Page 51 of Outrageous

“Here, take the bag.” He jerked his chin toward the bag that contained his clothing. “And if you allow me to reach into my coat, I can give you my purse.”

Their captor was red-faced and glaring at Eva, the bodice of his rather revealing gown rising and falling quickly. “You’d better keep him quiet,” he warned as he gathered up his sodden gown with one hand and stumbled through the mud toward them.

Eva’s jaw began to move and Godric tightened his hand slightly, not surprised when she bit his finger.

Godric yanked his hand away. “Goddammit, that hurt,” he muttered through clenched jaws.

“Keep your hand off my mouth,” she growled, sounding remarkably like a badger.

“Then keep it shut.”

“I will.”

Godric would believe that when it happened. He casually lowered both his hands to his sides.

“Stay still,” the boy’s voice quavered as he came close enough for Godric to see that he was not a boy, but probably Eva’s age. He was small, only a few inches taller than Eva and almost as slender. Godric could tell by the way he was shaking that he was more than a little nervous. One long, elegant finger was poised on the ancient firing mechanism—or at least Godric assumed it was the firing mechanism. What he knew about arquebusses—arquebussi?—could fit in a thimble, with room to spare.

The boy snatched the bag and staggered back. And then realized he hadn’t gotten the money yet. His jaw worked so that Godric could see the tendons moving below his pale skin. “You needn’t give me all your money, just—just half.”

Godric’s eyebrow shot up at that, but he hardly wanted to argue. Once the boy had taken half the money—a decent sum since Bertie had advanced him a pony at Doncaster—he took a wobbly step back, his expression suddenly uncertain.

“I’m—I’m sorry about—”

Eva snorted.

The boy’s eyes swiveled from Godric to Eva, and Godric instinctively took a step toward her, preparing himself to thrust his body between her and the gun, if necessary.

Their robber’s eyes widened comically. “Why, you’re a girl!”

She opened her mouth.

“Eva.”

She cut Godric a sharp look and then, to his eternal surprise, shut her mouth with a snap.

He turned back to their robber. “You’ve got what you want. Why don’t you be on your way.” It wasn’t a question.

The boy stiffened at his tone, his face flushing at whatever he saw in Godric’s eyes. He lowered the gun slowly, careful to keep it from touching the mud, and then shook his head, lifting the bag at the same time. “I-I can’t do this,” he said, almost to himself. “Here.” He shook the bag. “Take it back.” His jaw trembled. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Godric took the bag, embarrassed for the boy, who he was sure was crying. If Eva noticed, she would—

“Are you blubbering?” she demanded in open disbelief.

The boy’s mouth tightened and he began to raise the gun.

Fortunately, the sound of horses distracted all three of them and they turned toward the bend in the road where the postilions had ridden off a scant quarter of an hour earlier, although Godric had to admit it felt like a thousand years.

A team of horses rounded the corner at a trot and Godric frowned when he saw they weren’t connected to a carriage.

“What in the—”

“Good afternoon, lady and gents,” a lazy voice drawled behind him. “Nobody make any sudden movements. You’ll want to lower that firearm young, er, lady.”

* * *

It was the most exciting day of Eva’s entire life. A near-death carriage wreck and being robbed twice—and there was still half the day remaining.

Their first robber reluctantly handed his blunderbuss or whatever it was to the gaudily dressed highwayman who’d come up behind them. A handful of men spread out around them and Eva realized these were not of the same caliber as the first robber: these were hard, desperate-looking criminals.