Ethan was, after all, a devout optimist.
If he could extricate them, perhaps they could continue their conversation this evening. Over a bottle of red wine. Alone.
The highwayman at the carriage door barked orders in sharp Italian, motioning with his pistol for the passengers to descend.
The businessman exited first, but the maid shrank back, blubbering in fear and clutching her mistress’s arm. Ethan intervened, placing his body between the highwaymen and the ladies.
Clambering out of the coach, he turned and extended a hand to the maid. The terrified girl stumbled down the steps only to collapse against the rear wheel of the carriage, sobbing hysterically.
Ethan’s lady, however, was made of sterner stuff. She remained stoic-faced as he reached for her. The weight of her fine-boned hand burned his palm.
“Stay behind me,” he whispered as her feet hit the ground.
She met his gaze with her own tremulous one and nodded, her gray eyes wide, before turning to comfort her maid.
Such abrawlass, his lady.
Ethan pivoted to face the robbers, still keeping his body between the highwaymen and the women, shoulders held high, the revolver a comforting weight against the small of his back.
Noting his chivalry with a sneer, the lead bandit rattled something in quick Italian that Ethan did not understand.
Ethan lifted his chin in reply anyway.
He felt the gentle press of a hand between his shoulder blades.
“You will get yourself hurt with such bravery, Poet.” His lady’s low voice reverberated from behind. “Do not be a fool.”
“I won’t be rash,” Ethan murmured, keeping his gaze trained on the highwaymen. “But I will protect your bonnie self.”
Her soft hand skimmed down his spine, coming to rest at his waistband, the touch igniting goose-flesh.
Bloody hell.
The threat of the highwaymen combined with the delicious touch of the lady’s hand set Ethan’s heart to a mad gallop.
Had he ever felt so piercingly alive?
Every sense was heightened. The sharp definition of white clouds against the summer-blue sky. The panicked nickering of horses. The feel of the lady’s body pressing closer behind him.
Two highwaymen on foot pulled luggage off the back of the coach, rifling through trunks. The businessman protested, only to fall silent when the lead bandit menacingly cocked his pistol.
Would the highwaymen be content with robbing them only? Ethan wondered. Or would his lovely lady be a physical target, as well?
Ethan had meant what he said—he would protect her.
The highwaymen with the luggage shouted in triumph, hefting two bags that clanked with coin from the businessman’s trunks. The man wrung his hands in distress.
The lady’s palm moved slightly at Ethan’s waist, as if pleading for protection.
Aye, lass. I’ll protect ye,he thought.
The bandits remained focused on the trunks, gathering to examine the goods.
It was now or never.
“When I move,” Ethan said softly, “I want yourself and your maid tae crouch down. Get as low as ye can.”
The lady hummed in agreement and murmured, “Be ready,” in quick Italian to her maid.
