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Hopefully, a fright was the most damage they would deal her.
“She dinna look frightened,” Lionel muttered, swatting a bug from his cheek.
Thaddeus ignored his man-in-training. For the first time since he’d left his Scottish home for London, he wished for a pistol. He had one small dagger hidden in his boot. Fortunately, his throwing aim was impeccable. Slowly, he reached for the blade, ensuring the grass and thickets did not rustle and give away his position. Lionel also held himself still, his narrowed gaze firmly on the lass. The knife in his grip, Thaddeus assessed the angle between him and the man with the pistol, the one who advanced on the lass with plain intent to subdue her. She was young; Thaddeus did not want to kill the man in front of her. But he had little choice. To throw his dagger to pierce the hand with the pistol was too risky. The gun could go off. He could miss.
He started to rise. Once they detected him, the shock would send the ruffians one of two ways. Either they would rush her to claim her as a hostage, or they would charge him instead. If the men tried to reach her, Thaddeus would—
“Fucking hell!” he cursed as the girl suddenly leaped toward the man coming at her.
A blade appeared from thin air. He blamed the overcast sky as to why he hadn’t noticed it in her grasp before. With one graceful and very skilled slash and thrust, the man cried out. The pistol dropped from his hand and into a rut by the carriage wheel. Before either man took stock of the situation, the lass had the blade pressed to the pistol-wielder’s throat. If he dared to swallow, he might nick his Adam’s apple.
Thaddeus was terribly impressed. He stayed in his half-crouch and keenly assessed the situation.
“Did ye see it?” Lionel gasped, awe heavy in his tone. “I canna bleedin’ believe it! Did ye see it, milord?”
“I did,” Thaddeus replied, never taking his gaze from her.
The lass lifted her chin. “Good sirs, I might be small in stature, but I am very ferocious, especially when it comes to protecting what is important to me. I am also the sister of a duke. I can kill you both, and I will be toasted for my actions.”
Though her voice trembled slightly on the word ‘kill,’ Thaddeus believed her. Yet her claims begged more questions than they answered.
What in bloody hell was the sister of a duke doing alone on the road? There was a story there, a very interesting one perhaps.
“Now, why are you still here?” she drawled with an icy bite.
Thaddeus stared in bemused amusement as the two men turned tail and ran away from the wee lass as if she were the devil.
“Hand me my bow,” she said crisply.
The door to the carriage swung open, and a hand pushed through with a sleek bow, already strung, and an arrow which she nocked. Thaddeus couldn’t breathe through the burn of anger in his throat. He’d assumed she was alone, her footmen scared off. Her companions in the carriage should feel eternal shame that they had allowed a child to handle this mess on her own. To his continued amazement, she adjusted the arrow and smoothly pulled back the string. But she didn’t aim the bow at the retreating highwaymen.
She pointed the blasted thing at him.
Lionel stiffened and whispered, “I believe she ken we are here!”
“My good sir in the puce jacket, are you going to continue hiding?”
Puce?His jacket was brown. Hiding? Thaddeus was affronted and intrigued.
“I think she means ye, Yer Lordship,” Lionel muttered.
Thaddeus lightly slapped Lionel’s hat. “Under no circumstances are you to refer to me as lordship in her presence.”
His young valet gawked. “Why not?”
“Is it I who work for you?”
Lionel grinned. “Yes, Yer Lordship. What should I call ye?”
“Mister will do,” Thaddeus muttered, wondering once again why he had taken the little scamp with him on his journey. Thaddeus slipped the dagger back into his boot and pushed to his feet, lazily brushing the grass from his jacket and trousers. Then he ambled closer to her, only to pause when her steady hands shifted, and that arrow aimed for his heart.
“My good lass,” he drawled, waving his arms outward from his body. “I urge you to lower your weapon. I mean you no harm.”
An unexpected smile bloomed on her mouth, rocking him back on his heels as he got a closer look at her. This was no young lass. A sudden jerk of his heart had him slowing his steps. Discreetly, he ran his gaze over the length of her body. Bloody hell. She was exquisitely curved, and the yellow dress flattered her figure. Even the bulge of sleek muscle in her arms as she held the bow was dangerously appealing. Quickly, he lifted his gaze to her face, halfway hidden by the shadows of the bonnet. She was older than he had assumed.
That blasted arrow was still firmly aimed at him. This much closer, he spied the fright in her large and quite lovely grey-blue eyes. So she had been frightened after all, but had possessed enough sense of self to deal with the situation admirably. Even grown men would have faltered under the threat of a shovel and a steadily aimed pistol.
“You were hiding in the bush,” she said.
