When they made the first hairpin turn she was glad they were on horseback. The hillside fell away so steeply it made her stomach flip if she looked over the edge. What if a driver lost control of their carriage coming down?
She focused her attention on Zach and Nick instead, how similar they were in the way they sat their horse. Jonesy had never seemed truly at ease in the saddle. Nick was a little awkward their first day on land, but since then it seemed like memories of a well-honed but long-unused skill had resurfaced. He had the same upright posture, head and hips in alignment, and relaxed hands as Zach. Both directed their horses without fuss or effort, whereas she wasn’t sure sometimes if her mount was following her instruction or just tagging along with the other horses.
The turn completed and riding on a straight section of road again, she felt her equilibrium return, and tried to draw Zach out.
Zach ignored her attempts to learn about him or his journey to Portugal. “You were desperate enough to throw your lot in with this rapscallion, eh?”
“I’m right here,” Nick gritted out, one horse length ahead of them. The road clear of traffic for a while, Zach caught up and rode beside Harriet.
Harriet stifled a chuckle. “It seemed my only option. And I was desperate.” Zach coaxed and prodded and was so charming about it, she ended up telling him about her intended, Sir Percival, and needing her share of the treasure for her dowry, to secure the future for her brother Gabriel and to pay the quarterly mortgage that was coming due in a fortnight.
“This Percival fellow,” Zach said thoughtfully, “what color are his eyes?”
The eyes that came to mind first were azure blue with indigo rings around the irises. But those were Nick’s eyes. She tried to picture Percy the last time she’d seen him, at an assembly in the village. Looking so fine in his bottle green coat and tan breeches, shiny Hessian boots, and impeccably tied cravat. She tried to look higher, to recall his face, his eyes. His smile. Did he have a chipped tooth like Nick? He was everything that Madame Zavrina would consider desirable in a suitor. He had never taken any liberties with Harriet. Always wore gloves and used the lightest of touches when they held hands to dance. Was always properly attired, comported himself with dignity as befitting his station as a landowner in their tiny village society.
He was deadly dull compared to Nick.
But then, who wouldn’t be?
“Um, brown. No, green.” Harriet craned her neck to look at the winery now visible high on the hill in the distance, trying to dredge up a clear mental image of the face of the man she intended to marry, would see on the pillow beside her in bed as she had Nick’s last night. “No, they’re hazel.” She nodded firmly, trying to convince herself. “Yes, they’re definitely hazel.”
“And what color are his?” Zach pointed at Nick.
“Same blue as yours, you rogue,” she said with a laugh.
They must have slowed down while they chatted. Nick had ridden farther ahead of them and was out of sight as the road made another sharp turn.
They turned the corner and came to a shocked halt. Nick lay face down beside the road, blood running down his forehead. A few feet away from where Nick’s horse was cropping the sparse grass growing beneath enormous trees, two men were bound and gagged, tied to a tree that had orange bark, just off the road in a shady copse at the base of the hillside.
“Nick!” Harriet jumped down and ran to him even as she heard Zach shout, “Wait!”
“That will do,” came a stern voice from the trees.
Chapter 17
The speaker stepped out into the sunlight, his features obscured by a black kerchief covering his face below his eyes. A black wool cap worn low on his forehead hid his hair, and he wore a shapeless, oversized oilskin coat. But the bulk of his large form was unmistakable, and it wasn’t from fat.
The pistol he pointed at Nick, however, was quite clear. And steady. He pointed at Zach with his free hand. “You. Dismount.” He then pointed at Harriet, who was kneeling beside Nick’s still form. “You. Don’t move.”
Zach dismounted and walked closer to Nick, holding his hands up beside his ears. He looked no more concerned than if someone had just revealed themselves to have a winning hand of cards. “If you want my purse, you have only to ask.”
“Shut up,” the highwayman growled. From the depths of a coat pocket, he withdrew a small coil of rope and tossed it to Harriet. “You. Tie his hands together behind his back.” He gestured at Zach.
Harriet gave another glance at Nick to confirm he was still breathing, then moved to do as asked. She tied the rope around Zach’s wrists using a knot Jack and Winston had taught her, proud her hands barely shook, then looked expectantly at the stranger.
He pointed for Zach to sit with his back to the tree’s thick orange trunk, near the other two men. He tossed another piece of rope at Harriet. “Now tie his ankles together.”
Harriet did as ordered, again using the knot Nick’s crew had taught her.
The stranger inspected her work, then grunted in approval. He tucked his pistol away and made quick work of tying Harriet’s hands and ankles, though he didn’t tie her to the tree. Then he dragged Nick away from the road and into the shadows of the copse, and tied his hands and ankles.
“I say,” Zach said slowly. “Shouldn’t you be bringing me another brandy, Marlow?”
She heard a startled, muffled oath from the well-dressed man tied to the tree beside Zach.
Harriet had been so focused on Nick and doing as the stranger asked that she had barely glanced at the men sitting at the base of the tree. Now she recognized Captain Ruford. The well-dressed gent in the middle must be Hornsby. She hadn’t realized it was him without the dirt dusting his face and clothes, and with the gag distorting part of his face.
Marlow yanked the kerchief from his face, revealing coarse features, including a nose that had been broken more than once. “I won’t be bringing you, or anyone else, a brandy ever again. Not after I get my hands on the treasure.” He patted his waistcoat pocket, and Harriet heard the crinkle of paper. He patted another pocket, and she heard the jingle of keys.
