Page 37 of Against the Wind

“No, m’lady, ’tis the truth I do not mind, not much. Besides, my sisters’ coddling of me is all I’ve ever known. I had to get away to France to become a man.”

They bumped along in the fast-moving coach, Kit feeling every mile once they left the town behind and encountered the rutted rural roads. And the day was cold. They passed beautiful rolling hills on which sheep grazed like small white clouds painted on a vast green canvas, but by then she was longing for a steaming bath.

An hour later, night had fallen as the carriage slowed to take a knoll. Suddenly, Kit heard the horses make a sharp snorting noise as if in alarm. The carriage stopped abruptly and the coachman shouted, “Whoa!” as she heard him trying to rein in the frightened steeds.

“Merde,” Martin growled under his breath, coming to life at her side. Then he shoved her to the floor with an urgent whisper. “Stay down!”

Men talked outside the carriage. A deep voice ordered the coachman to leave his hands on the reins. Martin whispered to John, “Cover your side. Wait until they are close. Then, at my signal, shoot through the door.”

Without a sound, John crouched and drew his pistol, aiming it just below the curtain-covered window.

Highwaymen! Cold fear cut through Kit like a knife. She’d heard stories of the bandits who frequented these lonely roads north of London, particularly on a night bathed in moonlight such as this.

Sitting on the edge of the seat, pistol aimed at his carriage door, Martin pulled back the window curtain and peered out. John did the same on his side. As he did, Kit heard a man shout, “Step out of the carriage with yer valuables, sar.”

It sounded as if that voice was very close. Another man outside John’s door added, “Ye also, laddie. I want ta see what sweet baggage lies within.” Kit couldn’t tell if he was talking about her or any goods they might carry. Either way was a terror.

The man began to open the door, and Martin whispered, “Now!”

Gunfire exploded from the two pistols simultaneously. Kit covered her ears, but the sound was deafening even so. Smoke and the sharp bitter smell of gunpowder filled the coach and her nostrils, nearly causing her to gag.

Martin flung open his door and jumped out, holding ready a knife he had pulled from his boot. John scrambled out his side, and Kit rose from the floor to peer through the door Martin exited. One highwayman lay on the ground; another sat atop a dark horse flailing with a pistol as he tried to control the rearing, screaming animal. A knife sailed through the air and the rider fell, his pistol firing wildly and dropping from his hand. Martin’s knife was lodged deep in his chest.

Kit could hear the carriage horses snorting as they strained restlessly against their traces and the coachman’s soothing words as he attempted to calm them. Martin encouraged the driver to hold steady. Through the open door, Kit looked again at the man Martin had shot. He lay on the ground, a dark liquid seeping from his chest.

My God. Kit’s heart pounded at the carnage in front of her, every nerve on end. Martin helped her down just as John asked the coachman, “Did you see any others?”

“Nay, only the three. Ye dispatched them most remarkably. I am grateful.”

Holding her close to his side, Martin studied Kit, concern in his eyes. “Are you all right, Kitten?”

“Yes, just a little shaken. I think my ears are still ringing from those pistols firing so close.”

“I’m sorry, love, but there was no other choice.” Then Martin turned to the coachman and his outrider, a young man sitting very still. “You have some damage to your carriage you did not have before. You must forgive us for that, but it was necessary. I was taking no chances the bandits would see our pistols.”

“Not to worry, sir,” the coachman said. “You saved me life. ’Tis in your debt I am.”

Martin addressed John. “Help pull the bodies into the brush, and tie the rider’s horse behind the carriage. The two other horses are likely close.”

The outrider climbed down from the carriage to join John as the two hurried off to complete the tasks. Martin turned back to Kit and drew her more tightly into his arms and kissed her hard. Even in the moonlight she could see worry in his furrowed brow as he broke away. “Truly, you are fine?”

Breathless, she said, “Yes.” Staring at him with disbelieving eyes in the light of the moon she added, “You were…amazing! I still cannot believe you fired at the robbers through the coach doors.”

“Well, I expected we could encounter a highwayman or two, and I might have preferred not to kill them, but with you along I was taking no chances.”

“You killed them because of me?”

“Do not fret, Kitten. They would have hanged if I had brought them to a magistrate, but they might have wounded us before I accomplished that bit of work. I refused to risk your life.”

“I am…thankful.” She was also in awe. What kind of a man had she married? Skilled with both pistol and knife and prepared for highwaymen? He had reminded her of a general in command of his troops as he dealt with the sudden attack, both fierce and calm. In fact, she realized, staring at him, he still appeared calm, his only worry seeming to be her welfare.

The outrider and John returned, leading two more black horses. “I’ll tie these two and the other to the carriage, sir,” John said. “We can use them in Derbyshire.” He headed to the back of the conveyance, reins in hand.

“A splendid idea, John. Oh, and I’d like you to ride alongside on one of the horses or on top of the coach for the rest of the trip.”

“Aye, seems best,” the young man agreed. “I think tonight I’ll sit atop. Tomorrow I’ll ride alongside.”

“Fine,” Martin allowed. “As soon as you have the horses secured, we’d best leave. I shouldn’t want to linger long under the full moon. The devils might have comrades lurking about.”

The coachman was ready to depart, hands on the reins, and Martin turned to him. “I am anxious to stop at the next coaching inn as soon as you can get us there.” Returning his gaze to Kit he explained, “We can change horses and get a bite to eat.”

The coachman tipped his hat, John climbed up top alongside the outrider. Martin helped Kit into the carriage, now even colder for the holes blasted in the doors. Shivering, she pulled the lap robe up to her chin, but Martin joined her, drawing her close and whispering, “I’ll get some heated bricks for tomorrow, and once we’re at the inn, Kitten, I have ways to warm you.”