Chapter 4

Leah couldn't sleep. She had tried for the past two hours, but after the rest she'd sustained after her injury, she supposed her body was weary of any more. Either that, or it was the continual way her brain wanted to return to that passionate encounter in the kitchen. Why she might be pondering a kiss when she should be fuming at her current situation was beyond rational reasoning.

But then, she had been unable to understand why, in one moment of unadulterated bliss, Harlan appeared to be alluring and intelligent, when in the next, he was crass and thoughtless about her feelings. She had trouble understanding the abrupt switch in his behavior, and the more she thought about it, the more confused she became.

She rolled back over in the bed and threw one arm above her head. At least she had acquired her valise. She hadn't been surprised to find that her things had been riffled through, but what was rather curious was that they hadn't taken her mother's brooch. It was the one thing of value that she'd always kept close to her. It would have fetched a modest price that she was surprised such uncivilized ruffians might not have taken for themselves.

Highwaymen were notorious about going after coin and jewels. If that were true, then why had they left hers alone?

She frowned. Something didn't fit, but what was she missing?

Throwing the covers off of her, she decided to ponder this revelation for a bit. At least if she was thinking about Harlan's motives, then she wasn't allowing her lips to continue tingling from that devastating kiss. She had never acted with such carelessness. Why had she allowed such an intimate moment it with a man she had never fully seen?

She stopped. Focus.

Pacing back in forth in front of the simmering fire in the grate, her white cotton nightdress swishing about her ankles, Leah decided to recount everything that had happened thus far. It was a bit difficult to recall the timeline of events after she had hit her head, which was still sore where she'd struck the window, but she did her best to piece together the last twenty-four hours. It was difficult to believe it had been such a short time since the public coach had been held up by such ruthless bandits.

And yet…

If they hadn't been searching for wealth, then what else could they have been trying to find?

Leah had lived in various countries and met people from all walks of life. Surely there was some clue that might spark a theory of some sort, but what could anyone possibly hope to find if it wasn't coin?

"Do you mind ceasing your incessant march?"

Leah gasped in surprise, and then walked over to the door. Wrenching it open, she nearly stumbled over the man on the floor. Harlan was lying on his back just over the threshold, and she was grateful to see that he was still fully dressed—including the concealing mask. She set her hands on her hips. "What are you doing there?"

He didn't even offer the courtesy of cracking open an eyelid. "Attempting to sleep, but it's nearly impossible with your continual tread."

"Then perhaps you should retire to the parlor. No doubt you would be more comfortable on the settee."

He snorted. "I might, if I didn't care to have my legs hanging off the side all night. And now that I'm aware of your skills with a lock, I could not rest easy knowing you might club me over the head at any given time."

"So, you would catch a chill by lying on the floor?"

"I've faced worse conditions." His mouth kicked up at the corner. "But I do appreciate your concern on my behalf. It warms my cold, black heart."

Leah glared at him. "It would do you good to leave you here to rot, but I wouldn't want a dog to be left outside. While I doubt you are much more worthy, I certainly don't want to be blamed for your demise."

He finally opened his eyes, and she was struck again by the slight bit of green that shined up out of the darkness at her. "Then what might you suggest, Miss Lindquist?"

Although she hated to say the words, she opened the door wider. "We are both adults, and since I seem to have taken the only bed, it looks as though we are going to have to share."

He lifted himself up on a single elbow. "You would dare sleep beside the hardened devil himself?" he mocked.

She tossed her head. "Trust me, I shall ensure my comfort is paramount. If you do not know how to behave, you will be back on the floor without a second thought spared to your health."

He winced slightly. "And here I thought I was the barbaric one."

As he stood and gathered his pillow and blanket, Leah moved to the side. When he entered the room and she shut the door, she had the sensation that all of the air was suddenly sucked out of the cramped interior that had been perfectly fine just moments before. She hadn't realized how imposing he was until they were standing in the same room together with nothing but a slight bed between them that they would soon share.

She wished she'd had a robe to layer her gown with extra protection, because it seemed as though his eyes could penetrate the fabric, when she had been confident it was concealing enough.

"Do you prefer a side?" he asked, as if suddenly unsure of the current situation as well.

She glanced at the bed, and then regretted her choice when she pictured him lying there. She cleared her throat. "The left."

"How fortuitous as the right is what I prefer."

She inclined her head. "Fine."

She climbed beneath the covers and lifted them to her chin. She watched as Harlan laid down, but his section of the counterpane remained along the center of his chest. The mask was still in place. "Do you really want to sleep with that thing on?" she asked irritably.

He didn't look at her. "It's not a choice, but a necessity."

She sighed. "Are you really that concerned that I might recognize you? I have not been in England in some years."

"Perhaps not," he murmured. "But should I find myself captured, you would be a credible witness. I can't take the chance you would turn me into a thief taker."

Leah couldn't argue with that reasoning, and yet, she desperately wished to see him without it on. If nothing else, just so she could point him out to the authorities later on.

She shut her eyes tightly and told herself to regulate her breathing. But clinging to the edge of the bed was not particularly the most comfortable position she'd ever been in. Nevertheless, she told herself that she wouldn't be in this odd predicament forever. Soon enough she would be at her brother's house, subjected to Henry's dull sermons and finding herself led to the altar to marry someone he'd personally selected.

She might hate to admit it, but the man sleeping soundly beside her was a better choice than what might await her.

Harlan didn't remembera time when he had slept so soundly. It was as if the peace he had been searching for so long had finally settled over him like a warm and inviting cloak.

Or perhaps it was the arm that was thrown over his chest and the head that was snuggled within the crook of his shoulder.

Blast. As he returned to reality, he found he had a conundrum on his hands. If Miss Lindquist awoke snuggled up to him, she might think that he was trying to take advantage of her. He had already earned her ire. He didn't care to exacerbate the issue further and gain her hatred. If he did, she might be impossible to be around, and until he knew without a doubt that she was innocent of any crimes against the Crown, he had to keep her close at hand.

He started to slide his arm away from her, but she sighed in her sleep and dared to move closer. He stopped instantly. Obviously slow and steady wasn't going to be of much assistance. He decided it would have to be a smooth, fluid motion.

He poised his muscles for the perfect escape. Sweat started to break out on his brow as he considered the implications if it didn't work and she awoke on top of him instead. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth as he jerked his arm back quickly.

Harlan imagined a scenario where she rolled to her side and fluttered her eyes open with a natural ease, to which he would calmly ask if she slept well.

That did not happen.

When Harlan whipped his arm back, the momentum sent her spiraling a bit too close to the edge of the mattress—and tumbling right over the edge. She expelled a cry of alarm as she hit the wooden floor. Harlan closed his eyes and mumbled a curse as the thump resonated throughout the silent room.

He sat up, prepared to offer her his assistance when her head popped up from the opposite side. "What was that for?" she demanded.

For an instant, Harlan wasn't able to respond. She looked entirely too lovely with her eyes sparking with fury, her dark hair in disarray about her head. But it was the firm set of her mouth that caused him to clear his throat—and lie. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

With a grumble of annoyance, she got up and brushed at her nightdress with brisk movements. With her long hair falling about her shoulders and brushing the upper part of her backside, the worst part was that she had no idea what sort of torture she was putting him through. With a sigh, he rolled out of bed. "It was an accident."

He realized too late it was the wrong thing to say. "So, you were aware of pushing me out of bed?"

He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Miss Lindquist—" Her expression turned darker, and he held up his hands in supplication. "Leah. Forgive me, but I was trying to ensure you woke up on your side of the bed."

"Well, you certainly accomplished that, didn't you?" she snapped.

"Would you have preferred waking up on top of me?"

The harsh demand rattled about the room with an awareness that had both of them stopping and regarding the other. It was as if the kiss they had shared the night before was suddenly a vivid recollection between them.

He was curious to note that her face pinked slightly as she moved to the valise at the end of the bed. "I need to get dressed."

He nearly asked what she was so eager to prepare for, but since it was the perfect time to make an exit without further shoving his foot into his mouth, he decided to retreat. "I'll start some coffee."

He wasn't sure if she preferred tea, but he had become partial to the stronger drink in the mornings. If she didn't like it, he would hand her a pot of water with his compliments.

Grabbing his things, he left the chamber and headed for the kitchen. He glanced at the clock on the wall and rather wished Miss Lindquist was bustling about the area again. He generally made do with toasted bread in the mornings, and he hoped Miss Lindquist preferred the same, because that was all he intended to offer. He used to employ a housekeeper to keep things nice and tidy about the cottage but there was no need for Mrs. Gwynn to arrive now. She would certainly chastise him about his charming captive.

As he set to work, he decided it was a good thing all these questions were left pending. He needed to remind himself that she wasn't a woman he was courting with the intention that it might lead to something more. She was merely someone he needed to watch carefully. Once he could rest easy in the knowledge that she was only traveling to meet her brother, as she claimed, then he would release her without a second thought, perhaps as early as today.

That should have pleased him greatly, but instead, he found himself frowning as he set the kettle of water on to boil.

Leah sank backonto the bed when Harlan left the room. She rubbed her backside, which was still smarting from her untimely awakening. The man's offenses kept piling up. The least of which was that he continued to wear that ridiculous mask. To believe at one time she had imagined such an accessory to be a romantic addition to a flowing cloak and proud, black stallion. How wrong she'd been. She yearned to rip the offending article from his face and toss it in the nearest rubbish bin.

It irritated her that he wouldn't offer her that much consideration when he demanded to know so much about her. Not only that, but it had to be cumbersome to wear at all times. The famed Robin Hood hadn't worn a mask, so why did Harlan deem it so necessary?

Leah blinked. Unless, of course, he was involved in something more nefarious than mere thievery?

Again, the prospect that they weren't common highwayman crept back into her brain like the pins and needles she suffered when her foot started to awaken after being numb.

The possibility that they were gentlemen determined to find something more worthy than riches had already crossed her mind, but she had no idea what it might be. A stolen artifact, perhaps?

She tried to remember if she'd read anything in the papers recently, but nothing came to mind. If it was something that imperative, they would likely do their best to keep their intentions quiet before the masses discovered the truth.

But then, that didn't explain why Harlan and the rest of his men had taken her captive. If it was because she'd been injured, then once he was assured that she had recovered, that should have been the end of it. Otherwise, it wasn't as if she was of any value. Her brother certainly couldn't be counted on to pay a hefty ransom for her release. He wasn't that eager for her to take up residence with him as it was. He'd written to her only after she had informed him of her aunt's death, and he'd told her, in no uncertain terms that he was taking her in out of charity alone. He hadn't offered to help secure her passage to Birmingham, nor to meet her in London. He claimed that he couldn't leave his flock unattended for such a length of time.

Leah had never felt more disheartened in her entire life. She had been moved around from one place to another for years, and suffered losses that made her uncertain of her future. She might not have been born with blue blood in her veins, but she despised feeling as though she was beholden to anyone for a scrap of food and a roof over her head.

For some strange reason, she didn't feel that way with Harlan. She might have been angry with him the night before, and it wasn't because she'd had to prepare her own food. She hadn't liked having her limits tested, but it wasn't until that shattering kiss that something had shifted. They'd shared a night together, however innocent that might have been, and yet Leah had begun to feel a connection to him that she'd never experienced with anyone else. While she wouldn't call this cottage the home that she had always dreamed of having with someone who cared about her needs and desires, it was currently better than worrying what her brother had in mind for her.

With little choice but to don the same, soiled petticoats as the day before, Leah wondered about her fate. Everything she owned was in this single valise. Most of her possessions had been sold off to pay for her aunt's funeral expenses, as well as her passage to England. The rest were sentimental pieces like her mother's brooch and a miniature of her father, as well as a vanity set her aunt had gifted to her on her twenty-first birthday that she couldn't dare part with. The rest were clothes that had witnessed the passage of time. She had worn her best gown to meet her brother and it was now in need of a good wash.

Leah withdrew a chartreuse overskirt, and once she'd brushed out her hair and secured it with the extra set of pins that she had in her valise, she was able to make herself somewhat presentable when she walked out of the chamber.

The first thing she noticed was the delightful scent of brewing coffee and toast. Her stomach rumbled with interest and she walked into the kitchen where she found her masked captor moving about as if he had accomplished this routine many times before.

He turned when she entered. "There is a cup in the cupboard just there." He nodded. "I made coffee, but if you prefer tea, I have some water ready."

She walked forward and withdrew a cup from the upper level. "You're being rather hospitable this morning," she noted warily.

"There is no point treating you as though you are in some sort of gaol." His gaze flicked sharply to her. "As far as I'm aware, you haven't done anything worth such a punishment."

The way he looked at her made her wonder if he actually believed otherwise. "You would be correct on that score. The only offense I may have committed lately is wearing a wrinkled dress." She waved a hand down her attire.

He glanced along her form and shook his head with a crooked smile. "I would not have noticed."

It was the way his focus seemed to caress her that made her shiver slightly. A compliment coming from this man, who was so virile, even with that dreadful mask in place, sounded terribly appealing. She had certainly noticed his charming hazel eyes and that strong jawline that she yearned to caress.

She gestured to the kettle in his hand. "Might I try some of that?" she asked, holding her cup out.

He looked at her curiously but walked over and poured some into her cup. "Have you tried coffee before?"

"I have," she noted. "But it has been some years. I'm curious if this is any better."

He chuckled, and she quite liked the sound of it. As well as this polite conversation they had suddenly embarked upon. It was as if, somewhere along the way, they had agreed to a temporary truce. "Only if you like something stronger than tea. It is much better with cream and sugar, but I actually prefer the bitter taste."

She took a sip, and while her nose scrunched up slightly, she took another. Licking her lips, she said, "I think I could get used to it if I drank it long enough."

His focus was so direct, so intent, that for a moment, her heart ceased to beat.