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“Ah…not hiding. I was…camouflaged, at one with the grass while I decided the best way to rescue you from those villains’ clutches.” Thaddeus offered her a smile he hoped she would share. “Alas, I tarried too long, and you handled the situation most impressively.”
“A man in the bush watching while you were accosted? That’s mighty suspicious, my lady.” The voice, feminine, was a bit muted from the carriage but held a similar accent. “A gentleman would not have hidden! He would have stepped forward valiantly and confronted the ruffians, even at the risk of his life.”
The lass nodded as if in firm agreement with that ridiculous assessment.
“No one of good sense would rush headlong into a situation with a lady’s life in danger without first assessing the possibilities,” he retorted drily. “I believed they would not have shot you or beat you with the shovel. It was the money they wanted.”
They probably had families to feed. Not that Thaddeus could sympathize with their methods. They could have killed an older, less hardy woman with fright alone.
Her gaze swept over him in a thorough appraisal. He was a tall man, more on the lanky side, and he enjoyed fashion. Thaddeus owned some bulk which was celebrated in the Northern Isles of Scotland, but here near London was seen as common. Her attention lingered on the breath of his shoulders before her gaze snapped to his. Thaddeus recognized the moment she decided he was a threat. Bloody hell! Thaddeus lunged toward her, dodging to the right to narrowly miss the arrow she set loose.
The little minx would have shot him! Keeping his strength upmost in his thoughts, he grabbed her elbow with one hand while deftly twisting the bow from her grip with the other. To his surprise, she twisted in his grasp—the movement smooth and practiced—easily breaking his hold and lashed out with one of her feet to tumble him to the ground.
His fascination rapidly multiplied; Thaddeus went down chuckling. Except he took her with him. The bonnet—yellow to match her dress—tumbled from her head, and a mass of beautiful hair cascaded from her chignon. Wide grey-blue eyes collided with his and stole the breath from his lungs. By God, not only did she possess the courage of ten gentlemen, but the lass was remarkably pretty. An absolute piece of perfection. His body thunked against the ground and she landed on top him with a startled cry, her delicate breasts searing into his midsection. His hands tightened reflexively on her hips, an instinctive reaction to the lush softness pressed against his body, the subtle but arousing scent of her skin invading his senses.
Something cold brushed against the underside of his jaw.
“Ah, lass, marry me,” he said teasingly after noting the blade at his throat. “I’ll have no other but you.”
She gasped, her eyes widening. “You rogue! Unhand me at once!”
He had forgotten the intimate way he held her close. Thaddeus released her hips with a silent curse and opened his arms wide, a gesture to show he was innocent.
With a scoff, she struggled to stand.
She didn’t sheathe her dagger.
“For the love of God, remember that you have a dagger near my throat.” He tried to keep his tone mild, but he feared the tension he felt leaked out. “And your knee is perilously close to my…ah…it is close…”
The carriage rocked with a commotion, drowning out the end of his sentence. Not that he’d been certain how to finish it. The door opened with a smack and two other ladies jumped down. Though neither was particularly large, he felt the vibrations of their landing in his shoulders. The two-team horses fussed. One reared, the motion pulling the harness tight around the other, who neighed and danced in place. One of the ladies was dressed simply, in the fashion of a maidservant. She wore a dark-colored greatcoat and a very plain bonnet. The maid hurried to the horse, catching it by the bridle to hold it to the road and rubbing its head to calm the horse.
“Perdie,” the other lady gasped after taking in their scandalous sprawl. “This is beyond unseemly! Hurry to your feet.”
That flustered lady, also young, scurried over, her face a portrait of affront. As she fussed with Lady Perdie and helped the lass to her feet, Thaddeus remained perfectly still. She still held the bloody dagger.
Perdie. Lovely name for a lovely lass.
“I’m quite all right, Felicity,” Lady Perdie said. Perfectly composed, she slipped the dagger into her boot before she brushed the grass from her gown. “Nothing more alarming than a small mishap. A misunderstanding, I trust. A gentleman wouldn’t have tried to attack me.”
A lady wouldn’t have shot at me with an arrow.As he thrust himself onto his elbows, he assessed her once more. Perhaps this lady would have. She ignored him as she tramped across the dusty road to where her bonnet had fallen, talking all the while.
“However, as I’m sure the gentleman must see, the danger has passed. We must hurry and be on our way. The air grows colder, and I suspect it will rain shortly.”
No, not the bonnet. She was reaching into the rut where the pistol had fallen.
Bloody hell.
Thaddeus took his time coming to his feet, if only so he wouldn’t be summarily shot. Her two traveling companions closed ranks with her as she retrieved the pistol and straightened.
Three ladies traveling alone. And they were all incredibly young, not a one of them older than twenty or one and twenty, at his guess. Which fool duke would allow such treasures to undertake such a dangerous journey without the protection of at least three armed footmen? They were at least twenty-five miles from any respectable inn in either direction. Given the condition of the roads, that was another three or four hours of travel by coach.
“May I ask after your coachman, ladies?” he asked, faintly surprised. “It cannot be possible that you are traveling alone?”
“That is not your concern,” Lady Perdie said crisply, with a slight flush tinting her rosy cheeks.
She was breathtaking with her cheeks flushed from exertion and her hair in disarray. She was also holding a pistol she very likely did not know how to use. He didn’t step closer, but held out his hand, palm-up.
“I think it is my concern. If you’ve no one to take charge of the pistol, I’ll have it.”
