then subsided.
Lucy began to cry again, mopping away her tears with the corner of her apron. “Oh, miss, I knew you could help him.”
Nicola smiled. “Just do this when he gets an attack. The steam opens up his throat so he can breathe better. Put warm poultices on his feet tonight. I’ll give you a bag of wild plum bark for you to make him tea. Give it to him several times a day.”
Lucy nodded fervently, repeating “yes, miss, oh, yes, miss” like a magic incantation. When the baby’s cough had died away, she took the child and put him tenderly to bed, then returned to Nicola so she could demonstrate how to make the hot poultices for his feet. Lastly, Nicola dipped out a small amount of dried bark into a sack and handed it to her.
“I shall send you more if you need it. I have given out all the rest of it this afternoon, but I can get more when I get back to Tidings. So let me know. Any time he has another coughing fit, you be sure to put him under the tent with steam.”
“Oh, I will, miss, I will. Lord love you, miss.” She grabbed Nicola’s hand and would have kissed it had Nicola not pulled her hand away and given Lucy a hug instead.
“Send for me if something happens,” Nicola told her. “Promise me.”
“I will. I promise.”
After several more protracted thank-yous from Lucy and her husband, Nicola managed to leave. Frank insisted on walking her back to the inn’s stable, just to make sure she was safe, for it was late in the evening by the time Nicola finished.
The ostler at the inn seemed equally troubled at the idea of a lady riding back to Tidings in the dark evening, but Nicola brushed aside his offer of an escort. She knew that no one who lived around here would do her harm, nor was she afraid of the legends of fire-breathing hounds and ghostly carriages that kept most local people firmly inside their houses after dark. There was the highwayman, of course. The thought of him sent a strange chill down her spine. But, she reasoned, he would not bother with such paltry game as a lone female rider. It was a trifle chilly, but her cloak would keep her warm.
She left the village, letting her mare pick her way, for the sliver of new moon provided little light. It was a cloudless evening, and the stars were already shining brightly in the sky. Nicola rode along, letting her thoughts drift as she contemplated the dark velvet sky. She felt tired, but satisfied. It was always rewarding to be able to help someone, especially when it was a child’s life at stake. Lucy’s baby, she thought, would recover, though it might take a while for the illness to run its course.
Ahead of her a copse of trees lay beside the road, and as she neared it, a man on horseback rode out from the shadows beneath the trees. Nicola sucked in her breath, her heart beginning to pound, and pulled back automatically on her reins, stopping her horse.
The man rode toward her without haste, and Nicola watched him, her mouth dry. He was dressed all in black, and under his hat his face was unnaturally dark. She knew without a doubt that it was the highwayman. So she had been wrong. He would stoop to accost a lone woman. Her hands tightened on the reins as she debated whether to turn and flee toward the village, but she could not bear to play the coward in front of this man. Besides, she reminded herself practically, his horse looked powerful, and she suspected that he would catch up with her if she did run. Better to stand and face the danger. That had always been her way.
She waited, chin lifting unconsciously. The man stopped a few feet from her and swept off his hat, bowing to her. A smile played on his lips. “Well, my lady. A bit dangerous for you to be out this late, isn’t it? Alone? In the dark?”
CHAPTER FIVE
NICOLA KEPT HER VOICE EVEN AS SHE replied, “I haven’t been afraid of the dark since I was a child.”
“Nevertheless, I think I should escort you home. We would not want any harm to befall you while you were out playing Lady Bountiful, now would we?”
“Since you are the only person around here who would harm me, I see little point in your escort.”
“I? Wish you harm? You wound me.” His teeth flashed white in the dimness.
“What else would you call stopping my carriage and robbing me at gunpoint?” Nicola responded tartly.
“But I offered no harm to your person. Surely you realize that.”
Nicola shot him a hard look. “You forced yourself upon me.”
“Forced myself!” He began to laugh. “My dear lady, stealing one little kiss is hardly ‘forcing myself upon you.’ Besides, I believe you paid me back well enough for that.” He rubbed his cheek ruefully. “You pack quite a wallop.”
“What nonsense. I didn’t hurt you.”
“Oh, but you did. Imagine my wounded pride after you gave me such a setdown—and in front of all my men, too.”
“Is that why you are here? To exact revenge on me? To salve your pride?”
“You are an exceedingly suspicious woman. I thought I had established that I was not here to harm you but to make sure that you get home safely.”
“Oh, yes. Silly of me to think otherwise.”
Nicola glanced sideways at him. He looked the personification of wickedness and danger, masked and dressed all in black, yet the way her pulse quickened was not entirely due to fear—there was a strange sort of excitement coursing through her, as well, a tingling, eager feeling that unnerved Nicola even as she relished it. She felt quite sure that this was not the kind of reaction she should have to a man like this. His height and the breadth of his shoulders, even the husky rumble of his voice, should inspire fear, not this unfamiliar heat deep in her loins.
As if he could sense the direction of her thoughts, the highwayman turned toward her and smiled—a slow, almost taunting smile.
“Who are you?” Nicola asked abruptly, seeking a subject, any subject, that would break the thrum of sensual tension his smile set off.
“Do you really expect me to tell you that?”
“It seems absurd to call you nothing. It would be better to have a name to put to your face—or, I should say, your lack thereof.”
A brief dip of his head and a wry smile acknowledged her thrust. “God help us, a clever woman.”
“No doubt you prefer a foolish one.”
“Oh, no, my lady, not a foolish one. Indeed, you are to my liking, wit, temper and all. I am a man who likes to live on the edge, you see.” He paused, then added, “One could say the same for you.”
“Nonsense. I am sure the edge would be much too uncomfortable for me.”
“Ah, yes, you are such a conventional—one might even say timid—sort. Running about the countryside alone on horseback after dark.”
“Being in a carriage with a driver and groom did not exactly help me last night, did it? I would say I am as well off on my own. And no one around here would harm me, anyway—present company excepted, of course.”
“I believe that most women would have elected to stay indoors today—and especially
