Chapter Three

T he moon was bright tonight and he could see it through the leafy canopy above him, ribbons of soft light winding down onto the forest floor.

Lovely black locks askew and tumbling over her forehead, his captive said, "I meant it when I said I would not tell anyone you were here."

Shink. He ran the sharpener down his blade. "Why would I stake my life on that?"

She was silent and then finally said, "Because I have nothing to gain if you are found. And because…"

He paused his hands from their work.

She finished her thought, "Because you did not do what I expected a…"

Did she never finish a sentence? "Just say it."

Her voice was as soft as a tendril of smoke. "I did not expect a highwayman to leave us all rather unharmed."

He blinked, trying to follow her line of reasoning. "You are suggesting that you will keep your word as you feel you owe a life for a life?"

She straightened. "No. That is not what I am saying at all."

He shook his head. Shink.

She was making this more complicated which was not helping him decide what to do with her. He couldn't keep her here at his camp or someone might come looking for her tomorrow when they realized she was missing.

She said, "I can give you information. You promise to let me go and I will tell you something that will help you."

He tucked his blade back into his boot. It was a cunning offer, but she hadn't thought that he was the one with all the power at the moment. She didn't know that he was limited by his morals which meant she shouldn't trust him. Why was she so willing to share information that could end up hurting the very people he wanted to hurt?

He could take her offer. He said, "I want to ruin Timothy Dawson and expose him as the selfish, manipulative bastard he is. I will do it in a public way that no one around him can ignore. If you know something that will help me do this, then I will consider letting you return home."

She smoothed black locks of hair away from her face while she stared over at his rapier, the jewel on the hilt glinting nearly as red in the firelight as her tempting lips.

She said, "I can give you information that will help with your next…"

There she went again, not finishing her sentences. She kept stumbling whenever she had to refer to something she deemed inappropriate. He smirked at her and folded his arms over his chest, waiting.

She took a deep breath, fluttering her hand in the air at him, and said, "The information will help you gain more items."

He repeated, "Gain more items."

She nodded, her narrow chin dipping down a couple of times. "Yes."

He sucked his tongue over his teeth, making sure he paused long enough before answering her. "That sounds like a trap."

"What?"

"You want to provide me with information, setting up my future criminal activity, but then you will run home and tell everyone the plans you fed me."

"No!" Her eyes widened and she pulled her hands to her chest. "I need you to believe that I would not do that."

" Why? "

He didn't mean for his rage to surface behind the question but the further their conversation carried, the more he saw his options dwindling. He very well might have to do something he didn't want to do.

He wanted to terrify Timothy Dawson. He wanted to steal from him. And he wasn't done with his plans, yet, but this woman, this little, beautiful, slip of a thing was ruining months of work.

And he would not let anyone get in his way.

She stuttered over her answer, "I-I hate them!"

He heard it in her voice. He heard the force behind her words that made them sound as if she had pulled the truth of them from somewhere deep inside of her.

He believed her. If she hated them half as much as he did, then perhaps she wasn't the liability he had thought she was. Maybe she could help and if she truly hated them, maybe he would be doing her a favor.

He stood up. She scrambled back, tripping over her skirts and stumbling to stand behind the log she had been sitting on, her expression wide and terrified.

He held his hands up and then realized he still held his knife. He cursed and knelt to slide it back into his boot. "We can make a deal."

She couldn't know how much it took for him to say that. She was a weakness, her bold, dark eyes staring at him, her plush lips entrancing him, making him want to believe that he could trust her. He didn't trust anybody but he didn't want to hurt her.

And that meant he had to trust her.

She said, "Tomorrow our house guest will arrive. Mr. Thompson."

Information snapped into place in his plans. He took a step forward. "Do you know why I am going to let you return home?"

She didn't say anything but her eyes held her unspoken question.

He shoved down the thought swirling in his head that he desperately wanted to deny had any hold on his decisions. He was going to let her go home but he wanted to see her again.

He said, "You can be my eyes in the manor. Do you really hate them?"

She hesitated, then she pursed her lips and started to nod, whispering, "I do."

He crossed the last few steps between them, stepping over her log and stopping in front of her. He lifted her chin with his finger so she had to look him in the eyes as he said, "Tomorrow night."

She swallowed. "You want me to return here? To you? You think I would do that?"

His gaze lingered over her lips. It was as if the softness of her somehow softened him.

He didn't like it.

He stepped back and pointed out at the forest trail she had used to find the clearing. "You can go home. Why will you return? Because whatever it is you want, I can help you."

She didn't answer, keeping her lips pursed together. He had considered threatening her again but anything he said would be empty. She didn't look like she needed anything darker in her life, she needed hope.

He wanted to touch her. She had smelled clean, like the perfume of a fine soap mingled with the warm skin of a woman. It was a scent a man could get lost in.

She murmured, "Mr. Dawson wants to force me to marry him." Her eyes met his and even though he had stepped back, he felt the simmer of something in her expression. "I will not do that."

He wanted to touch her. The force behind her tone carried an air of severity that made him wonder if she was stronger than he originally thought. This delicate lady with hair blacker than the night, understood more than her appearance let on.

If he reached out, like he wanted to, she would flinch away. Which was how she should react when a monster put his hands on her.

He could feel her dark eyes on him. She remained as silent as prey who knew it was not alone in the woods.

He said, "I believe you."

It was the last thing they said to each other. He gestured down the trail again and watched her skirt around him to disappear into the night.

He followed.

He let her go but he knew, as he stalked the woods outside the stone manor, that she would return the following night.

A candle lit the black space of a bedroom window and he saw her peer out, searching the dark for a man she couldn't see.