“Here, take this,” Erskine’s voice came from in front of her in the saddle as he shrugged off his coat.
“Will you not need it?” She took it slowly, wary that she now had a very good view of his broad shoulders in just the brown waistcoat and white shirt.
“As I said before, I daenae feel the chill as much as ye do.”
“You do like to boast that the Scottish are hardier than me and the other London folk!” She pulled on the coat around her shoulders. It smelled strongly of him. As their horse was trailing at the back of their group, she felt at liberty to completely wrap herself in the material, enjoying it for a moment.
It is probably the closest I will ever get to this man!
“It is easy to tease ye for it,” Erskine chuckled. “Besides, it is true.”
“I will remind you of that when you grow icicles in your hair,” her jest made him laugh again and look over his shoulder at her. She released her hold on the jacket slightly, not wishing to be caught.
“Ye are still the one shiverin’,” he pointed out smiling. Laura only rolled her eyes in reply as he turned back. Over the previous days of their journey, he had not bothered with such a close shave, the result was more dappled stubble growing across his chin, and it was distracting Laura an awful lot. She thought it suited his square jaw and more than once did she find herself imagining what it could be like to drop kisses along that jaw…
She rearranged in the saddle, trying to stop her thoughts from wandering off, but she kicked one of the bags that had been tied to the saddle, knocking it free and down to the ground.
“Wait, we have lost a bag,” she prodded Erskine in the back, calling him to a stop.
“Aye, down ye get, I’ll tell the others to stop.”
She jumped down before he rode the horse forward a few yards, shouting after the others to stop.
“Hurry up, ye two! I daenae wish to be in this area for very long,” Dearg called back.
Laura picked up the bag from the road and turned back, about to head toward the horse and re-attach it, but a sudden click near her ear brought her to a sharp stop.
“Do not move any further, lad,” a cold voice muttered at her side. She turned her head back as something clicked again.
Beside her, half-hidden by the branches of the larch trees, was a highwayman with a musket in his hand, and it was aimed at Laura’s head.
Chapter Eight
Laura froze, abiding by the highwayman’s instruction.
“Billie, what is it?” Erskine’s voice made Laura’s eyes flick to the side, just as the highwayman stepped forward, out to the path, and into Erskine’s view.
“Best stay where you are on your horse, Scot,” the highwayman called loudly as he stepped nearer to Laura. “One more step, and I shoot,” he said, just as Erskine came to a stop on his horse a few yards away.
Laura’s eyes darted between Erskine and the highwayman. She had never known such fear like it. Even when she was running from the thieves in London, certain death was not as close then as it was now. If she moved but an inch, the highwayman would undoubtedly pull the trigger of the flintlock pistol. Her breath was loud in her ears as she looked back to Erskine.
“What do ye want?” Erskine snapped. Far behind him, the rest of their entourage had turned to look at the commotion.
“You four back there! Do not come any closer!” The highwayman warned and stepped toward Laura. He pressed the barrel of the pistol against her forehead, and she winced at the press of the cold metal. The four of them fell still.
“I said, what do ye want?” Erskine said again, his voice deathly cold.
“Well, we’ll start with this,” the first highwayman took the bag from Laura’s hand and peered inside. It was only food. He hooked it onto his belt and lifted his gaze back to Laura. “Now, your money.”
Laura hesitated. It was the only money she had in the world, and she did not want to give a penny of it to the man before her.
“Now,” the man warned, pressing the pistol harder against her head.
“Ye want money? Take mine,” Erskine’s voice made the two of them look his way sharply. He had a leather drawstring pouch in his hand. Laura couldn’t help but analyze his square jaw and the handsome features that were now so stern. She wondered why the highwayman before her was not shaking in his leather boots.
The highwayman looked surprised by the offer, his greying eyebrows raising up on his forehead as he looked between the two of them.
“It is a fair exchange,” Erskine continued. “Besides, I’d wager a good sum I have more here than the lad does,” he shook the pouch to emphasize his words.
