Her Wicked Ways
The door of the second vehicle was flung wide. Pale hair glistened in the moonlight as a female head poked forth and looked down at where the step would have been if the footman had pulled it out. She raised her face and Fox’s jaw loosened. He just managed to keep it from unhinging entirely and dropping to his feet.
Her heart-shaped face was perfectly proportioned with delicious bow lips set into a strong chin. A delicate nose turned up at the end in a rather saucy fashion, softly angled cheekbones were barely tinged with pink, and eyes that tilted at the outside invited a myriad of forbidden thoughts.
“Are you here to steal our money or gape?” She jumped from the coach then, scattering a spray of mud as she landed in the lane. The girl looked down at the dark spots now marring the lower skirt of her dress. He’d no idea what it was made of, but the rich fabric and sparkling decoration made it appear costly. She raised her gaze to Fox’s once more and again, the impact of her beauty hit him like a blow to the head.
Rob coughed loudly.
Fox slid a glance in his steward’s direction. Rob gestured toward the first coach.
Right. Time for business.
“We’re here to steal his money.” Fox eyed her gown again. He was no expert on fashion, but he knew expensive cloth when he saw it. “Though, I’m happy to take yours as well.”
“I have no money, sadly.” The beauty heaved a great sigh. She was disappointed she didn’t have money for him to steal? “Perhaps I might offer you something else?”
He’d take whatever she offered, regardless of its value. He couldn’t afford not to.
“Get the money from the first carriage,” Fox said to Rob. “I’ll take care of this one.”
Fox kept the pistol in his right hand as he moved toward the beauty presently shaking – to no avail – the mud from her hem, his boots squelching into the wet earth. She stood with her chin elevated.
Up close, she was even more stunning. Impossibly so. She smelled of oranges and clove. Spicy. And completely feminine. Caution screamed at him from the recesses of his mind, even while his pulse quickened. “What do you have for me?”
She stepped toward him until they stood a mere hand’s width apart. “A kiss.”
His jaw did drop then. He willed his brain to think of the orphans. They needed him. They needed her. Or, her money anyway.
“I don’t need a kiss. I need your money or something else of value.”
“I have no money and nothing you could sell for money.” She sighed again after delivering the news, a sound of deep regret.
“I don’t believe you. You reek of money.” Fox sniffed loudly to punctuate his statement and got a nose full of her alluring scent for his trouble.
“I know.” Her lips curved into the hint of a smile. It was tantalizing. It was a promise of something that would be so incomparable as to halt his breath while he waited for the sun to rise. He had halted his breath. Or at least, he’d gasped at the air and she’d heard it. Her mouth widened and her face shone beneath the glory of the most wondrous smile the earth had surely ever known.
What the hell kind of highwayman was he, fixating on some chit like a cheap Byron impostor?
“You must have something of value. A piece of jewelry? A quizzing glass?”
She arched a brow. “Quizzing glass? What do you take me for? A doddering dowager?”
Good God, no. Never that. “How are you doing over there?” Fox yelled over at Rob. Highway robbery wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.
“Coming along.
“Excellent.” Fox was ever aware of his proximity to the beauty. It was past time to end this impossible flirtation. “I don’t have time to discuss the finer points of your, er, doddering or lack thereof. Might you return to the carriage and retrieve whatever it is you have of value? I’d hate to have to use my weapon.”
“Your weapon?” Her gaze flicked downward.
Hell’s teeth, had she just looked at his crotch?
“Your pistol? You’re not even pointing it at me.”
She was quite maddeningly correct. His pistol hung from his fingers, forgotten amidst her beauty and the dizzying effect of her nearness.
“Yes, my pistol. I’d prefer not to point it at you, but if you do not procure your valuables immediately, I shall be forced to do so.”
A pouch landed in the mud near their feet. Both of them looked down.
“Here!” A second chit poked her head from the rear coach. “That’s everything we have. She’s not lying to you. Her parents have exiled her to Wiltshire and gave her nothing of value as punishment. She doesn’t even have her maid.”
“Beatrice!” The beauty threw a glare at the coach. At last, she appeared ruffled.
Fox’s lips quirked beneath his mask. A spoiled Society chit then. “Would you mind picking that up and putting it in my cloak?”
She turned back to him, her bow-shaped lips pursed. He couldn’t discern the hue of her eyes, but imagined them to be the color of the sea – not blue, not green, but something just between the two. “I suppose you’re going to threaten me with shooting again if I don’t obey?”
The sound of the word “obey” coming from those lips roused the desire he barely kept in check. He licked his lips, searching for the moisture needed to form words. He wanted to say that he hadn’t threatened to shoot her, but was unable to speak.
With a huff, she bent and plucked the pouch from the ground. She straightened and raised her right brow again. “Do you have a pocket?”
Fox forced the words from his mouth. “In my cloak. Here.” With his free hand, he held the left side of his black cloak open. She reached inside and fumbled for a moment, the back of her left hand—she wore no gloves, he realized—grazing the front of his waistcoat. Upon locating the pocket he’d had sewn solely for the purpose of this robbery, she deposited the purse. She pulled her hand back, but he grabbed her fingers, bare against the leather of his glove. Her gaze met his and her lips parted.
Later he would chastise himself for his poor judgment, but now, now he would kiss her.
