The air sucked out of Arthur. She was brazen and wild, but smart as a fox.
“Sure, love. A little busty thing like you is no threat. We’ll play it your way, for now.” The fiend set his gun down but pulled a knife from his boot. He took the final steps and dangled it in front of her wide eyes. “You like to tease.” He drew the knife point down her bosom. “But I think you won’t disappoint.”
Dropping the rope, barely in control of the rage pumping through his veins, Arthur balled his knuckles and pounced. He leaped and knocked the knife, sending it far away. Then he punched the man, three blows for every one the highwayman could muster. He wasn’t going to let the thief have any part of her. “She hasn’t disappointed me ever.”
One deep blow after the other, Arthur sent the bandit careening backward.
“I’ll kill ye both.”
But Arthur wasn’t done. He was back onZhonda, his uncle’s ship, but he was finally big enough to pummel the first mate, the one leading the charge to toss the cargo overboard.
Hands went up about Arthur’s neck, but he broke the choking hold. He beat the man below him until blood splatted his hands. All was silent below him, but Arthur fought against the sailors who kept him from reasoning with his uncle. If he didn’t stop the crew, the killings would continue. The cargo below wouldn’t be saved, all tossed into the ocean to drown.
Arthur took his knife and put it to the first mates throat. “It’s over. No more will die.”
The cock of the gun sounded, and again he smelled gunpowder. “Bex?”
A soft palm touched his cheek. “He’s done-in, Bex. You don’t have to kill him. Look, you saved me.”
Blinking, he came back to himself, stashed his knife in his pocket, then stood.
She handed him the gun. His hand shook while he fisted his fingers about the barrel.
“Bex?”
He yanked off the highwayman’s scarf and wiped his hands clean, but couldn’t say anything to her. His mind hadn’t settled. It was still in the past, still haunted.
With a better grip to the gun’s stock, he fought the temptation to blast holes in the highwayman, but that wouldn’t cleanse Arthur’s memories.
“We are all right, Bex.”
Lowering the gun, Arthur turned and snatched her about her waist and held her until his heart slowed. “You’re crazed. What if I were a lesser man?”
“You’re not. You’re Arthur Bex, and I’m safe. We are safe. I never lost faith in you.” She reached up as he bent his head, and she kissed his cheek. The softest lips planted on his jaw as the words she’d said blessed his lonely soul.
She hugged his neck again before pulling him toward the phaeton. “Now, let’s get out of here. Someone will think it’s my fault.”
“I’m going to tie the highwayman up first. Get the rope from the bushes over there.”
Her lips had pressed to a thin line, but she nodded and ran like a rabbit then bounced back with the jute in hand.
Arthur practiced breathing as he did for a direct address, focused and in control, even as he pointed the flintlock pistol at the bandit’s head.
Not trusting himself and his fight with the past, he handed the gun to her. “Hold this, Ester, while I bind up your highwayman.” Taking the rope, he twisted it about the bandit’s hands and feet, then dragged him to a tree.
Ester stared as if she’d seen a ghost when he’d finished. All the bravery she’d had seemed to disappear. “The coils about his wrists, his ankles. You’ve hung him up like an enslaved man.”
“What?”
“Something my father once described.” She touched at her bosom. “You don’t know how frightening a thing is, not until you see it.”
Arthur looked back at the highwayman. The man’s blonde hair caught the morning sun as he lay with his hands and feet bound like shackles to a boat hull. Sweat beaded and rolled down Arthur’s face as he struggled to contain the venom in his heart for his memories, for his uncle. “I…I don’t want the highwayman to escape before a constable can find him.”
“Bex, let’s go.” Her hand shook as she picked up her bag. “I knew you’d come back to save me.”
Her gloves were off and she put her free palm against his brown jacket sleeve. In the early light, he and this lovely woman were barely distinguishable, like they were one. They had to be one, for no one had seen him so weak—not in a long time. He forced a deep breath. “That was dangerous, Ester. He could’ve hurt you, or worse.”
“He was going to hurt you.” She moved from him too soon, but before he could object, she went to the bandit and pulled Arthur’s guineas from the man’s jacket. “These are your coins, not his.”
