Chapter Eight

T heodosia wanted to break out into a little dance of glee. They had found the highwaymen! And they'd found those two traitorous servants. Not that the last mattered much, but they could now swap horses and retrieve the book. After which they could alert the authorities of their whereabouts and put this adventure behind them.

"I wonder what they did with the carriage."

"It is probably around the back."

Theodosia scrambled to her feet. "Let's go have a look."

An arm stopped her. "You want to go now?"

"Is there a better time?"

"Yes, when they are sleeping," Saville said. "We need rest as well."

"Do you think I can sleep knowing those men are across the street from us? They could leave at any moment!"

"They seem to be drinking. Let them drink until they drop. It will strengthen our upper hand. We also have the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the riffraff."

Theodosia leveled a narrowed-eyed look at Saville, wanting to push the matter, but couldn't muster up the daggers. Saville dressed up in all purple... in a dress ...who could get angry at such a sight? The bonnet had once again been discarded, and the hard, grim lines governing his face fell in direct contrast, or rather could she claim perfect harmony, with the deep purple.

A comical sight, to be sure.

To think such a hotheaded man had once been indulged by his mother. He must not have been this surly as a child. Saville as a boy... Theodosia could scarcely picture it.

"Very well," she acquiesced. "We will wait. But one of us must keep post at the window." Only then would she relax.

He nodded and lowered back into his seat. "I'll keep watch. You rest."

"Don't you want to rest as well? You were exhausted earlier."

"I've been refreshed by the stew."

Liar. "Well, so have I."

He arched a brow but said nothing. And just like that, with her on the bed and him in the chair, they waited. She didn't want to take the chance that both of them would succumb to sleep and miss a golden opportunity, perhaps the only one, to retrieve the book. At least they were warm, and their bellies were full.

Half an hour passed.

Two.

Three.

Theodosia sighed.

Waiting was so hard!

"That's your seventeenth sigh."

Theodosia lifted her head to Saville. "Are you keeping track for a reason?"

"It's hard not to when you are being so obvious about it."

"If I'm obvious, it's because I'm impatient."

"Patience has never been a virtue of yours, has it?"

Theodosia averted her gaze. "Another thing we have in common, it seems."

"Me? Impatient? I'm not the one heaving sighs every few minutes."

"That's because you are only ever patient with matters you know will annoy me."

"That's hardly fair."

"The place has been silent for the past fifteen minutes," she countered. "Why are we still here if not to draw out my annoyance?"

"Just because it's silent doesn't mean they are sleeping." He rose to his feet. "However, we might as well get on with it. We will retrieve my horse and the book, then return to rest."

"Return? As in come back here? If we steal back your horse, we can't return. We must leave this town. The first thing they will do is search all the stables in town to make certain we are not hiding in plain sight, no?"

He dragged a hand over his face. "Damn it, I hadn't thought about that."

"Rest can wait, we shall get sleep in the next town. Let us first take back what was stolen from us."

"Fine." He grabbed the bottle of gin.

"What are you doing with that?" she asked.

"What else? Once this is over, I'm going to drink it."

"No need to be so snide."

"Says the mistress of mocking comments."

Well... "Let's put our taunts aside for one night, then. And if all goes well, we shall part ways at the next town."

"Then let us hope all goes well."

Theodosia followed Saville down the flight of stairs. Her lips quirked at his slow, awkward steps. If only she could capture this moment in her mind perfectly for future amusement!

When they reached the door, she handed him the bonnet he had left behind. "Why must I wear this thing again? It's pitch-black outside."

"Just in case anyone runs into us on the street. It's dark, so they won't make out your features if you wear this."

He snatched the bonnet from her fingers and wiggled it in her face. "I still don't believe this helps anything." Even so, he still put it on.

Theodosia bit down on her lips.

What a big grouch.

She would have to find a way to properly thank Mrs. Latch and her women-only inn. She would never have had the chance to experience this side of Saville if not for her. It was even amusing to how he went from grumpy to serious as they stepped into the night.

Quickly and quietly, they retrieved their horse, bundled up Saville's clothes to save time, and padded over to the back of the other establishment where carriages of the guests were kept.

Theodosia's eyes lit up as she found hers almost instantly. The crest on the door had been ripped off, but she would recognize it anywhere. She pointed at her carriage. "There."

"Thank Christ. That was easier than I thought."

"Almost too easy." She glanced at him. "Are you going to swap the horses?"

"We'll swap them once we retrieve the book from the carriage."

"You go swap them and I'll retrieve the book," she lowered her voice to a whisper. "If we split up we can save time."

"No. I am not separating from you."

"It's only a few yards. It will take me mere moments to get the book."

"Nevertheless, separating is a bad idea."

She pushed at his back. "You have the harder task of getting the horses swapped, especially if there are stable hands. Also, you also need to swap clothing if you wish to sit astride on your horse." And she would like to return his disguise to Mrs. Latch before they left.

He paused, sighed, then gave a reluctant nod. "Wait for me by the carriage and don't do anything foolish. If someone comes, hide inside."

"Yes, yes, I shall be careful." Theodosia nudged him on his way and padded over to the carriage, feeling the burn of his gaze on her back linger for a moment before it disappeared, along with him, in the direction of the barn.

In the darkness, with the only sounds of crickets and frogs, Theodosia felt the loss of Saville's presence. She didn't care for the dark, yet she wasn't afraid of it either. She just preferred to either have her vision entirely unobstructed or to have someone at her side. She blinked a few times. Had she grown that fond of the earl that she didn't mind if he was the one with her?

"Focus, Theo," she whispered. She could think about such things later. Excitement of the moment aside, exhaustion tugged a bit at her eyelids. With her belly full of food, they were getting heavier and heavier, but she had no choice but to persevere. And for that, she required all of her wits.

She glanced left and right before she opened the door to the carriage as silently as possible and stepped inside.

Robbing the robbers! How grand!

Her heart pounded as she fumbled for the hidden latch, grasped it, and opened the secret compartment. She reached inside, her fingers brushed over firm leather. "There you are, you cursed thing."

She pulled the book from its concealed space, almost dropping it when a nasty cough echoed nearby on her right. Lord, it sounded like the cougher was almost right behind her!

She froze.

Another cough.

Not so close, then. This was why she hated the dark. All other senses were heightened, but she missed clear vision. Her fingers reached into the compartment again—a bit farther this time—to pull out a pistol she had brought along.

She grinned.

She hadn't told Saville about the pistol. Would he be surprised? Shocked? Scolding? She never knew with that man. Her hand felt into the compartment one more time, her eyes lighting up as pulled out a satchel with a spare set of Turkish trousers and a shirt. She would admit her brothers had the best tricks. She resolved never to have a carriage of her own that didn't sport a secret compartment or two.

The unsteady thud of steps suddenly joined the cough. Theodosia didn't think twice, she clutched the door and silently pulled it shut, ducking to the floor and huddling there, ears strained, pistol ready to aim.

The footsteps passed the carriage.

She let out a sigh of relief before her eyes widened. Wait, what direction were they heading?

Saville.

Even if the man was heading in the direction of the stables, the earl would be fine, wouldn't he? He had always been vigilant about his surroundings. And he could handle a drunkard.

I should wait.

She should do as she'd been told. Her fingers tightened around the pistol. But Saville didn't have a weapon to protect himself with.

That tongue of his is not a weapon?

Can his tongue protect him from a pistol? If the mystery man with the cough was one of the highwaymen, he could be armed.

Theodosia bit down on her lip. Hadn't he been shot by his sister in a duel recently? He hadn't once shown any reaction of pain since he'd turned up so unexpectedly, so she'd completely forgotten about it. Had the wound even fully healed yet? Drat it. She shouldn't be worrying about that hellion. Yet...

What would Saville do if he were in her shoes? Would he wait?

You aren't him.

And he'd asked her to wait.

She waited.

For all of about three seconds more.

No. No. No! So what if she weren't him?

That rapscallion would never wait. And neither would she.

*

Field had felt conflicted many times in his life. More so in the past few weeks than in all of the rest of his years combined. And more so tonight than in all those years and past weeks combined. He shouldn't have left Theodosia all alone. Shouldn't have let himself be persuaded. It went against every instinct in his body.

He left the farmer's mare at the entrance, his gaze tracking across all the stalls for Dream as he passed them in long, urgent strides. He found him in the last stall.

Thank Christ.

Dream shook his and snorted at him, as though venting his grievances for having been stolen away from his master. Field entered the stall, tossing his clothing to the side and placing the gin at his feet, before stepping up to soothe his horse by brushing his hands along his neck in long, gentle strokes.

"I'm here, boy. I'm here. Let's get you saddled up."

Poking his head out of the stall to confirm that the way still remained clear, he grabbed hold of his nearby saddle and placed it on Dream's back.

"That's a good boy," the reassured in low whispers. "Let's get this done before anything else. We're going to leave here nice and quiet."

He led Dream out of the stall by the reins, his mind returning to Lady Theodosia, who should be listless with impatience by now. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. Had he ever met a more impatient lady than her?

"Who goes there?" a man called out, and then coughed.

Field cursed.

It seemed they might have to make a dash for it. He snapped up the reins and lifted his leg to mount Dream, only to be hindered by a skirt.

Confound it! He'd forgotten to change back into his clothes. His gaze flicked between the man and the stall. This was not a good position for him to be in.

"Who the bloody 'ell are you?" the newcomer demanded.

"None of your damn business," Field growled, his mind racing on how to settle this with the least amount of disturbance.

"Heh? A man dressed as a woman?" The man's gaze caught on Dream. He frowned. "That's the boss's horse, you, you, you thief!" A finger wagged at Field before the man rushed over and flung his fist.

Field dodged the fist and kicked out, but was once more brought up short by the restrictions of a dress.

"Devil take it!" He nearly lost his footing.

"Aye, thief, I'll send you to hell, you unnatural he-she-devil!"

"What the hell did you just call me?" Field growled.

"He-she-devil!" The man pounced on Field, and they both tumbled to the ground.

A strong scent of alcohol swept up his nostrils. He would be grateful for the advantage of tussling with a drunk man, if the stench hadn't knocked the remainder of the breath from his lungs. And if he hadn't still been wearing this cursed dress.

"How dare you try steal from us?" The man scrambled to his knees and punched him in his injured arm, and Field grunted. The wound, shallow though it was, still hurt when it was aggravated. And he'd been deuced careful not to do so up to now. So much for that.

"Weren't you a thief first?" Field snapped as he gripped the man's hair and yanked. Hard.

A slew of curses sprung from the drunkard's mouth to a degree that even hurt his ears. "You devil! How dare you? Do you know who I am?"

"I don't give a damn who you are, you rotten blackguard." Field punched him in the jaw, the death grip on the man's hair not loosening. "Do you bloody know who I am?"

"You are a demon!" The man tried to crawl away, but Field jerked him back by his hair, drawing about another foul curse from the drunkard, who turned and seized his dress by the bosom and yanked. A stocking fell out. "A demon sent from hell!"

"Yes, I'm a demon, and as I go back from whence I came, I shall take you with me!"

"I'll never go!" The man tried to worm his way out of his hold again. "Not so long as I live!"

"Hah!" Field growled. "As if I'm giving you any choice!"

A glint flashed in the corner of his eye, and Saville rolled away just as pain slashed across his leg. Not good. Before he could throttle the blackguard further, another figure moved into sight, hitting the man over the head of some sort of object he couldn't make out.

The knife dropped to the ground as the man staggered to his feet, clutching his head. "What the hell was that?"

"Me," a sweet, familiar voice said. "And I am not happy that you hurt my partner."

Field blinked at Theodosia blankly from his spot on the ground. Had she just called him her partner? Did he hear that right? He watched in a daze as she strode up to the drunkard and delivered a swift knee strike to his crotch.

Field flinched in sympathy as the man dropped to the ground with a cry of pain, his hands moving from his head to clutch his groin. Field had half a mind to cover his own. She must have learned that from one of her brothers. He was rather glad, and somewhat surprised, that his own family jewels had not borne the brunt of this woman's wrath before now.

He dragged in a deep breath. "Christ, woman, I told you to stay put."

The bandit writhing on the ground glared at them with bloodshot eyes. "You will regret this!"

"I'm sure I won't," Theodosia said. She turned to Field. "Having fun?" Her eyes fell on his leg, where blood soaked the spot there the knife had sliced—a spot Field had avoiding looking at so far. She gasped and rushed to him, hunkering down to look closer at the wound. "Is it deep? Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me."

"Who says I'm lying?"

"The look of pain on your face says you're lying, unless your face has a reason to lie?"

Field instantly schooled his features. She ignored him and bunched up the skirts above the wound. He shut his eyes. "See, it's not that bad."

"How can you say that when your eyes are closed?"

"I don't want to faint."

" Faint ?" A hitch of breath. "Please do not tell me you faint at the sight of blood. No wonder your face is as pale as a sheet of paper!"

"Not a little blood no," he admitted. "But it's always hard to tell what is a lot and what is not until I see it." And he couldn't, under any circumstances, faint.

"Drat it! Very well, stay still and keep your eyes closed while I manage this."

Field opened his eyes but averted them to the man on ground, keeping watch on him.

"I'll use this stocking that fell from your bosom to wrap the wound."

Words no man ever wanted to hear.

"What about the blood on the skirt?" she asked as she quickly folded the stocking around his wound with deft but gentle fingers.

"I don't know." Perhaps if he could convince his mind that it was paint.

"Well, I'm not strong enough to tear the material, so you'll have to try not to look at it."

For the sake of getting away from this godforsaken town? "That I can manage. Don't worry, I won't faint and delay our escape."

"Delay? We shall be caught, not delayed, so don't you dare swoon now. I don't have smelling salts."

"Just wrap the bloody wound." Swoon his arse.

"Yes, yes, luckily it's just a nick, but the bleeding still needs to stop, and we need to clean the wound."

Field nodded. "Are you done? We should leave before his companions notice he hasn't returned."

"I'm done." She covered his legs with the skirt again. "Remember not to look. I won't be able to drag you out of here if you do."

"Warning noted." Field allowed her to help him to his feet. Dizziness rushed through his head, and the stew in his belly clamored to be released.

Settle down, body.

It was just the scent of iron, nothing more. He could handle the smell.

"How can such a big man as you be felled by the sight of blood? What a terrible Achilles heel to be in possession of." She cocked her head. "Did you faint when your sister shot you?"

He sent her a gloomy look.

"So you did. Never mind, I won't let you faint today."

"Well, I'm reassured," Field said a bit dryly. He couldn't help the fact that the sight of blood made him squeamish. It had ever since the day he stopped taking beatings and turned his fists back on his father. The mess he'd made that day... his belly still churned at the memory. He pushed the unwelcome recollection back into the box where it usually resided.

"Should we still rip the dress? I can guide your hands while you keep your eyes closed."

"No need. It's mostly blood on flesh that I can't stand." But he still avoided looking down. He'd rather not test if this still held true here. "My clothes and the gin are still in the stable."

She nodded and retrieved the items. "Luckily I found an old satchel in the compartment, too." She stuffed his clothing in gin in the bag. "We should pour some on your wound."

"Later. You have the book?"

She patted the satchel. "Yes."

"Then let's go." He glanced at the man, who at some point had lost consciousness still clutching his nether regions. Blood trickled from his temple. With what had Theodosia wacked the scoundrel with?

"I can't believe the scuffle didn't wake the stable hands."

Field shrugged. "If there are any, they probably wouldn't dare intervene." He motioned for her to come closer.

Her bows furrowed. "What about your wound?"

"It can withstand this much." He lifted her onto the horse first, ignored the sting of pain, before he followed. Tried to follow. But his leg hit the confines of the skirt. Again.

Field cursed, bent down while looking at anything but the bloody side of the dress, and ripped a slit into the fabric.

"I suppose I shall have to compensate the owner of those poor clothes with coin."

Field grunted and mounted the horse.

"And don't forget to thank me for my help."

Field stared at the back of her head. He could just imagine her pleased as punch expression. "Even though I had the situation under control, thank you."

A snort. "You were rolling around in the dirt, pulling his hair. Is that how all men fight?"

"It's a dirty trick, but one that's effective."

"Really? Is that not a girl's trick? Did you pick it from you sister?"

"So what if I did?"

A chuckle followed his question.

His scalp prickled as memories drew up to the surface of his mind. Selena had pulled his hair once when they were still children. It had hurt like the devil, and there had been no way for him to retaliate. He would never hit a girl. But she had also gotten into tiffs with other girls in those days who did fight back, and it always seemed to work with them.

He shook his head.

Well, the trick worked with men, too, it seemed. He nudged Dream forward. He wanted to get out of this damn town. At least he had his horse back. And the book. They could now safely conclude their journey together.

It was what he wanted.

Is it?

Field had no time to dwell on those two little words, as they'd only taken a few steps forward before another man stepped into their path, blocking their exit from the barn.

"That's my horse you're riding off on."

Theodosia leveled a pistol at him. "No, it's not."

Heavenly Christ.

Where had she found that? Was this what she'd hit that ruffian with? No wonder the man become insensible shortly after she'd also kneed him in the groin!

Field's first instinct was to snatch the pistol away from her, but he didn't dare. One wrong move meant she could accidentally pull the trigger. That wouldn't just alert the others, it would awaken the whole bloody town. She might also kill the man, and he didn't want anyone's death on her hands.

The man casually lifted both arms in the air.

He appeared sober, but he'd disregarded his jacket, which meant he might have been comfortable and confident enough to disregard his own weapon, too.

Field prayed to the skies this was the case.

"My man still alive, princess?"

Field scowled as the man defiled his ears with that endearment. "For now," he growled in her stead.

"Might wake up with a bit of a headache," Theodosia added.

"And a bit of something else," Field said. "Best stand aside, Black Knight."

The man smiled and, with his hands still in the air, stepped aside. "You made a mistake here today."

"We'll never see each other again after today," Field countered, spurring Dream into a dead run.

He prayed to God his word would hold true.