the devil did you wear that for?’ he said impatiently even as he moved into action. He tugged off his greatcoat, tossed it in an ungainly pile on the seat facing him, and plucked a pistol from the coach pocket.
Alicia was about to retort hotly when the door was pulled open and a giant of a man filled the frame, musket in hand.
‘Your valuables, if you please, sir,’ he said in a deep voice.
Michael considered how best to deal with this rather large-looking person.
‘My purse is in my coat.’ He nodded at the lump of cloth on the seat opposite. ‘If you will allow me to reach for it...?’
The giant grunted. ‘If you don’t mind, sir, I’ll do that myself. If you’ll sit well back, sir,’ he continued, keeping his musket trained on them.
Michael did not mind in the least. Polite chap, he thought sardonically as the giant cautiously leaned over to reach for the coat, allowing Michael a view of the other rider illuminated by the carriage lamps.
Michael took a deep breath before he moved. It took no more than a few seconds to slam the butt of his pistol against the back of the giant’s head with his left hand while he grabbed the man’s weapon with his right. He took aim at the other rider outside and fired the musket.
The giant slumped to the floor at his feet, but to his frustration the rider was still in the saddle, his pistol now trained straight at Michael. Michael quickly switched his own loaded pistol to his right hand, aiming back. He cursed silently. He was sure he had scored a hit.
‘It throws right, sir,’ said the rider calmly. ‘It is always risky to borrow someone else’s firearm.’
He almost faltered at the voice and he heard his sister give a faint squeak of surprise. It was deep and intentionally husky, but most definitely a woman’s voice and a cultured one... He contained his surprise and focused on the problem at hand.
‘It seems we are at an impasse,’ he said after a moment.
‘Indeed,’ the robber replied laconically, not appearing the least bit concerned. ‘Still, I am sure we can reach an understanding.’
He marvelled at the steadiness of her aim. It was no simple feat to keep a pistol firmly trained for any length of time. Nevertheless, he had little doubt he had the advantage. He heard a moan from outside, no doubt from his servant reviving. Surely she realised there was no way she could win this standoff? And yet she sat there calmly, apparently unconcerned. An ‘understanding’. An outrageous idea flickered through his mind. The giant groaned at his feet. Obviously, he had not hit him hard enough. The man must have a head like a rock.
‘An understanding?’ he queried politely.
‘It is late, sir. I have no doubt you and...the lady...are anxious for your bed.’
Michael’s hand tightened on his pistol at the insinuation.
‘You let my friend go and toss his musket after him and we will let you be on your way.’
‘That is a rather generous hand you are dealing yourself,’ he replied.
‘You have some use for a pre-war musket then, sir?’ she asked mockingly.
He paused, interested in testing this further. The idea had settled like a butterfly on a blade of grass. It was still tenuous, but it had potential.
‘What would you say to another arrangement? You run along and I will keep your big friend. I will even give you a pound for him. You could buy two better highwaymen at the price—’
He was cut off as a bullet tore through the squabs, inches from his head. He had to hold himself back from returning the compliment, with more extreme effects. He kept his arm firm despite the heat of sudden rage that surged through him.
‘I don’t sell out my friends,’ she bit out.
Her voice shook slightly as she swiftly pulled another pistol from her saddle and cocked it. He saw her arm waver again as she raised it. She was tiring, he realised, his calm returning. He had tested her and he should be happy that she had exceeded his expectations.
‘Miss, now be good and take yerself off, as the gentleman said,’ the giant said from the floor, surprising them all.
Michael decided to cut to the chase before they got into further unnecessary arguments.
‘All right, enough nonsense. You, man, get up and step back. The three of us are going to have a little talk.’
The giant hauled himself up and groggily stepped back onto the road. Michael stepped down after him. He knew it was a risk, but he had a feeling he understood the parameters of this particular game. As he descended, he noticed the mangled remains of his coachman’s rifle that lay on the road and his brows rose in appreciation. So that shot had not been mere luck.
‘Higgins, unhook a lamp for me and back on the coach with you. And, McCabe—I want you to pull up the road some twenty yards and wait for me there.’
‘My lord?’ The coachman faltered.
‘I believe I was clear, was I not?’
‘Yes, my lord.’ When he employed that tone his men knew it was best to act swiftly and without argument.
With a lamp in one hand and his pistol in the other, Michael faced his assailants. He surveyed the woman first. She had lowered her firearm and was resting it on the pommel of her saddle. In the lamplight he caught the glint of light-coloured eyes above a black kerchief. He bent to set the lamp carefully at their feet and noticed something else. A small dark puddle on the ground just by her horse. The giant noticed it at the same moment.
‘You’re hit, miss!’ he exclaimed.
‘Not hit. Grazed. I am perfectly fine.’
Michael stared at the rider. Up close he could see she was smaller than he had expected. And she had sat there holding him marked throughout this whole episode with a bullet wound. His resolve grew. This could prove extremely interesting.
‘You should see a doctor,’ he said mildly.
‘Of your offering? Make sure we go healthy to the gallows? No, I thank you. What the devil do you want?’ The veneer of politeness faded and he could hear the edge of pain in her voice. He decided to move quickly to his proposal before she fell off her horse. He had much rather they depart under their own steam.
‘I have no intention of seeing you to the gallows. In fact, I have a business proposition for you, young woman. I would like to offer you a job at a government institution I help operate and where I believe your particular skills may be...useful. It is all above board, if that has any appeal. And with good pay. Twenty pounds a month to start with and more if you prove suitable.’
* * *
Sari stared down at the madman standing before them. Now she knew what they meant when they said ‘mad as a lord’. Or was it ‘drunk as a lord’? And yet he had hardly appeared mad or foxed.
It had seemed endless, but the whole affair had probably not lasted more than a few minutes. The numbing throb
