“Was that lightning?” a woman asked.
The coach slowed, the driver wrenching on the reins and the coach rocking side to side violently. The top opened and the groom peaked in.
“There's a man lying in the road,” he informed the passengers.
Wesley cursed under his breath. The groom dismounted and passed the window, pulling the pistol from his waist.
Willa was already breathing hard.
“I’m sure it's nothing. A drunkard who was trying to make it home,” Wesley whispered in her ear. He wrapped his arm around her, squeezing her tight. He could hear the coachman shifting in his seat. The horses neighed and stamped their feet. Wesley couldn't see the groom anymore.
The door opened, and there the groom stood, a pistol pressed to his temple.
“My lord, your presence is requested,” the groom said and then he was shoved aside.
“Lord Knightly, we meet at last.”
Willa gasped. “It's him.”
“Him who?” Wesley asked, never taking his stare from the man.
“The highwayman who dragged me from the coach. Gerard.”
“Get out of the coach,” the highwayman spat.
The other patrons hunkered together, not one of them willing to risk their necks for strangers.
“Your name, sir?” Wesley asked.
“You can call me Death.”
“Well, Death,” Wesley angled himself to block Willa. “What is the meaning of this?”
“You killed my whole crew. I've had to listen to the stories of your bravery up and down this road, searching for you.Lord Knightly did this. Knightly did that. Stopped a vicious band of thieves, he did.” The highwayman had everyone's attention now.
“Next he rescued a poor maiden from drowning, and then he freed a work house full of children from their evil guardian. You've been a busy man, but I know none of it is true. Just look at you, bandaged like a mummy. It took me a bit of time to recover too.” He opened his coat and revealed his bandaged side. Old blood seeped through tattered bindings.
“That looks infected,” Willa said.
“Aye,” the highwayman agreed, “but I won’t die until I've had me revenge on you”—he aimed the pistol at Willa—“and you.”
“Get out of the coach,” he barked again.
“Just me,” Wesley said. “Leave her alone.”
“I don't take orders from you, welp. Out of the bloody coach or I put a ball in your head right in front ofLadyKnightly,”he sneered. “And all these fine folks.”
Wesley clenched his teeth as he filled the entry to the carriage, blocking the highwayman's ability to shoot anyone but him. He stepped down and closed the door.
“I won't let you hurt her.”
“After you're dead, it don’t matter what you want.”
“I'll take you with me,” Wesley returned swiftly, surveying the surroundings. He appeared to be acting alone. The groom stood back, but he wasn’t cowering.
The coachman sat on the top, facing forward, his hands trembling on the reins.
“Let them leave and you can do what you want with me. Torture me, drag me behind a horse, but the lady goes and so do the other patrons.”
