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“I will do more than kick you. I will lodge a bullet in your arse. I will stick a dagger in your heart,” the lad swore. “I will kill you both, I swear it.”
Philippe grimaced. ?
??Yes, it is a pity to ruin such fine leather with the vile creature. I paid a near fortune to have it imported from Florence, but I will not stand in the frigid air to question a petty criminal.”
“Fine, but do not expect me to share the pungent experience,” Carlos warned as they walked back down the road. With a heave Carlos tossed the snarling lad into the carriage and reached for the reins that Philippe held. “I intend to test this nag and decide if it is worth keeping or not.”
“No.” The would-be highwayman struggled with the cape that had wrapped about him and trapped his arms. “You cannot.”
“Oh, yes, I can.” Carlos narrowed his eyes. “And you will shut your mouth and behave yourself or I’ll return and hang you from the nearest tree. Capisce?”
“I hope you break your bloody neck,” the lad muttered.
“I would cut out his tongue, if I were you.” Carlos muttered. “It would be a great improvement.”
Philippe ignored his captive’s sharp gasp. “Not until I have the information I need. After that…well, you shall be quite welcome to hang him from whichever tree you prefer.”
CHAPTER THREE
RAINE WAS FURIOUS as she struggled to free herself from the folds of the damnable cape.
What an impulsive fool she had been.
When she had decided to take on the role of the Knave of Knightsbridge to dupe the magistrate, she had deliberately chosen the back roads and lanes near Knightsbridge to stalk her prey. The pickings were hardly fine, and more than a few nights she was forced to return to the cottage empty-handed, but the dangers were few. And most important, she managed to keep her father from the gallows.
How could Josiah Wimbourne be guilty when he was so visibly seen about the village at the same time the Knave was robbing carriages miles away?
Not that Tom Harper was entirely convinced that Josiah was innocent. But he could hardly arrest the man without some proof.
Today, however, her father had sternly informed her that this would be her last night of playing the dashing Knave. His shoulder had at last healed and the magistrate was temporarily thwarted. He was determined that his daughter would no longer court such risk.
Raine had discovered herself sharply disappointed by his command. Her daring charade had proved to be remarkably exciting as she had dashed about the countryside and collected a small fortune in coins and jewels to be handed over to her neighbors.
She felt as if she were actually accomplishing something important. Something that could give her rather empty life meaning.
An odd sentiment in a young woman, perhaps, but she had never been the sort of maiden to be content with keeping house and pandering to the needs of a man.
With the knowledge that she would soon be returning to her dull existence, Raine had taken a ridiculous gamble and chosen this well-traveled road to make her grand departure as the Knave. Her head had been filled with images of wealthy noblemen dripping in jewels and carrying crates of gold.
Her head should have been filled with the knowledge that such wealthy noblemen never traveled alone, and invariably possessed the sort of servants who were perfectly capable of protecting their masters.
As if to emphasize her stupidity, she was forced to helplessly watch as the dark, irritating Carlos vaulted on top her beloved Maggie and took off down the frozen road. At the same moment the raven-haired gentleman climbed into the carriage and with a low command to the coachman closed the door to lock them together in the shadowed interior.
Gritting her teeth as the carriage jerked to a start, Raine stared at the man seated across from her.
Had they simply met in the street, she had to admit that she would have considered him the most handsome gentleman she had ever laid eyes upon. Not that handsome really suited the elegant male features and startling green eyes, she decided. There was an undeniable beauty in the sweep of his brows, the prominent line of his cheekbones, the aquiline nose and the perfectly chiseled lips.
It was a glacial beauty, however, and Raine abruptly shuddered.
Carlos might be a hot-blooded brute, but she sensed between the two men, this icy fallen angel was by far the more dangerous.
Unnerved by the steady, piercing gaze, Raine halted her struggles with her cape and cleared her throat.
“What do you intend to do with me?” she demanded, careful to keep her voice low. The only bit of luck she had enjoyed this disastrous night was that her captors believed her to be a young boy. It was a belief she intended to encourage. God only knew what would happen if they discovered she was a female. “If you think the magistrate will thank you for…”
“Shut your mouth and do not speak again unless I ask you a direct question,” he snapped, his voice as cold as ice. Instinctively, Raine pressed her lips together. There was something unnaturally commanding about the man. “Good, not entirely a simpleton, then.” The green eyes narrowed as he leaned close enough to wrap her in the scent of warm, male skin. “I have need of information from you. Answer me truthfully and you might actually escape the hangman’s noose.”
She swallowed heavily, her heart lodged in her throat. Dear God, what had she gotten herself into?
