He wasn’t her friend. As soon as she thought she was getting comfortable with him, he reminded her of it.
“How did you do it?” she asked after another quiet moment. “How did you win my father’s, and it seems, Old John’s trust so quickly.”
“I don’t know. I was honest and they believed me.”
That’s it? There had to be more. Her father was a judge. It was his duty to be able to read people. But Old John was even harder to win. The tall, gray-haired butler trusted no one. To win him, one must first gain his trust. He could read just about anyone.
“Honest about what?” she asked.
“Everything I can remember,” he said in a low voice.
Did she want to know? Did she want him to share his life with her? They might be spending more time together if he was going to continue following her around. It could be dangerous for him to grow fond of her. He wouldn’t want to leave. But he was a law keeper and she broke the law. Preston and his friends robbed carriages on the roads and, twice, they’d killed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to continue on as his friend. Their adventures and escapades picking the pockets of the rich and feeding the poor had gone dark. She was a part of it. She was in on it. Her life was going in a spiral. She felt as if she couldn’t control it, just as she couldn’t control her tongue.
“And what do you remember?”
“Nothing good.”
Chapter Six
Michael wasn’t surewhat to tell her. He didn’t think he wanted to tell her anything. Oh, by the way, I traveled back in time yesterday morning. I’m from the future. There aren’t many women there like you.
Sure.
She’d laugh all the way back to her manor house.
“So you told my father and Old John that nothing good happened to you and they believed you—and my father took you under his wing. Just for that? Do you expect me to believe that? You’ve had a hard life. Many people do. You are not special. Your explanation about my father makes no sense. He would not—”
“There was more but I’d rather not go into it again.
“Oh, of course,” she retreated.
He stared at her while she walked. “Why do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Rob people.”
She shrugged a delicate shoulder. “Why does anyone do it? For the thrill.”
He scowled. That was a dangerous reason. Someone who did it for the thrill would likely continue to do it.
“Mmm,” he grunted more than said.
“What does that mean?” She looked up, curious and a little insulted.
“Nothing.” He looked away as if she no longer interested him.
“You speak strangely. I have never heard anyone from York speak like you.”
He kept his expression impassive. He wasn’t planning on telling her anything else about his past. She was cynical and critical. Unlike her father, she would never believe him. She would think he was a nut. On the other hand, what did he care what she thought?
“Did you ever think of putting your mind to work on something good? Like law enforcement?”
She laughed. “I’m a woman in case you have not noticed.”
He had, he thought, groaning inwardly.
“Women,” she sighed, letting her laughter fade, “do not do what you are doing.”
