Esme wrapped her arms around the man’s torso and did as he bade. He turned the horse so abruptly she was certain they’d all fall to the ground, but the steed kept his footing. They cut into a dense patch of trees. Branches and leaves swatted at her bare legs as they made their way deeper into the forest.
He slowed the horse to a trot, then stopped him altogether. “Shhh,” he told her.
She could see only his face as they waited in the trees for their pursuers to catch up, and his expression told her nothing. The moments stretched by, and Esme’s own labored breathing and pounding heart roared in her ears so loudly she was almost certain their hiding place would be discovered. The man’s hands tightened on the reins. Those same hands that had caressed her body only moments before. Her cheeks flamed as an unfamiliar rush of heat spread through her.
The hooves got closer and closer, slamming against the dirt road. The two horsemen slowed to a trot.
“I don’t see ’em,” Waters said.
Esme couldn’t see the road, but she could gauge how close the men were by the dark expression on her rescuer’s face. A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he made no movement. She wasn’t even certain he blinked.
“We’ve lost ’em,” Waters cried.
Thatcher let out a string of curses that had Esme’s ears burning. “We’ll catch him. We know all his hiding places.”
Then the men turned and rode back in the direction from which they’d come.
Esme released a breath and sagged against her rescuer. “That was close.”
They waited a handful of minutes longer before continuing on their way to the carriage house.
Nearly an hour later, Esme pulled the overcoat tighter around her. She didn’t think she’d ever been so cold or filthy. But the warmth of her savior’s coat was certainly helping. Not to mention the enclosed carriage as opposed to the frigid air she’d been exposed to on the horse ride. He’d hired a driver and currently sat opposite her inside the rig.
So much had happened in the last day. The kidnapping and subsequent rescue by this handsome stranger. And Pandora’s box had been found. She wished it had been under different circumstances so she could have fully enjoyed it. And she wished her father were still alive to share the discovery with; he would have enjoyed the adventure of it. Well, with the exception of his daughter being abducted.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“London.”
She sighed heavily. He wasn’t a man of many words.
And he seemed a bit of a contradiction. While he dressed and moved as a gentleman would, he did not keep gentlemanly company, as he’d known her captors. Granted, it seemed as if they had an antagonistic relationship.
With no thought to the propriety of the matter, she openly examined him. He was a handsome man, that she could not deny. With his dark eyes and equally dark eyebrows slashing shrewdly above, he looked rather intelligent. His full lips, though, gave him a sensual look. Yes, this stranger who had saved her was particularly dashing.
Perhaps this was how he earned his living. Tracking down thieves and stealing from them whatever artifact they’d managed to find. No doubt he then donated it to a museum or someplace else secure. She’d heard of such men, employed by museums. She smiled. He was an honorable man, and she was safe.
“Who were those men?” she asked.
“First tell me your name,” he said flatly.
Honorable, albeit rude. “Esme Worthington,” she said.
“And to whom do you belong?”
“I beg your pardon; I don’t belong to anyone.”
He took a silent breath and closed his eyes. “Who are your parents?”
“My parents are deceased.” Crossing her arms across her chest, she nodded once. “I am my own woman.”
His eyes narrowed. “You live in London?” He stretched his long legs out in front of him, coming close to brushing her own in the process. “Alone?”
She waved a hand in front of her. “Not completely alone. I live with my aunt, and we keep a small household staff.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “How is it that you know so much about Pandora’s box?”
“I am a scholar. What I know I’ve learned from much study and research.” She thought she detected a slight smile before he turned to look out the darkened window. Many people—many men—held women such as herself in disdain. However, she did not care if he thought her refusal to suppress her intelligence made her unwomanly.
