He seemed to think that he’d said too much, because his lips pressed tightly together, and he returned his focus on making certain his horse was in good condition after fleeing through the forest.
The third highwayman had already removed his kerchief, and though he seemed several years younger than his companions, hard-won experience shone in his blue eyes. His hair was sandy with a hint of curl, and his lips verged on feminine. He had a small mole just beside his nose, which added to the prettiness of his fair face. He pushed his cloak back, and his long, lean body was clothed in a deep blue coat and waistcoat, with brown breeches and scuffed brown boots.
“She staying for a while?” he asked Brody, his Welsh accent melodic.
“Who’s to say what the future holds?” Jessica answered before Brody could. “Your names, gentlemen? You know mine, and I’d hate to address you with a grunt.”
“Tej,” the black-haired highwayman said.
“Rhys,” the pretty one replied. “And he’s Ezra.”
As Ezra unhooked the bag of loot from the back of his saddle, Jessica dipped into a curtsey. “A pleasure to meet both of you.”
Ezra barked out a laugh. “This is a highwaymen’s lair, not a salon. And you said you weren’t a lady.”
“Stepney born and bred.”
“Don’t sound like it,” Rhys muttered.
“In my line of work, it’s advantageous to disguise my place of origin.”
“And what is your line of work?” Ezra moved closer to her, and she sensed all three men staring at her with intense regard.
“In these uncertain times,” she answered, “it’s whatever keeps a roof over my head and mutton in my belly. As you three can well understand.”
The highwaymen exchanged looks that seemed to indicate their sympathies with her statement. War on the Continent and in the Colonies had only just ended, seven years of bloodshed and loss. Those soldiers who had survived the conflict returned home, only to struggle to find employment, while the wounded were forced into beggary when doors shut in their faces and their country failed to provide for them.
Those who hadn’t fought were likewise going hungry. The streets of London teemed with the poor and dispossessed, and vagrants roamed the country. Many of them turned to crime.
Ezra tossed the bag of loot to Tej, who deftly caught it with one hand. The bag rattled and jingled.
Smiling, Tej said, “A fair take.”
“I think I have the fairest take.” Ezra grabbed hold of Jessica’s hand, and the heat of his touch poured through her. He sent her a glance fraught with intention.
“As I said, you didn’t take,” Jessica pointed out. “I opted to accompany you.”
“However you define it,” he answered, “I’m grateful for it. And impatient.” He took two long strides toward the tumbledown house, gently pulling her behind him.
“Haven’t I a say in the matter?” she asked.
He paused, giving her a considering look.
She continued, “I say, yes.”
A snort came from Rhys. “Go on, then. We’ll stay well away until you’re…satisfied.”
A wolfish smile crossed Ezra’s face as Tej and Rhys chuckled. Jessica couldn’t even blush. What was the point when she’d made her desires so plain? Besides, there was no harm in owning her needs, especially when all parties were willing.
“You may have to keep your distance for some time, lads,” Ezra said, and laughed huskily as he regarded Jessica through lowered lashes. “I aim to ensure the lady is well satisfied.”
She had brief impressions of the interior of the ramshackle cottage. A table in one room, surrounded by three chairs. A little iron stove, a few pots and pans. A heavy chest shoved against one leaning wall.
“This is your lair?” she asked.
“The forest is peppered with our dens.”
A strange word to use for a thieves’ hideout, but there wasn’t time to remark on it as Ezra moved quickly through the room, pulling her behind him.
