same hair color."

"No, you have not. Your hair is darker than hers."

He tugged at the tufts of his hair. "Then a dark sandy."

She glanced at the tendrils once again sticking upward. "Your hair has quite the temper, just like its owner."

A grunt. "What does my hair have to do with anything, anyway?"

"I'm merely curious. Making an observation. Filling the silence." Making normal, boring conversation. Lord knows, it had been a struggle up till now.

"There are other, more relevant subjects to fill the void, if we must."

"Such as?"

"Did you leave London because of me?"

Ah well, the moment of normal was fun while it lasted. "You already asked me this and I already told you. No."

"Yes, but I never know whether you are being truthful or whether you are mocking me with impertinence."

Fair enough. "Would it matter if it were the truth?"

His eyes probed hers before he averted his gaze and stared at the ceiling. "Maybe, maybe not. I don't know. That's why I am curious. I'm reflecting a great deal on my actions these days."

"Very well, if you must know, partly yes and partly no."

"I see."

A silence stretched between them at her answer, one where they were both occupied with their own thoughts.

Not uncomfortable.

Not comfortable either.

Theodosia mimicked his posture, placing her hands behind her head and staring at the cracked beams overhead. So much had happened in such a short span of time. Exhaustion started to overtake her mind.

Her mind wanted to race over many things, but she didn't have much mental energy to focus on any one of them in depth. Her brothers, well some of them, were back in London—her timing had been on point in that regard. And by now, they ought to know everything. That ridiculous rumor circling about town would have them turning over every stone looking for her once they discovered Saville had left London, too.

Seth would be too suspicious to think it a coincidence.

Just how on earth could anyone believe that she and Saville, of all men, could ever form a union? They were both too stubborn, hot tempered, and refused to back down from their stance whatever the subject. There was hardly any capacity to compromise between them. They were really far too much alike for it ever to be a happy marriage. No, theirs was an exact recipe for an unhappy one.

Not that happiness had ever been a requirement between the business arrangements of the ton . It all came down to benefits when deciding to marry. If a party couldn't benefit, why enter into it in the first place? And at the very least, if it were not a love match, there ought to be mutual respect. That didn't exist between them either. Not on the things that mattered most.

Who could have formed such rumors?

The men? The women? An acquaintance?

Sleepiness claimed her eyelids, making them heavier. It didn't matter who started the rumors, she supposed. Rumors didn't even need much of a spark to create a wildfire. All that was required was one whispered thought leaving the lips to spread.

No matter.

They would all soon all see there was no basis to these rumors. They'd all soon see that she, Theodosia King, was the master of her own fate.

*

Field stared at Lady Theodosia's sleeping face. He couldn't see much, since darkness had descended upon them a while ago. Earlier, he could scarcely see his hand before him, but the moment the moon broke through the clouds along with a stretch of stars, soft light filtered into the dwelling, allowing him to draw his gaze over the outline of her face. There was something to be said about the moonlight in the country versus the moonlight in the city. It was much softer here.

The minx was pretty when she slept.

No glares.

No viperous tongue.

No chasing after her.

Field didn't know why he'd pressed the question of whether he had been the reason she'd fled London. He only knew that it mattered. He'd suspected he was, now he had confirmation—at least partially. He sighed. Now that he knew he wished he'd never asked.

What to do with this information?

Apologize?

Make it right?

He didn't want to be the reason, even partially, that she'd fled London. He'd always wanted to do the right thing, even amidst all the things he got wrong. But why try to fix a problem that doesn't want to be fixed? Much like him.

A problem . . .

All his life, he'd been just that for his father. The late Earl of Saville had ruled his house with an iron fist. He'd been a ruthless man, both inside and out, and he had tried to cultivate that same ruthlessness in Field. He'd believed that was the only way to stay at the top. People were only pawns to be used. Women should be seen and not heard.

Blackguard.

Only Field's nature had rejected all his father's attempts.

His father, according to the late earl himself, had only ever made one mistake: not beating his son harder into submission. Everything else was a calculated decision, a deliberate choice. Which was why when Field did make mistakes, he tried his best to act opposite to what his father would have done and take responsibility for his actions. His father had been a master at shifting the blame onto others. He was never wrong.

And Saville's greatest mistake had been his participation in that damn list. He rolled onto his side, his gaze refusing to leave the woman that slept an arm's length away. He had never thought he'd be the cause of a woman fleeing the season. Certainly not this woman.

With the glares.

The viperous tongue.

Who always made him give chase.

Honestly, if he were her, he'd have fled much sooner. He admired Kingsley. All her brothers, really. They weren't the sort of men to suffer characters like his father, and they would not suffer bad behavior from him. They protected their family as best they could.

He reached out to poke her cheek gently. "Lady Theodosia. It's time to go."

Silence.

Should he let her rest and go retrieve the horse by himself?

He grimaced.

If she woke to find him gone, he would surely be the recipient of her wrath. He poked again. "Lady Theodosia." Two seconds. "Theodosia. It's time to clear out."

A soft snore.

"If you don't wake up now, I'll leave you behind. Do you not believe me? Try me, then."

Her lashes fluttered, and her eyes opened and she groaned. "My back hurts."

"The princess isn't used to hard floors."

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Help this princess to her feet."

Field stood and clasped her outstretched hand in his, pulling her up in one swift woosh. "Have the residents of the farm settled in for the night?" she asked.

"Yes, a while ago. It should be safe to approach the barn." He bloody hoped. The farm seemed to be a simple dwelling. If they were silent, very silent, and a bit lucky, they might get the horse without being discovered.

She nodded. "Then let's go."

Damn it. He didn't like this. He wanted her where it was safe. There was something very wrong with him for allowing her to hold him in thrall like this.

He scowled. In thrall?

I meant allowing her to lead me by the nose, confound it!

Every single one of Field's senses went on alert as they padded from the dwelling. The rain had stopped, but there was still a fresh crispness in the air. A layer of fog clung to the meadow. This was the best possible situation. It would provide coverage for them when they left.

Field stealthily made his way across the grass to where he'd picked apples before, Lady Theodosia traipsing cautiously behind. Not a sound could be heard except for the creatures round about—crickets and frogs and the occasional snort of a horse. In the distance, an owl made his presence known.

When no further sounds came, he made his way directly to the small barn, motioning to her to tread carefully. "Be my lookout," he whispered to Lady Theodosia over his shoulder.

"My eyes are peeled," she whispered back.

They were indeed lucky. The barn didn't have much in the way of stalls, and the highwayman's horse was tied to a beam in the far corner. No humans were present. It seemed they all slept in the main building. Other than that, there were several other beasts, but Field didn't pay them any heed. He wanted the Black Knight's steed.

The horse was black as his infamous master's title, but a bit on the older side. Field ran a hand over the horse's neck, whispering soothing words.

"That's a good boy. We are going visit your previous owner, all right?" The horse accepted Field's touch. "That's a good boy."

He undid the reins from the beam to which the beast was tethered and as quietly as possible and led the horse from the barn. He didn't stop until he reached the apple tree.

A heavy cough echoed in the foggy night.

Field froze. So did Lady Theodosia. He inched closer to her as his gaze tracked over the farmhouse.

"Come." He motioned her over when after a few seconds no further noise or movement could be detected. The horse had no saddle or stirrups. Not an issue for him, but for a lady... "Can you get on by yourself or should I lift you?" he whispered.

A soft snort of derision answered him. "Of course, I can"—she stopped when she reached the horse—"not. There is no saddle."

"You're only noticing this now ?" He rather enjoyed using her own words from before to mock her just a bit now.

"I was keeping watch," she hissed back.

"Right you are, right you are. Come here, I'll lift you." Then he couldn't help adding, "I suppose weeds are useful after all."

"They do have a way of prevailing."

Field gave a little snort of his own. "Brace yourself." He gripped her waist and lifted her onto the horse in one smooth go. "Again, those godawful trousers come in handy."

"How big of you to admit," she whispered down from her perch.

Field pulled himself onto the horse behind her and shifted her a bit forward with his thighs. Big enough to admit, yes, but not big enough to ignore.

Her head whipped back. "Should I be sitting at the back?"

"Why would you be sitting at my back? The front is much more secure."

"That's the problem," she muttered. "It's too secure."

He might agree on that. He was becoming all too aware of his legs enveloping hers. But... "You aren't used to riding astride a horse. It's for the best if you sit in front for now."

Just don't think about it, Field.

He nudged the horse into a walk, and at a pace akin to a snail, he guided them from the field. Finally, they could leave this place.

"Shouldn't we explode from here as though the devil is on our heels?"

"The devil is not on our heels. Yet. And hopefully won't be. We do not want to alert the people that we have stolen their horse."

"Very well, I concur. Silence is precious."

"We have been agreeing a lot lately, don't you think, my lady? If I hadn't been with you the entire time, I might think you are plotting something against me."

Her hair feathered across his chin when she turned her head to cast him a pointed sidelong look. He couldn't be certain, but he thought he also caught the slight lift of the corner of her mouth. An infinitesimal twitch in her lips that told him she shared his sentiments.

He smirked, but his amusement didn't last long. A shout filled the air. Then another. And another.

Field cursed.

"Hell's bells. We've been found out."

A soft cheek touched against his as Lady Theodosia shifted again to look over his shoulder, leaving a distracting prickling sensation all along his spine. Hold fast .

"I can't see anything through the fog," her breath tickled his ear.

Keep your wits about you, Field . "If we can't, they can't either."

"Yes, but they'll be watching the ground for the hooves' imprints."

His mind cleared. She was right. They were leaving a trail of hoofprints on the grass for anyone to follow. They had to get to the road as soon as possible. Damn it. They also needed to move as stealthily as possible. Distance and the absence of a trail to follow were the things that would save them now.

"It's fine, we will be fine," Field said for himself more than for her. They still had the fog as their advantage. "We have a lead on them."

"We might not for long." A soft, dry-as-the-desert voice returned. "What if we get caught? Do you think they will accept your explanation of borrowing their horse? I think they will act first and ask questions later, if they ask questions at all."

"So you finally believe they are not your average welcoming farmer family?"

A hand pressed on his thigh. "Saville... I don't want to get caught."

Field's chest constricted. His arms tightened around her. Just ever so slightly. A means to provide the smallest bit of comfort. They had entered an extremely dangerous situation by taking the horse from these strangers. The woman in his arms came across as so strong that he hadn't even paused to think how she might feel if things didn't go according to his half-arsed plan.

"Don't worry, Lady Theodosia. I won't allow you to get caught. Ever."

"Can you even promise that?"

"I can. I am. Can you trust me just this once?"

"Fine. I shall trust you. But do you see why I wanted to follow you, now? Imagine if I were still stuck in that house."

Field didn't want to imagine it at all, quite frankly.

"To hell with it." Field nudged the horse to a trot, and then to a full out run—as quickly as he dared in the fog—heading in what he hoped was the direction the Black Knight had left earlier. There must be a road or path up here soon. And if they were lucky and found the highwaymen quickly, they could get their business settled tonight. If not...

They would have to wait and see where this path would take them.