Read Taffeta & Hotspur Online

Authors: Claudy Conn

Tags: #sexy, #claudy conn, #myriah fire, #oh cherry ripe, #rogues rakes jewels, #regencyhistorical

Taffeta & Hotspur (5 page)

BOOK: Taffeta & Hotspur
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Nigel rapped Seth’s shoulder as his
nephew had said something inappropriate to Taffy.

Seth coughed and hurriedly said, “I
mean … er … well…”


Yes, yes, I know, married
men have lovers on the side,” said Taff shaking her head. “I
probably know more about these things than you do Seth. We girls
talk you know.”


Sauce box!” Her brother
chuckled, apparently recovered from his stubbed toe, and led them
to their horses which they quietly mounted and walked slowly down a
hidden wooded trail.

The coach came into view, and for a
short space, they took a parallel path, until the moment they
needed to follow on the dirt road.

They were ready. They were completely
in line for what they were about to do, but something jarred in
Taffy’s brain. Something wasn’t right.

She stared at the sleek lines of the
coach and doubts began to shake her resolve. She tried conjuring up
her ability to sense, to ‘see’ the future, but it was as though
something blocked her from doing so.

Something was interfering with her
ability to look into the future. Something like … the rakehell
Hotspur. For when she tried to see the future, it was his face she
saw. Absurd.


Doesn’t look like the
Barkins’ coach…” she whispered.


It is probably new, bought
out of the hides of his laborers,” said Nigel angrily as he led his
nephew and niece forward.


I have a bad feeling…”
Taffy told them as she shook her head. “I don’t like this… I just
don’t think…” Her words stopped

Nigel watched her for a moment and
then shrugged as he and Seth moved forward armed and
ready.

Taffy reached out and called, “Stop…”
But it was too late. They were already caught up in the moment,
riding hard, guns drawn and raised.

Nigel released a shot in the air, he
and Seth took a stand in front of the coach, and as Taffy
approached, Nigel saw she had closed her eyes.

They shouted out in the accents they
had perfected, “Out wit ye! Come on, flash covey … out!”

 

~*~

 

The passenger within the elegant coach
sat back leisurely. He was on his way to the Red Hart in Nottingham
where he had been told there was sure to be a card game, and a
fancy piece or two that could please. He wasn’t sure what he
wanted, but he was restless, and this sounded better than a sedate
evening by the fire.

Suddenly he felt the carriage lurch to
a halt. He caught himself from falling over, and with a soft curse,
began to rise until he heard the shots echo breaking in on the
quiet of the night.

Imperceptibly, automatically, his hand
found his hidden small, neat, and deadly hand pistol he always kept
within his carriage. He prepared this even as he reached for his
dagger, long and deadly and in a sheath within his cape. He always
traveled prepared. He smiled to himself and waited.

Ah, he thought as he heard the
blackguard’s command. He shook his head, for the high toby sounded
young. Nevertheless, he needed to be dealt with. He sat back
against his squabs and disobeyed the command to get out of his
carriage.

He sat silently, cunningly waiting for
the right opportunity. He heard a lad, a very young lad, with a
high voice growl once again and waited still longer. He knew this
game well and knew just how to best his opponent. He hung back and
was well able to see their approach through the window.


Lookee, lads … Barkins is
afraid to show his phiz…” crowed the young toby as he moved to pull
open the carriage door from his seat on his horse.

Within the carriage, the passenger
thought this crew seemed hot-tempered and careless from the way
they approached their target and the sound the high toby made was
harsh, but touched with youth.

The occupant of the carriage never
allowed the toby to finish opening the door as he shoved it hard
and wide, catching the highwayman’s horse head-on, sending the poor
animal up into a high rear.

Tarrant was quick as he jumped into
place and roughly, harshly, tore the reins away from the toby
struggling to keep his seat. As Tarrant struggled with the
highwayman, he thought the lad must be younger than he even first
realized for the boy had no strength at all.

Tarrant studied the lad’s horse,
nothing special. In fact, it looked to be an older cold blooded
gelding not meant for distance or speed. Odd that.

He moved into action quickly as he
grabbed the toby’s gun, getting the lad’s glove as well. It allowed
him a quick touch of fingers that couldn’t possibly belong to a
man. They were small and delicate. He dropped the gun to the ground
and kicked it away, before he held the toby’s horse near and
pointed his gun at his captive’s hooded head.

Tarrant was quick and deadly; he had
done this before and with great success. He had been taken
unprepared only once, and after that, never again. That was his
standard. He allowed himself only one learning mistake.

He held the horse’s reins in hand,
putting his hostage and the horse between him and the toby’s
cohorts. All this was like one fluid movement, horse reins, and
then onto his captive’s arm…

The toby struggled furiously, but he
had the boy down and out of the saddle and onto the ground in front
of him as he remarked in his ear, “Too young, too small, and too
stupid to take on the life of a toby, lad.”

He saw the toby look at his
accomplices and frowned. He seemed more worried about them than he
did about himself. They had no way of getting to him. He kept the
toby’s horse between them, his gun leveled with a viable
threat.

And then he made his decision and
aimed his gun not at them but at the lad’s head, and just as he
suspected, the lad put out a small hand, and worriedly cautioned,
“No … no … then covey … go on … oi’ll do oi will…”


Whot? And leave ye? Are ye
daft?” one of the two said and then to Tarrant, “Leave the lad be,
flash … no ‘arm done.”

So these three were perhaps family, or
very good friends? Brothers perhaps? Tarrant thought as he listened
to this exchange.


Get out of ‘ere … m’blokes,
save yerselves … go…”

Instead, they shouted threats at
Tarrant, and then one toby tried something else, something close to
pleading. In a Yorkshire dialect he said, “I disremember when I’ve
made sech a muddle of me rig … ye ain’t the right party—no ye
ain’t. So if ye’ll let me young brother go, we’ll be on our way,
and treble ye no more.”

Tarrant’s thoughts regarding the
punishment of highwaymen was harsh. They were a dangerous lot that
often took more than money and jewels…

But as he held the lad pressed up
against his body, something disturbed him about this particular
high toby. For one thing, the shape of the young toby’s bottom
against his thighs felt … bloody hell!

Just a moment now … this wasn’t right,
there was hint of perfume about the lad—rose water … and hell and
fire, he was getting a damn hard-on.

He twisted the lad around, and both
her hood and scarf went askew. Even in the dark and the fog, she
was too close for him not to know. He stared into her eyes with
complete shock, and for the first time in a long time, he was left
totally speechless and totally entertained.

Oh famous, he thought, if I had been
drinking heavily, I would have an excuse for this dream. It must be
a dream because this can’t be possible and yet, here she is, the
Lady Taffeta—playing at highwayman!

She made a frantic attempt to pull
free, but he yanked her hard. The next thing he knew, he had her
spun around where she landed, wrapped nicely, in his arms. Her
cloak parted, displaying the blousy white shirt she wore, and her
full firm breasts pressed into his chest as he held her close. His
other arm went around her trim waist, and he was uncertain just how
to proceed from there. I needed to think, for he was so very
stunned. This was absurd … but… Damnation and brimstone! What was
he going to do? Here was Lady Taffeta in his arms, which meant the
two riding with her were the young Duke of Grantham and his uncle,
Lord Nigel.

He remembered her small handgun in the
dirt and kicked it farther away and told the two men on horseback
jabbering threats at him to stuff it. He was going to allow the
lads to save face, but he meant to have a little fun with the lady.
She knew that he knew; he had seen it in her eyes.

He needed time, and so he maintained a
gun pointed at her, and told the boys, “This lad is dead if either
of you make one move.” His tone was ominous, for if this was a
prank, they needed a lesson to wake them up to reality.

Tarrant could see one lad was nearly
foaming at the mouth with fear, and nearly felt a moment’s pity for
the lad whose fear, he could see was for the girl in his grip. The
lad said, “Now guv, ye won’t want to be ‘urting the lad … it ain’t
‘is fault, ye know, so let ‘im go. Do, and we’ll be calling it a
night, even-steven … what ye think of that?”

He turned Taffy once more and held her
rump against his cock, and for one moment, closed his eyes as
sensations traveled through him. He managed to set desire aside but
continued to hold her tightly as he said on a low note, “Right
then, little toby, we shall deal … you and I, because it amuses me
to do so.” He looked at the lad he assumed was her brother under
the knitted dark scarf and hood. “I tell you what, my friend. I’d
be willing to release you two—but not this one. I should like to
keep this lad for a bit longer.”

One toby spluttered to the other, “No
… no…”

And then he said, “Oi couldn’t do
without m’brother… Oi would be beholden to ye sir, if ye would let
‘im go…”


What could you do for me in
return? Naught, I think…” Tarrant meant to teach them all a vital
lesson.

He had seen it in her eyes; she knew
he knew who she was, and she then surprised him by saying softly,
and only for his ears, “Let them go, and me as well … Tarrant. You
may take my promise that I shall repay the debt when you call it
in.”

He grinned wickedly. “Fair enough,” he
said and then, to banish any doubt of her future fate in this
regard, he allowed his hand to slide to her breast under her cloak
and cupped it, lingered there a moment. In a low husky voice, he
said, “I just might hold you to it.”


Ass,” she hissed quietly,
pulling the hood lower over her forehead. He supposed this was for
her brother’s sake. She wouldn’t want him to know about the ‘deal’
she had made to save them from this night’s work.

She moved away from him, and he said
lightly, “Go then … no harm and fare thee well.”

He then set Taffy’s quiet horse in
place for her to mount, moved in close to her, and whispered, “I
shall see you in London … make no mistake.”


I am afraid so,” she
answered with a cold note and swung herself into her
saddle.

In response to this, Tarrant laughed,
greatly amused.

What the driver of Tarrant’s coach
thought of all these proceedings, he immediately voiced as he
watched the three highwaymen ride off into the darkness, “Ye jest
going to let ‘em ride off then…?”

Tarrant only laughed again. “Aye, they
aren’t any good at this profession, and I suspect they mean to give
it up,” Tarrant said and then laughed again.


Will ye still be wanting me
to take ye to the tavern, m’lord?” the driver asked with a
frown.


No, Dods, I think I have
had enough entertainment for one evening. Let’s return to my aunt’s
and make an early day of it back to London tomorrow.”

As his coach lumbered forward, the
rakehell Hotspur put his head back against the leather squabs and
thought of Taffeta. She was a rogue, much like himself, and he
fancied she knew the rules well enough, otherwise would she have
promised herself away so freely? Why were they marauding people in
the night? Why act the part of high toby? Why did her brother and
uncle allow it? They were wealthy—nearly as wealthy as he. It
troubled him, and the fact that it troubled him was a source of
irritation.

 

~*~

 

The Rogues Three rode until they were
out of sight, and then, all of them breathless, pulled their horses
up and allowed the steeds to slowly walk into the thick of the
woods. They sat their horses stiffly, each unable to speak after
their terrifying experience.

Finally, Nigel broke the silence and
exclaimed, “I can’t believe he let us go. What did you say to him,
Taff?” He then turned to his nephew. “Seth, your accent was
absolutely prime. Well done.”


I am sorry … this is my
fault,” said Taffy, changing the subject away from his question. “I
had a ‘bad feeling’ when the coach approached and should have
stopped us, but I didn’t get enough of a warning in time and
absolutely no vision at all…”


Never mind that; we
narrowly escaped, that’s what—and that Hotspur … how he came out
ready to take all three of us on,” said Seth and Taffy caught the
note of admiration in his tone.

BOOK: Taffeta & Hotspur
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