The man had a handkerchief to his face, but it didn’t block the gravel in his voice. With Arthur’s lantern still aglow, he could identify him. This time, being a witness against evil might again cost the life he’d built. “She isn’t here. Go on.”
“I decide when it’s time to leave.” The thief hoisted his gun and rummaged in the gig, but he’d find nothing of value—just Arthur’s clothes and the script he needed to memorize. “I saw a woman, and I smell lilac. You didn’t leave her at the inn. Where is she? She looked well-to-do. Scarves or lace can fetch a penny or more.”
Arthur balled his fist behind his back, calculating when to strike to subdue the fool before Ester returned. “You need to leave my wife out of this. Go on—”
Ester stood at the edge of the brush.
He wanted to yell for her to leave, but that would alert the fiend, giving him more leverage. “Look, you have everything. Go on your way.”
“Come out, little woman. I’ve your husband.” The bandit dumped Arthur’s bag on the ground. “So where is the little woman?” He cocked the hammer again and put it against Arthur’s temple. “She has to have a ring or a little jewelry. Here, little sweetheart. Come nigh and save your husband.”
“Don’t hurt him, sir.” Ester’s voice sounded full of tears.
The fiend slugged Arthur with the gun and knocked him to the ground. His vision was blurred, but he saw Miss Croome waving her arms like she was distraught. “Stay back. Let this man be on his way before you come close.”
The rising sun shined upon her. She looked frail, helpless, and Arthur’s gut twisted. “Run, Ester.”
The bandit kicked at him before turning to her. “A maid? No, a prostitute. There’s no wife. Oh, no wonder your driving was crazed. You’ve ditched the wife for a hot little piece. I hear her kind gets hot and bothered quite easily.”
“You have all that was in my pockets.” He tried to rise, but the man’s boot pinned his leg. “Go now. We won’t follow.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t. Your hands are far too full.” The bellicose laughter grew worse. “Come on over, little woman, and let me take a look at you.”
She threw her head back, and in a voice that sounded calm said, “I’ll come if you lower that gun. Don’t hurt him.”
“I don’t take orders, especially from the likes of you. Now come over here before I blow his face off.”
The barrel was again at Arthur’s head. The smell of the gunpowder, the heft of the muzzle setting creases above his eye, reminded him of long ago, walking his uncle’s ship with the sailors who didn’t want the kid too near the cargo hold. “Don’t touch her. Leave her be.”
“Mr. Bandit, sir, why don’t you come here?” Her voice sounded husky, not proper and prim or scared, as before. “I’d like a look at you.”
That tone made both the bandit and Arthur stare in her direction.
Her hands fluttered about her hair. Then her braid came down. She looked wild, almost savage with her chignon waving down her back as she swiveled her hips to music that only she heard.
“Oh, I see why you took off with her, mate.” He pointed his gun at the phaeton. “Why don’t you go on and leave me and the maid to play hide-and-go-seek in the woods.”
Arthur leaped to his feet and started for the man, but he again cocked his gun and pointed at him. “Go with your life. I’ll only tell you this once.”
The bandit started for her. “I’m stealing your plaything. Come on, lil’ Wowski, or shall I say, Rapunzel. Let me play. If your kind is good enough for Prince William to bed, then you’ll do fine for me.”
“Go, on love,” she said with a giggle, a nervous one. Your wife’s waiting around the bend. Let her know her maid won’t make it in today.” She fumbled with the top button of her dress. “Go on, lover boy.”
That’s when he knew it was an act to distract the bandit. “Fine, I was tired of you anyway. The likes of you cost me four guineas.”
He got into the phaeton and pushed it up the road a few paces and into the thicker grove around the bend, just far enough to pretend to leave. Arthur jumped to the ground, took a knife and rope from his seat storage and went back to save his brave bride-to-be.
Huffing, he charged through the brush. When he saw his brave Ester, she’d slipped deeper into the woods, but the bandit was now halfway to her.
“What game is this, lass? I’ve come this far, now you come out to me.”
Hips swiveling, Ester continued her dance, edging more into the woods. “You know my kind will say anything. And I’d say anything to keep you from my man.”
The sunlight wasn’t Arthur’s friend, but it slipped behind a cloud, giving him a little time to get closer to the woman who was risking her neck for him.
The highwayman cussed, as if that kind of talk would convince a peach like Ester to come closer. “I’m done with the games, Wowski. I don’t pull guns out on women, but there is a first for everything.” He lifted his gun and took aim at her. “Come now and dance for me, close and easy.”
No more space to go—Ester was against a tree. “Put down your gun and come get me.” She fingered the top button of her dress, popping it and one more. “’Less you’re scared of little old me?
