Page 47 of Her Wicked Highwayman
“You told me you were finished,” Ashton said.
“Finished?” Rafe asked carefully. “Finished with what?”
Ashton pushed a paper across the desk and tapped his index finger at an article. “This.”
Rafe read the article’s title aloud: “Gang of Highway Thieves Strikes Again. Lord Caddington States He Is Determined to Catch Them.” He read the rest of the article in silence, and a chill ran deep through his bones. Caddington was the man who had caused their father’s death—not that Ashton knew that. Rafe had done everything to avoid that man since that awful night. The very sight of his name was enough to make Rafe ill. Feeling faint, he gripped the back of a nearby chair so hard his knuckles went white.
“Rafe?” Ashton’s voice lost some of its cold harshness. “What’s wrong?”
“I...” He bowed his head, breathing slowly to calm his racing heart in order to prevent himself from retching all over his shoes. “Sorry, Ash, I feel suddenly rather unwell,” he confessed.
His brother ushered him into the chair, then leaned back against the edge of his desk. “So youhavebeen robbing again?”
“What? No.” Rafe pointed at the article. “Look at the two dates the thieves struck... I was here with you and Rosalind.” That was not a lie, at least. Whoever had robbed those coaches hadn’t been him or his friends. It was someone else using their methods, even their pseudonyms.
Ashton picked up the paper again and seemed to be doing some mental calculations. “You’re right. I hadn’t given a thought to the dates, only the areas where the robberies occurred. Theyare in your known territory.” He placed a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “I apologize for the accusation.”
Rafe nodded. His stomach lurched and he closed his eyes. He tried not to think about the fact that he technically was lying to his brother and that hewasstill robbing coaches. Just not these specific two incidences.
“Rafe, what’s the matter? If it’s not about the robberies, then what is it?”
“Cad—” The name was a blight upon his tongue. “Caddington. The man mentioned in the article. I know him. He’s dangerous, Ash. A man best avoided at all costs.” He couldn’t tell Ashton what Caddington had done. He didn’t want to speak of that awful night ever again, nor did he want to remind Ashton that it was Rafe’s fault their father was dead.
“I have heard of him, but I’ve never met him. He is a local magistrate, one with a reputation for meting out harsh punishments. What has he done to you?” Ashton’s fingers tightened slightly on Rafe as the brothers locked gazes.
“I met him once, years ago.” The memories clawed their way to the surface. “He is a man with no soul. His eyes are empty of all but the need to cause others pain. Promise me—” Rafe grasped Ashton’s wrist. “Promise me you will stay away from him.” Rafe had never begged Ashton for anything, but he was begging now.
Ashton’s eyes widened. “I will avoid him if I can, I promise.”
Rafe sighed and fell back against the chair. That horrible name had stolen him back to the past, when he’d been a foolish young man.
I am no longer that boy. I can protect myself and Isla,he reminded himself.
“Perhaps you should take a walk in the gardens for a bit to clear your head?” Ashton suggested.
“Yes, that’s an excellent idea.” His legs were still shaky as he stood, but he felt better.
Ashton walked with him to one of the doors that led to the gardens. “Do you want me to walk with you?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I will be fine,” he assured his brother.
“Very well, but don’t stay out too late. It looks as though it might rain this afternoon.”
Rafe stepped out into the gardens and looked to the skies. Towering dark clouds seemed to stretch forever. The afternoon sun, in defiance of the coming storm, glowed gold upon the trees and grass. Caspian had always teased Rafe since their university days about being a ceraunophile, a lover of storms. He loved the way the rain covered the earth and tapped upon the panes of glass, how the thunder shook the doors and frames while the trees bent to the might of its winds. Storms could ravage and destroy, but they also cleansed whatever they touched.
Turning toward the garden path, Rafe walked in the direction of those mountainous clouds, feeling stronger with each step. He turned his mind to the matter of this new gang of highwaymen. The thefts had been committed on nights he had been at home, and neither Will nor Caspian would ride without him. The article said three men had been involved in the robberies. Three wasn’t an unusual number, but the witnesses had heard the men’s names.Tyburn, Cambridge, and Oxford.That coincidence could not be ignored. So who were these imposters?
Rafe would find out, but that would take time, and he might even need to enlist Will and Caspian’s help. The last thing he could afford was to lose the chance to restart their thefts soon. His highwayman activities were his only source of income at the moment, and he could not put that at risk. He’d already been forced to delay his activities a month, and he’d lost all ofthe income that he had saved up for months prior to that since Diana Fox had stolen it all.
He circled back to the house, taking his time to walk through the maze of hedgerows, when he heard feminine voices just on the other side of the bushes where he stood.
“I thought for sure Rafe would turn up soon,” Rosalind said to someone.
“Rafe?” the other woman replied.
Rafe stilled, his breath halting.
He recognized that voice, because it was a voice that haunted his dreams with sinful fantasies. There was no way he could forget that gasp or how it had been followed by a moan as he’d pumped himself into the wet heat of her body, her legs tight around his waist. Vengeance and lust speared through him, sharp enough to steal his breath. He wanted to seize the woman, kiss her, and then reprimand her in the same breath.
