his cavalier's hat fluttered as he rode, and beneath it he wore a long, crimped brown periwig that rather reminded her of her twin Ford's hair. But she was certain the highwayman's real hair wasn't brown. Though many men had shaven heads under their periwigs, he wouldn't. His own hair would be cut short, but not off , certainly—she shuddered at the thought—and it would be golden. Amber.
"Are thee going to let him get away with this?" the Puritan demanded, clambering up and glaring at her brothers with their rapiers at their sides.
One of Jason's black brows rose, and he spoke for them both. "I expect so."
The coach lurched and they continued on, but the atmosphere was decidedly strained, and the Puritan got off at the next stop.
Kendra moved to sit in the now-vacant spot beside Ford. "A highwayman," she breathed as soon as the carriage resumed moving.
"Why didn't he rob us?" Caithren asked. "How is it you know him? He called you a friend."
"He uses the term lightly." Jason's smile was enigmatic. "We've run into him before. But he's never robbed us."
"He didn't look like he needed to rob anybody," Kendra pointed out. "His suit was nicer than yours."
He'd looked nicer than Jason all around, she mused. Not that Jason wasn't handsome, but he had the general look of her family, a look she was inured to, to say the least. This man, on the other hand, had looked…exotic. All golden and dressed in black—black suit, black shirt, black boots, black mask—not the look of your typical scruffy felon, that was for sure.
Jason shrugged, absently running a hand through his wife's straight, dark-blond hair. "Almost anyone can afford one nice suit of clothes, if he makes it his priority. You cannot judge a man by his looks, Kendra."
But of course she had. Judged him, and liked what she saw.
Jason raised Cait's hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles, earning a soft smile in return. "Perhaps we should turn him in," he suggested playfully. "This is getting to be somewhat of a nuisance."
"You wouldn't dare!" Kendra burst out. "He's…well…he'd fit in at court. And he robbed only the Puritan. I'd wager he's a Royalist."
"There could be a reward for him. And Lakefield House is in sad shape," Viscount Lakefield, otherwise known as Ford, lamented half-seriously. "I cannot live with Jason forever."
"Oh, yes, you can," Kendra said heatedly.
Jason turned to her. "Is it that important to you, then? I didn't realize your Royalist loyalty ran so deep."
"Well…it does," she declared, thinking about the highwayman's broad shoulders.
"Well, then." Ford's deep-blue eyes gleamed with mischief. "I suppose we'll have to leave him be. At least it provides him with a stake for the card games."
Jason glared at their brother.
"What?" Kendra asked. "What card games?"
"All highwaymen play cards," Jason said firmly. He picked up their own deck and shuffled it expertly, then dealt out new hands.
Kendra arranged her cards slowly, her mind not on the game.
She remembered the highwayman's voice. He'd spoken cautiously, as though he were considering each word. Not like her family. The Chases, as a rule, blurted everything that came into their heads, generally at the tops of their lungs.
"What was his accent?" she asked. "Did you hear it?"
"Scots, aye?" Cait said, exaggerating the burr she was born to. "Though I'd guess he hasn't been home for many a year. I'm surprised you even noticed."
When Jason looked up sharply, Kendra pretended to study her fan of cards. He frowned back down at his own hand. "Why do you want to know?"
Why? She could scarcely comprehend such a stupid question. She wanted to know everything about the mysterious highwayman.
"Just curious," she said lightly, leading with a jack of hearts. "Your turn."
Kendra awoke the next morning with a massive headache. Jason couldn't be serious. After her disastrous interview with the Duke of Lechmere, he'd laid down the law: she would be wed by summer's end.
He and Ford
"Are thee going to let him get away with this?" the Puritan demanded, clambering up and glaring at her brothers with their rapiers at their sides.
One of Jason's black brows rose, and he spoke for them both. "I expect so."
The coach lurched and they continued on, but the atmosphere was decidedly strained, and the Puritan got off at the next stop.
Kendra moved to sit in the now-vacant spot beside Ford. "A highwayman," she breathed as soon as the carriage resumed moving.
"Why didn't he rob us?" Caithren asked. "How is it you know him? He called you a friend."
"He uses the term lightly." Jason's smile was enigmatic. "We've run into him before. But he's never robbed us."
"He didn't look like he needed to rob anybody," Kendra pointed out. "His suit was nicer than yours."
He'd looked nicer than Jason all around, she mused. Not that Jason wasn't handsome, but he had the general look of her family, a look she was inured to, to say the least. This man, on the other hand, had looked…exotic. All golden and dressed in black—black suit, black shirt, black boots, black mask—not the look of your typical scruffy felon, that was for sure.
Jason shrugged, absently running a hand through his wife's straight, dark-blond hair. "Almost anyone can afford one nice suit of clothes, if he makes it his priority. You cannot judge a man by his looks, Kendra."
But of course she had. Judged him, and liked what she saw.
Jason raised Cait's hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles, earning a soft smile in return. "Perhaps we should turn him in," he suggested playfully. "This is getting to be somewhat of a nuisance."
"You wouldn't dare!" Kendra burst out. "He's…well…he'd fit in at court. And he robbed only the Puritan. I'd wager he's a Royalist."
"There could be a reward for him. And Lakefield House is in sad shape," Viscount Lakefield, otherwise known as Ford, lamented half-seriously. "I cannot live with Jason forever."
"Oh, yes, you can," Kendra said heatedly.
Jason turned to her. "Is it that important to you, then? I didn't realize your Royalist loyalty ran so deep."
"Well…it does," she declared, thinking about the highwayman's broad shoulders.
"Well, then." Ford's deep-blue eyes gleamed with mischief. "I suppose we'll have to leave him be. At least it provides him with a stake for the card games."
Jason glared at their brother.
"What?" Kendra asked. "What card games?"
"All highwaymen play cards," Jason said firmly. He picked up their own deck and shuffled it expertly, then dealt out new hands.
Kendra arranged her cards slowly, her mind not on the game.
She remembered the highwayman's voice. He'd spoken cautiously, as though he were considering each word. Not like her family. The Chases, as a rule, blurted everything that came into their heads, generally at the tops of their lungs.
"What was his accent?" she asked. "Did you hear it?"
"Scots, aye?" Cait said, exaggerating the burr she was born to. "Though I'd guess he hasn't been home for many a year. I'm surprised you even noticed."
When Jason looked up sharply, Kendra pretended to study her fan of cards. He frowned back down at his own hand. "Why do you want to know?"
Why? She could scarcely comprehend such a stupid question. She wanted to know everything about the mysterious highwayman.
"Just curious," she said lightly, leading with a jack of hearts. "Your turn."
Kendra awoke the next morning with a massive headache. Jason couldn't be serious. After her disastrous interview with the Duke of Lechmere, he'd laid down the law: she would be wed by summer's end.
He and Ford
Similar Books
