Man of My Dreams by Johanna Lindsey
She ran to get Sir Ambrose without further delay, grabbing only the tack necessary to control the mare, since riding bareback was one thing, but not being able to control a Thoroughbred like Sir Ambrose was another. The slight delay was costly, though. When she reached the road, there was no sign of Devlin anywhere, in any direction.
Megan wasn’t about to give up at that point just because there was barely any moonlight and the countryside stretched out dark and ominous around her. She headed in the direction that the robberies had occurred, near the Thackeray estate. In fact, now that she thought of it, the only people who had been robbed were guests of the Thackerays, and each occurrence had been when they were leaving one of Lady Ophelia’s parties.
She almost laughed, imagining what vexation the highwayman must be causing old hatchet-face. She did smile. Lady O might even be getting a few no-shows at her parties because of it, at least until the thief was caught. Too bad Megan hadn’t thought of it herself.
Her instinct for direction paid off a few minutes later as she caught sight of a movement, just a shadow, disappearing over the next rise in the road. She didn’t speed up to catch up with it, however. Knowing the countryside as well as she did, she turned off the road and headed inland, circling around until she finally came upon the small clump of woods that the road passed through just before the Thackeray estate.
A highwayman couldn’t ask for a more perfect setting to work in, she supposed. There would be ample concealment for him and his horse, numerous trails in the woods for a getaway that a coach couldn’t follow—if the victims even thought to give chase.
Those many trails let Megan come in from the back door, as it were, and stay far enough back from the road so that she couldn’t be seen by Devlin or his victims, but she could hear any carriages approaching. Not that she thought she might be lucky enough to have a robbery occur right there in front of her, even though she had chosen to wait in a spot more or less centered in the woods. She still fully expected that she would have to follow the victim for a ways before anything exciting happened, if it happened at all.
This was a weeknight, and Lady O threw her big parties on the weekends, unless she had guests staying over indefinitely. Then every night could be a big “something or other.” She was the queen of entertaining, after all. For that matter, she still entertained during the week whether she had houseguests or not, just much smaller gatherings. But a highwayman needed only one or two victims for a profitable night’s work.
She settled in to wait, tethering Sir Ambrose and moving a little closer to the road. With the nearly impenetrable darkness of the woods that she had traversed, what she could see of the road seemed much brighter now.
Megan didn’t get bored when an hour or so had passed and still no one had come along. She was enjoying herself too much, anticipating catching Devlin and having something to hold over his handsome head.
She finally heard a noise and moved even closer to the road until she could just make out the light flickering from a carriage lantern. The driver of the carriage wasn’t very motivated, or perhaps he had imbibed some while his master was being entertained. The vehicle took forever to reach Megan, giving her enough time to decide that she could follow it more easily and more quietly on foot and still keep to the trees.
She did just that, counting her steps so she would know where she had left her horse. But sooner than she expected, the end of the woods was sighted, and for the second time that evening, she was utterly deflated. The carriage would be on the safer open road in seconds. Bloody hell. Either Devlin was letting this one go, or…
“Stand and deliver!”
Megan’s heart jumped into her throat. He came out of the woods on her side of the road to block the carriage, not ten feet from her. Another few seconds and she might have walked right into him. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he was brandishing a pistol to reinforce the order he’d shouted.
The carriage did stand still. The occupants were slower to deliver. Megan was much slower in getting her heart back under control after the fright she’d taken at the sound of that high-pitched voice. High-pitched?
That wretched man, he was disguising his voice. Well, she needed better proof than the sound of his voice, anyway. Actually, she was going to have to confront him the minute he finished. Only how? She wasn’t about to unmask him in front of his victims. That wouldn’t give her anything to hold over him. It would merely get him arrested, which, actually, was the last thing she wanted to see happen, and that was a surprising thought.
Of course, he still had things to teach her, which he couldn’t do if he was carted off to gaol. But was that the only reason she didn’t want him arrested? This was no time to probe her motives, however, especially when she hadn’t figured out how she was going to stop him from riding off on Caesar as soon as he was through. She’d just have to get closer and be prepared.
Megan did just that, which enabled her to hear more clearly what was going on, too, though that wasn’t much. Some low grumbling from the victims, and a nasty chuckle from Devlin, who really seemed to be enjoying the power he was wielding.
But after a few moments more he became impatient. “Toss it down and be quick about it; then you can be on your way. And you’ll be quick about that, too, or I might decide I need some practice with this pistol.”
“You won’t get away with this.”
“’Course I will, you dolt, or were you planning to stop me?”
The answer to that was negative. Megan was getting really annoyed with Devlin for his taunting. It was bad enough he was robbing the poor fellow; he didn’t have to make sport of him, too.
She was going to tell him that just as soon as they were alone. And since he’d ordered his bounty tossed out on the ground, and would have to dismount to get it, she didn’t have to worry about him immediately riding off. She would have ample time to confront him when the carriage left, and it did that now.
They both waited until the carriage was a good distance away to make their moves. But the moment Devlin dismounted, Megan took a step forward—but so did someone else from the other side of the road.
She dropped back, her heart pounding fearfully again. Two of them? Was Devlin involving that nice Mr. Browne in his crimes? But the newcomer was too tall to be Mortimer Browne. And when Devlin noticed him, he was as surprised as Megan.
“Good God, you gave me a fright.”
“I’ll do more than that, Sanderson, if you don’t explain yourself to my satisfaction.”
Megan’s eyes popped wide open in surprise. That had been Devlin’s voice, no doubt about it. What the devil? And now she looked more closely at the horse to find that it wasn’t Caesar. Did it have to be so dark that she hadn’t noticed that little detail sooner? Well, if she had, she wouldn’t have stuck around long enough to learn that Devlin did know the highwayman, even if he wasn’t the culprit himself.
That got proved by Sanderson’s reply. “Devlin, is that you? Well, good God, man, what are you doing here?”
“I am not here,” Devlin replied with some very definite annoyance. “I have never been here. You have not seen me here. Is that clear to you?”
“Oh, quite, quite,” Sanderson quickly agreed, taking off the kerchief he’d had wrapped over his lower face and stuffing it in a pocket. “Hope you haven’t seen me either.”
“You, dear boy, aren’t that lucky. Now explain yourself, if you can.”
The highwayman shrugged, trying to make light of it. “I’m just having a bit of sport, Your—”
“Highway robbery is not sport, you ass. Try again.”
“Well, actually, I’ve had a devilish run of bad luck. Truth is, I needed the blunt.”
“It didn’t occur to you to ask your father? The earl isn’t known to be tight-fisted.”
“’Course it did, but he’s a bloody long way from here, and I’m stuck here courting one of the Earl of Wedgwood’s daughters. Father sent me here himself. Thinks it’s time I settled down. So what
“You could have suggested other ‘amusements’ besides gambling, was what you could have done. I would advise you to do that very thing, because your stint as a highwayman comes to an end tonight.”
“But I was actually having fun at it.”
“You’re not thinking of arguing with me, are you, dear boy?”
There was such underlying menace in that question, Megan couldn’t blame Sanderson for quickly assuring Devlin, “No, no, I wouldn’t think of it.”
“You will also return everything you’ve stolen from these good people.”
“But I can’t do that.”
“You can and will.”
“But I don’t have it all, you see. The trinkets, yes, but there was another game of hazard last night, and, well, my luck hasn’t improved yet.”
“How much?”
“Eighty pounds.”
Devlin made a sound of disgust as he reached into his pocket and came up with a wad of bills that he thrust at Sanderson. The young man took it in good grace, while Megan was flabbergasted that a horse breeder would have that kind of money to just give away.
“You will take that and the rest to the magistrate’s tonight. Drop it off with a note saying that you’ve seen the error of your ways. Do you foresee a problem with that?”
“No, no, tonight it will be.”
“Good, because if I don’t hear through the gossip mill that everything was returned, and I mean everything, I’ll be paying your father a visit. I wouldn’t care to do that, he wouldn’t care to hear what I have to say, and you wouldn’t care for the outcome. I trust we understand each other?”
“Indeed we do. Sorry to put you to the trouble. Won’t do it again, I swear…I…”
His words trailed off because Devlin had slipped back into the woods as quietly as he’d appeared. Megan didn’t wait around any longer either, making her way back to where she’d left Sir Ambrose. But she was frowning all the way. Why would an earl’s son be so intimidated by a horse breeder?
Chapter 22
The exchange Megan had witnessed between Devlin and the young lord-turned-temporary-highwayman bothered her all the way home. Certainly, she had to allow that there were any number of ways that Lord Sanderson could know Devlin, the most obvious being from the Sherring Cross stables, where Devlin had come from. But just because Devlin had worked for the Duke of Wrothston didn’t account for the deference paid him by an earl’s son. Sanderson should have put Devlin in his place and done the threatening, not the other way around.
Of course, threatening to go to the boy’s father had made an impression, but that hadn’t come until later. She supposed, though, that Sanderson might think that Devlin still worked at Sherring Cross and might go to the duke with his tale. He had been surprised to see Devlin here in Devonshire, after all. Then, too, she had to allow that Devlin, horse breeder or not, had a presence about him that was definitely formidable and downright intimidating when he chose to portray it. She had been susceptible to it herself.
Regardless, there was still something about that exchange that bothered Megan, and it wasn’t until she was nearly home that it came to her. Sanderson’s deference had been there from the first, as had been Devlin’s command of the situation—as if their circumstances were reversed, with Devlin being the lord and Sanderson the servant. Which made no sense. Working for a duke, no matter for how long, did not give a man prestige above his station, some arrogance maybe, but a servant still ought to know his place, especially next to a peer of the realm.
You’re being snobbish again.
But I’m right.
What you are is irritated as hell because he didn’t turn out to be the highwayman.
That was true enough. She really had been looking forward to holding that over him. Now, instead, she was probably in for another lecture about riding out at ungodly hours. Dratted man, why couldn’t he act like normal servants and not question his betters?
You’re doing it again.
I’m merely getting into the proper frame of mind to face a tyrant.
He’s not a tyrant, and hasn’t it occurred to you that lectures only come from concerned people, those concerned with your welfare and well-being?
Ha!
In either case, you’d better come up with a good excuse for where you’ve been, or will the truth do?
You know it won’t. But maybe he’s not back yet and I can sneak Sir Ambrose into her stall and get out of there before I’m noticed.
I wouldn’t count on it.
She didn’t, and he was—back, that is—and standing just inside the stable doors with his hands on his hips and one of the most stern expressions she’d ever seen on a man. Megan opted to brazen her way through what was coming.
“So you’re back?” she said before he could. “I was going to ask you to accompany me tonight on my errand, but you couldn’t be found.”
“Accompany you where?”
“One of my father’s tenants is doing poorly. I was supposed to visit the family this afternoon to see if they needed anything, only I was otherwise occupied and forgot—but better late than—”
“No sense, no bloody sense a’tall,” he said as he hauled her off Sir Ambrose. “And without a saddle!” he added as he noticed the lack there-of. His eyes came back to her. “You actually rode this animal without a saddle?”
Megan groaned inwardly, having completely forgotten about that. But brazenness was working. At least he no longer looked so stern, so she continued in that line.
“You make it sound as if I’ve never done so before,” she retorted. “It’s not difficult, I assure you. But I don’t know what you’re making such a fuss about. The only reason I was going to have you escort me was to avoid this very thing, this bad habit you have of involving yourself in my affairs, but the fact is that I certainly didn’t need your escort, since I didn’t even leave our property. But as long as this seems to be the hour for interrogations, where did you go?”
“Out to catch a thief.”
She hadn’t expected him to admit it. “Did you have any luck?”
“No,” he lied.
She knew he lied, but to say so would admit she had followed him. “Too bad. Once he is caught, maybe you’ll stop interfering with what I do and when I do it.”
“When you do it? I doubt it. Someone has to teach you some sense, and come to think of it, there’s no time like the present.”
He caught her hand and started dragging her to the mounting block. Megan’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widened incredulously, and she was a little bit in shock, knowing exactly what the man intended doing.
“Wait a minute. Devlin, you can’t really…I’ll have you arrested. I’ll have you—”
She landed hard across his knees the moment he sat down on the mounting block. She was about to scream her head off when he said, “Making a lot of noise won’t stop me, brat. It’ll just draw you an audience to watch.”
That was perfectly true and out of the question. She clamped her lips shut. She wouldn’t make a sound now if it killed her. But, by God, the man was going to regret this. If it was the last thing she did, she’d get even, somehow, and then…
The first smack was a revelation. It made a lot of noise when his hand connected with her bottom, though it didn’t actually hurt. She’d forgotten that she’d worn one of her thickest riding skirts. Well, the joke was going to be on Devlin, but she’d never tell. Of course, that was only the first whack. By the time he finished, and that was quite a while later, repetition had made silk out of thick wool, and Megan didn’t feel like laughing. She was furious that he could get away with doing t
When he set her on her feet, she didn’t give it prior thought, she simply swung at him with a closed fist—and missed. If that wasn’t enough to make her explode, she noticed his lips curling the slightest bit. Clearly the man found her impotent rage amusing.
“You are the most horrible bastard I’ve ever met!” she all but screeched.
“And how many have you met?”
His dispassionate reply gave her pause, long enough to inquire with genuine curiosity, “Is there no insult that you won’t shrug off?”
“Why should I be insulted?” he asked reasonably. “You’re all hot air and brambles, brat—except when you’re in my arms. Then you’re just hot.”
She couldn’t believe he’d said that. “You are dismissed! Fired! Exterminated!”
He cocked a brow at the last one. “Is that wishful thinking?”
“You know what I meant.”
“Indeed. Shall you be the one to tell your father, or shall I?”
She thought that over for a moment and knew the wretched man had won—again. She wasn’t about to tell her father or anyone else about this humiliating experience.
“Why can’t you just get out of my life?” she asked begrudgingly.
“What? Retreat under fire? Desert the war? Wouldn’t think of it, dear girl.”
That bit of absurdity had her looking around for something to throw at him. But her obvious intention brought him to his feet and his hands to her shoulders.
“I gave you fair warning this morning not to take such stupid risks with yourself,” he told her, no longer amused. “That spanking was to reinforce the warning, but perhaps you also need to be shown what happens to reckless females who go traipsing about at indecent hours.”
His intent was just as clear and had her drawing back as far as she could, appalled that he could think of kissing now. But little good that did her with his hands already gripping her. She was pulled forward, his head bent, and his mouth descended on her uncooperative lips before she could get a word out to stop him.