“Are you always so relentless?” She cocked her head.
“Pardon?”
“The charming grin? The dashing attire?” She motioned her lovely hand up and down, indicating his tightly-cut brown coat over a green silk waistcoat and linen trousers. “The endless flirtation?”
Ethan leaned into The Swooner and deepened his brogue. “I have yet tae receive any complaints, lass.”
She tapped her lips with one long finger. “I struggle to decide if I should commend your dedication or feel appalled on behalf of womankind.”
“I would be delighted tae receive any praise ye should like to give me, the more personal the better,mo leannan.”
“You are trulyincorreggibile.Non so cosa da—”
CRAAACK!!!
The sound of a gunshot split the air.
Shouting in rapid-fire Italian immediately followed.
The maid woke with a scream.
The businessman beside Ethan jerked upright.
The coach lurched to a stop, horses whinnying, tackle jangling. Ethan and his fellow travelers swayed with the motion.
Another shot cracked through the mayhem.
“Banditi,” the businessman hissed.
Ethan pulled wide the satchel at his feet and tore out his Belgian pinfire revolver.
He met thebellissimalady’s wide gaze, her eyes dropping to the gun. Twisting, he hastily tucked the weapon into the waistband at the small of his back, covering it with his coattails. The press of the revolver against his spine promised some hope of protection from whoever was outside.
The carriage door opposite flew open.
A masked highwayman aimed an old single-shot pistol into the interior of the carriage. Ethan quickly counted five more armed bandits beyond the first man’s wiry frame—three standing and two on horseback with rifles trained on the coachman and postilion. Pine trees and granite peaks towered behind them.
Ethan cataloged the men’s positions and weaponry. They might be highwaymen, but their guns were at least thirty years out of date. None of their weapons would fire more than one shot.
That evened the odds a smidgen.
The highwayman at the door smiled, his eyes flashing behind the black slits of his mask.
The dreamlike quality of the situation washed over Ethan, as if he had abruptly become an actor in a mawkish melodrama.
First, traveling through breathtaking mountain scenery.
Second, flirting and conversing with the most fascinating lady he had ever met.
And third, being accosted and held at gunpoint by armed, masked highwaymen.
The poem I write about this will be epic, he thought.
One of the bandits shouted at the coachman and fired another warning shot, quickly reloading his pistol. The weapon might be outdated, but the highwayman packed the powder and shot blindingly fast.
If I survive, Ethan amended.
Please let me survive.He glanced at his lady—the pinch of her mouth, the tense muscles of her cheeks.And, perhaps, save the damsel as well.
