AllFreeNovel
Share Us
'Sir, despite appearances, I don't intend to meet a great number of highwaymen over the course of my life. You will be the first and the last.' Despite her high-handed tone, Abigail's expression showed a fragility that Marcus couldn't help but feel sympathy for. 'There's no need to tell me what highwaymen do and don't do. I will only ever have you as a model.'
God, why was he being so strict with her? She was tired, probably cold, and had evidently chosen him and his cave as a way of escaping some terrible fate. Marcus sighed, briefly fighting the wave of sympathy flooding him, but was ultimately helpless against it.
Not that it was entirely sympathy. There was something about Abigail Weeks, some strange alchemy in her determined face, that made Marcus’ heart feel warm. Hot, even—as if some spark had been lit at the very centre of him.
No. ‘Then I will resist instructing you any further, Miss Weeks. In fact, I’ll resist speaking to you at all.’
‘You don’t have to take umbrage with me.’
‘I’m—I’m not taking umbrage with you.’ Why was it impossible to maintain a dignified silence when it came to this woman? He’d only known her for half an hour and yet they were… well. Bickering. ‘I—you do realise that you’ve created something of an inconvenience for me?’
‘How is kidnapping someone an inconvenience for a highwayman?’
‘It means I’ll definitely be hanged if I’m caught.’
‘You’d be hanged anyway. You stole the Temperley emerald necklace. I think Lady Temperley would hang you herself.’
‘Well, I—it definitely removes any chance of a pardon.’
‘No-one’s going to catch us. Catch me.’ Abigail paused. ‘In fact, I’m fairly sure my father will spend three days bemoaning the price of summoning a militia before he goes to the trouble of doing so.’
She said such devastating words as if she were merely relating a dull fact, like the weather or the price of a bun. Marcus stopped, the breath briefly robbed of his lungs.
Who wouldn’t rip heaven and earth apart in the attempt to save one’s flesh and blood? His parents were gone now, but he’d never doubted the strength of their love for him. Even his early peccadilloes, his first attempts at daring thievery, were treated more with begrudging admiration than any real punishment.
And now here was Abigail Weeks, calmly telling him that her father would care more about the cost of finding her than having her safe and well. Saying it as if her lack of worth was so obvious to everyone, so glaringly evident, that such hideous conduct wouldn’t be a surprise. ‘You can’t mean that.’
‘Sir… you don’t wish to educate me as to what highwaymen do and don’t do.’ Abigail sighed. ‘And if we are to be honest with one another, I don’t wish to educate you too deeply when it comes to my life. The facts are these—I was to be married to a vile person, I didn’t wish to be, and my father will very probably consider it too much trouble and expense to find me. That’s all. And if you will do me the courtesy of sheltering me here for two days, three at the most, the friends I have that are sympathetic to my cause will send me a ticket to the Continent and enough money to both pay you for your services and make my way out of England in at least a somewhat dignified state. That’s all you need to do. All I need from you.’
Marcus blinked. Abigail had said the last part of her quiet declaration almost as if it were an order. Do nothing but shelter me.
Don’t be kind to me. Don’t care about me in any way.
A perfect job for a highwayman. Money for nothing, really. But in terms of caring, of kindness… oh, fuck, it was probably already too late.
He’d do his best to feel nothing at all for Abigail Weeks. But pity, sympathy… those were acceptable, weren’t they?
‘Fine. No education.’ He spoke more gently than he meant to. Abigail’s eyes widened; she took a step closer to him, her shadow long and thin on the cave floor. ‘You’ll have shelter here for as long as you need it.’
‘In terms of a fair fee for your services--’
‘That can be discussed at the end of your stay.’
‘I don’t eat much.’
You should eat more. ‘Good. We don’t have much.’
‘And I can’t promise I won’t be irritating.’
‘You’ve already profoundly irritated me, and we’ve only known one another for a relatively short time.’ Marcus paused, hoping Abigail could see the humour in his expression. ‘I would expect nothing less.’
Abigail eventually smiled. The softness it brought to her face, the sudden lightness that came to her warm blue eyes, made the cave seem like a refuge from the world rather than a simple place to count treasure and lay one’s head.
‘Well. Now that things are settled, I must write to my two dearest friends tomorrow and inform them of my safety. Obviously I won’t reveal my location.’ Abigail turned to neatly arrange a discarded pile of bridles and bits in a nearby niche in the cave wall as she spoke; Marcus watched her, mesmerised by her careful movements. How could such delicacy and such impetuous madness exist in the same woman? ‘I will arrange a place to be found, of course, and discuss payment terms with both you and them--’
‘Fine.’ Marcus wasn’t used to talking to anyone after a successful robbery. Not only had this robbery been most unsuccessful by any conventional standards, but the loot he’d stolen was now tidying his lair and organising tomorrow’s tasks. ‘But—but nothing else now. It’s long past midnight.’
‘Oh—goodness.’ Abigail held a hand to her mouth as she turned to the cave mouth. The starlight on her face made Marcus shiver. ‘I suppose it is.’
