Games of Pleasure (25 page)

Miracle bit her lip. Why did she feel as if her heart were breaking? Women like her didn't fall in love. They couldn't afford it. Meanwhile, this heir to a dukedom was trying to offer her his friendship and his protection. He would do so in vain, of course. But it was indeed his choice to make.

“You would prefer us to travel just as comrades once again?” she asked.

“God! My body derides the very idea, but I will not take part in this adventure simply from lust.”

“Does your lust offend you so very much?”

“Not really, but I'm damned if I want your favors as payment. We share a mutual enemy. That alone is enough to justify my being here.”

“Then you think I'm entirely mercenary?”

“Even if you are, perhaps I can simply purchase your time instead of your body, to be paid in cash when our adventure is over.”

She stiffened. “I haven't asked for your gifts or your condescension. May I not take pride in my own autonomy? My brother Dillard has invested my savings for me for years. When I reach him, I'll have plenty of money. Travel on with me, if you like, but owe me nothing. I'll accept your company on those terms and no others, at least until the end of this journey.”

“What if I decide that our journey never ends?”

“You won't. Like a magnet to a sword blade, Wyldshay will draw you home, and there's no escaping who I am and what I've done. So I'll throw in my lot with you until I reach my brother's house, but no further.”

“Are all of your relationships with men negotiated clause by careful clause, like contracts?”

“Of course. What else would they be?”

He rode in silence for a moment, though she still felt the heat of his buried rage.

“Then you have my word on it,” he said at last. “We're comrades. Now, since I have no desire to have Hanley catch up with us right now, perhaps we should give some thought to our present predicament.” He eased Beauty back to a walk as they approached the black water. “We need to disappear.”

“Yes, I agree. Lord Hanley went to some pains to remind me that he's feeling very much the avenging angel at the moment. And there was something else—”

“Something else?”

“He wanted to know what I'd done with my valuables. He seemed disproportionately concerned, as if he thought that I'd stolen something from him.”

“And had you?”

“No, I—”

Beauty shied, then jolted to a halt, snorting. Ryder stiffened as if immobilized by ice, his spine rigid. Miracle clutched a handful of mane.

A man had materialized from the darkness to grab the mare's reins near the bit. The pistol in his other hand pointed at Miracle's heart.

A second footpad blocked the ford, light glinting faintly from the barrels of two guns clutched one in each fist.

A third man stood close by Beauty's rump, where Miracle couldn't quite see him.

“Sit tight,” Ryder murmured to Miracle. “One of our new friends is pressing the point of a knife into the small of my back. We are, regrettably, surrounded.”

“Get your hands up!” the man at the ford said. “No funny business.”

Ryder let the reins slip through his fingers, surrendering control of the mare, and held both hands above his head. “Good evening, sir,” he said calmly. “You would seem to have the advantage of us. You will, however, stand aside.”

Doubt shimmered through the night air at the cool, crisp command in Ryder's voice. The footpad clutching the mare's reins seemed to shrink into himself, almost as if he might simply lower his weapon and leave.

But the man at the ford laughed. “Well, if it ain't His Fake Lordship! You never owned them woods and all them ruined pigsties, did you? You had no one there within earshot to help you, at all! You're just a scarecrow like us. Though you had me and Jeb fooled for a moment. What are you, an actor?”

“Something like that. But even though you're as bristling with weaponry as if you'd sprung fully armed from dragon's teeth, you will allow us to pass.”

“Listen to him, lads!” The man stepped forward with belligerent bravado. “Name's Bruiser. You want to offer me a fight for the favor, Miss Molly?”

“If you like. However, I strongly recommend that you do as I suggest, Mr. Bruiser.”

The ruffians' laughter betrayed a dangerously nervous edge, as if they privately feared that Ryder might hold some secret weapon to wreak terrible retribution.

Bruiser set his jaw and gestured with one pistol. “Get down! I won't say it a second time. Nice and easy, and keep your hands where I can see them.”

“And if I don't?”

The man spat. “I'd shoot a fancy fellow like you, as soon as look at him.”

“In that case,” Ryder said, “we surrender.”

Miracle glanced once at his face before she slid to the ground. Flat rage burned in his eyes. Yet he smiled at her, then with both hands still in the air, he kicked one leg forward over the mare's withers and dropped to the road. Beauty jibbed, but Jeb yanked the reins forward over her head and jerked her to a standstill.

“Get the valuables, Tom,” Bruiser said to the man with the knife. “Jeb and I'll keep you covered, so this pretty cove don't try anything foolish.”

“My dear sir,” Ryder said. “I may have made mistakes in my life, but I've never done anything that foolish. You'll find my watch in my inside pocket, along with another that's not quite as fine, but far better than you deserve.”

He stared impassively into space as Tom took his watch and small bag of coins, then Lord Hanley's watch and purse. The thief whistled when he discovered the diamond cravat pin, then he quickly dropped it into a pocket.

Meanwhile, Jeb had looped Beauty's reins over his elbow and was rifling about in her saddlebags. The mare stood quietly, only showing a little nervous white in her eyes as she surrendered to the clumsy handling. Ryder tried to send his mount a silent apology. The mare was just a lovely riding horse, athletic and sound and honest. She knew no more fantastic tricks with which to defend herself from these footpads than Ryder did.

Tom finished his search of Ryder's clothes, patting down his legs and checking his boots. Keeping the knife at the ready, he leered at Miracle. “And what about you, miss? Any pretty baubles hidden under those skirts?”

“A waste of time,” Ryder said. “There's nothing else to be found on either of us, except more nails in your coffin.”

The ruffian thrust the point of his knife beneath Ryder's jaw. “You want me to carve your heart out, Miss Molly?”

Miracle gave a dramatic sigh. “Then you're not going to search me, after all? Oh, sir! That's so very gallant!”

Tom lowered the blade to smirk at her. “Hark at that, lads! The lady don't know that Tom always saves the best for last.”

“Stand still,” Miracle hissed to Ryder. “Do nothing! They want only our money.”

Ryder was hardly aware that he'd moved. Yet he had started to step between Miracle and Tom, only to stare into the barrels of the pistols. One more stride and he would have been either stabbed or gunned down.

He smiled casually and stepped back, though his hands clenched into fists as Tom began an unnecessarily thorough exploration of Miracle's clothes. Fire emanated from his bones to burn intensely in his veins. Afraid that his face must be marked by black lines of impotent rage, Ryder forced himself to gaze away into the darkness.

So much for his vaunted offer of protection! He was just a bloody useless aristocrat, after all, whose fighting experience had been limited to an occasional bout at Gentleman Jackson's, and a little practice at the firing range. Yet Miracle bore the groping fingers with a show of supreme indifference, somehow diffusing Tom's leering pleasure. At last the thief shrugged and turned away.

“Nothing on the mort!” he called to Bruiser. “A fair haul from the cove.”

“Especially that diamond pin?” Ryder asked loudly. “The one that slipped into your pocket?”

Tom spun back, knife raised.

“Stop it!” Miracle hissed under her breath. “You'll not set them against each other. It won't work.”

“If that oaf touches you again—”

“He did me no harm. Meanwhile, you're a keg of powder, almost too dangerous to be around.”

“You've no idea how bloody dangerous I feel.”

“Then take a deep breath,” she whispered back, “and think about buttercups.”

“Shut your traps!” Bruiser shouted.

Ryder almost laughed, though the tension threatened to lift off the top of his head. Whatever Miracle claimed, there was nothing to stop the thugs from shooting their victims and leaving them to die. There was nothing to stop them from first raping Miracle. The thieves had not bothered to conceal their faces. Why would they leave witnesses who could identify them?

Yet Ryder's brain was racing now. His only truly reliable attribute. He took a deep breath, but he did not think about flowers. He concentrated on his mare, her fine nostrils, her delicate ears.

Beauty had raised her head to stare back up the road. As Ryder focused on that bright sensitivity, he began to feel almost supernaturally alive, as if he could see in the dark, or hear the silent hum of the planets wheeling overhead. His rage began to dissipate as he seized on their one chance of survival.

The mare pulled back as Jeb spun about from his search of her saddlebags. “Look at this! The cove had pistols.” He waved one at Ryder and laughed. “You're a pretty Cock Robin, ain't you? To travel along a road like this at night without bothering to reload'em? Robbing a gabey like you is like taking a bottle from a baby.”

“What else would you expect from a poor thespian?” Ryder asked. “As a certain gentleman of Verona once said: ‘'Tis the mind that makes the body rich.' Words, not action, are our gift.”

“Then you'll have to sing for your next supper.” Jeb guffawed at his own wit.

Ryder raised his brows in the exaggerated grimace of a fool. “Alas, although robbed of my paltry savings, I'm far too fine to arouse the sympathy of a crowd. Appearances are everything.” He pressed one hand to his chest. “‘What, is the jay more precious than the lark, because his feathers are more beautiful?'”

“Hark at him go!” Jeb said.

Tom tossed his knife in his hand. “That's a damn nice jacket, ain't it? Nicer than mine.”

“Then I'd be happy to give it to you, sir.”

“You ain't doing the giving. We're doing the taking. Strip it off!”

It allowed Ryder a little free movement. It allowed him to delay a little longer. The music of the planets had begun to sound tinny, as if faraway brass pans were banging against iron pots. The sound was accompanied by a much deeper drumbeat in a oddly dislocated rhythm. Beauty quivered with alertness.

“You would
take
my jacket, sir?” Ryder asked. “But what's the virtue in a gift, if it's forced?”

“We ain't talking about virtue, Miss Molly! We're talking about theft.”

Her brow furrowed, Miracle glanced sharply at Ryder's face. As the men laughed again, he bent his head to hear her frantic whisper: “I know you can fence and box, but for God's sake don't try anything against three loaded pistols.”

He brushed her ear with his lips. His new alertness sang in his blood, as if Orion blew a distant trumpet. “Then you would be sad if I were shot?”

Her eyes widened, but only to reveal a cold, hard core of determination. “Very. You will not intervene, even if they rape me. I want your promise on that!”

“I won't promise any such thing, except that it won't come to that.”

“Stop that whispering!” Bruiser said. “Take off the bloody coat!”

Ryder slipped off his jacket. “Here you are, sir, though I must warn you that this humble item of clothing will almost certainly prove the death of the wearer.”

“Soaked in poison, is it?” The footpad laughed again, before he tossed his own ragged coat into the hedge and shrugged into Ryder's jacket. “Well, if that ain't a nice fit! Don't look half so humble on me!”

“What is this?” Miracle hissed. “Do you know other ways to fight—as your brother does?”

“Not at all! But listen hard! I don't believe I will need to defend your honor with my life, after all.”

The jangle was closer now, accompanied by a distinct rumble and an arrhythmic trotting. It might mean succor, or it might mean more trouble, but it shifted the balance, at least for a few more minutes.

Beauty whinnied. Jeb jerked his head, then turned to stare back up the road. “Someone's coming!”

Still covering Miracle and Ryder with both pistols, Bruiser retreated toward a gap in the hedge. “Come on, lads! That's enough. Bring the nag! She's worth more than all the rest put together.”

“If you take my mare,” Ryder said, “she will kill you.”

The footpads glanced at each other as if shadows reached from the sky with the fingers of death.

“We ain't aiming to ride her, Your Fancy Lordship,” Jeb said with open bravado. “We're aiming to sell her.”

“I cannot impress this on you strongly enough,” Ryder replied, his mind clear as crystal. “If you take that mare, you will hang.”

“Oh, Miss Molly is fond of his pretty horse,” Tom said in an odd singsong. “I'll bet he's even more fond of his pretty whore. What say we have a little fun, lads, as we go?”

The light of two lamps appeared like the eyes of a dragon at the top of the hill. The rumble differentiated into the sound of wheels and horses trotting fast. The metallic clanging grew louder, like the clash of a medieval battle.