accusing eyes turned toward Cole.
Cole straightened, quelling the urge to flex the fingers of his right hand; Jack's jaw had been monstrous solid. He cleared his throat. "I see no need for further confrontation. It has become quite obvious to me that I misjudged the situation. I had thought Miss Marcie was in trouble. Clearly, I was wrong," he announced.
Jack gave a crooked grin up at Cole. "No need to apologize, Cole Coachman. As I figure it, you had every right to cut me down to size seeing as how I waylaid your coach and all. Truth be known, I feel a world better now that you've taken a swing at me. As I see it, we're even as even can be, eh?"
Cole quelled the urge to haul the slippery thief to his feet and knock him down yet again. Even indeed.
Feeling outnumbered, though, he held his tongue—and stayed his temper. What mattered most to Cole at the moment was regaining Marcie's trust. He'd made a perfect idiot of himself in her eyes, no doubt. She must think him an uncouth beast.
To Marcie, he said, "Our coach leaves for Burford within the quarter hour. If you return to the inn, you'll find Nan and Miss Deirdre relaxing in a private parlour. You'll find some food there as well."
Marcie turned her face away from him. "I am not hungry," she said. "I've decided to stay here, with my friends."
"Surely you cannot be serious!"
"And why not?" she brazenly challenged.
Damn, thought Cole, but she could be a mulish miss! Too bad for him that she'd quite enraptured him with her mischievous ways and quicksilver moods.
She looked a perfect hoyden with her hair all a-tumble and her eyes bright with passion. Since she had relieved herself of her fur-lined pelisse, Cole found himself viewing the full luster of her charms. She was not the too-thin runaway he'd first imagined. Indeed, her comely curves were very much in evidence beneath her pretty gown. Her bosom heaved with righteous indignation, and Cole found himself remembering all too clearly the sight of her lovely ankles, shown to great advantage just moments ago.
It wouldn't do at all for him to become doe-eyed now, thought Cole sternly. He must hold his meandering thoughts in check. She was his passenger, and like it or not, his responsibility. He couldn't very well allow her her own head and leave her to this mishmash of "friends" she thought she'd found.
"You told me yourself you wish to arrive at the inn of Burford, posthaste," he said.
"And so I shall," replied Miss Marcie. "Jack has promised to see me safely to the inn."
"Oh, he has, has he?"
"Yes," said Miss Marcie, a bit too defiant.
Cole's jaw tightened. The girl needed a strict rein.
One young lad mustered the wherewithal to stand up and face Cole. "We were just having a bit o' fun, Cole Coachman. The mistress taught us all how to roll her lucky ivories. Why, I even won me a strand of pearls. And Jack, he won some sugar fer his horse. And then, well, we all got a mite carried away with our winnings, and soon we were dancing a jig. Miss Marcie dances the best jig I ever did see! But I got to spinning her too fast and before I knew it she was tumbling down into the hay. Jack only tried to soften her fall, he did. That's all there was to it. Just a dance. Nothing more."
Cole didn't know whether to smile or be outraged. His Mistress Mischief had been gambling and dancing... in a stable, no less. Had he saved her from a stuffy school only to cast her into an even worse scenario? And now the chit thought to stay on at the inn and allow the highwayman to transport her "safely" to Burford.
Unbelievable.
Cole fought hard to contain his temper, as well as his feelings of guilt. For all he knew, the girl would sprint off with Jack and soon become mistress to a highwayman!
"Miss Marcie," said Cole, his voice clipped, "I would have a word with you. Alone."
Marcie lifted her chin. "I see no need—"
"Now," said Cole, moving forward and reaching for her.
The runaway schoolgirl had no choice but to do as he asked.
Cole straightened, quelling the urge to flex the fingers of his right hand; Jack's jaw had been monstrous solid. He cleared his throat. "I see no need for further confrontation. It has become quite obvious to me that I misjudged the situation. I had thought Miss Marcie was in trouble. Clearly, I was wrong," he announced.
Jack gave a crooked grin up at Cole. "No need to apologize, Cole Coachman. As I figure it, you had every right to cut me down to size seeing as how I waylaid your coach and all. Truth be known, I feel a world better now that you've taken a swing at me. As I see it, we're even as even can be, eh?"
Cole quelled the urge to haul the slippery thief to his feet and knock him down yet again. Even indeed.
Feeling outnumbered, though, he held his tongue—and stayed his temper. What mattered most to Cole at the moment was regaining Marcie's trust. He'd made a perfect idiot of himself in her eyes, no doubt. She must think him an uncouth beast.
To Marcie, he said, "Our coach leaves for Burford within the quarter hour. If you return to the inn, you'll find Nan and Miss Deirdre relaxing in a private parlour. You'll find some food there as well."
Marcie turned her face away from him. "I am not hungry," she said. "I've decided to stay here, with my friends."
"Surely you cannot be serious!"
"And why not?" she brazenly challenged.
Damn, thought Cole, but she could be a mulish miss! Too bad for him that she'd quite enraptured him with her mischievous ways and quicksilver moods.
She looked a perfect hoyden with her hair all a-tumble and her eyes bright with passion. Since she had relieved herself of her fur-lined pelisse, Cole found himself viewing the full luster of her charms. She was not the too-thin runaway he'd first imagined. Indeed, her comely curves were very much in evidence beneath her pretty gown. Her bosom heaved with righteous indignation, and Cole found himself remembering all too clearly the sight of her lovely ankles, shown to great advantage just moments ago.
It wouldn't do at all for him to become doe-eyed now, thought Cole sternly. He must hold his meandering thoughts in check. She was his passenger, and like it or not, his responsibility. He couldn't very well allow her her own head and leave her to this mishmash of "friends" she thought she'd found.
"You told me yourself you wish to arrive at the inn of Burford, posthaste," he said.
"And so I shall," replied Miss Marcie. "Jack has promised to see me safely to the inn."
"Oh, he has, has he?"
"Yes," said Miss Marcie, a bit too defiant.
Cole's jaw tightened. The girl needed a strict rein.
One young lad mustered the wherewithal to stand up and face Cole. "We were just having a bit o' fun, Cole Coachman. The mistress taught us all how to roll her lucky ivories. Why, I even won me a strand of pearls. And Jack, he won some sugar fer his horse. And then, well, we all got a mite carried away with our winnings, and soon we were dancing a jig. Miss Marcie dances the best jig I ever did see! But I got to spinning her too fast and before I knew it she was tumbling down into the hay. Jack only tried to soften her fall, he did. That's all there was to it. Just a dance. Nothing more."
Cole didn't know whether to smile or be outraged. His Mistress Mischief had been gambling and dancing... in a stable, no less. Had he saved her from a stuffy school only to cast her into an even worse scenario? And now the chit thought to stay on at the inn and allow the highwayman to transport her "safely" to Burford.
Unbelievable.
Cole fought hard to contain his temper, as well as his feelings of guilt. For all he knew, the girl would sprint off with Jack and soon become mistress to a highwayman!
"Miss Marcie," said Cole, his voice clipped, "I would have a word with you. Alone."
Marcie lifted her chin. "I see no need—"
"Now," said Cole, moving forward and reaching for her.
The runaway schoolgirl had no choice but to do as he asked.
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