Page 61 of Her Wicked Highwayman
He ached to see Diana just as much when he rode away from the house as when he had first arrived. She had become his obsession, but in a quiet, deeper way than anything he’d ever been fascinated with in his life. He’d been able to bare his soul to her, to tell her nearly every secret, save the one that had him wearing his mask tonight.
Twice he’d taken Diana and Isla on picnics. Everything had felt so easy with the three of them, so right. It amazed him how much Isla was like Diana, how she’d turn her head at an angle, or the way she’d nibble on tarts or biscuits. He became overwhelmed with a sense of blissful contentment whenever he looked at these two ladies in his life.
Things were going so well that he was becoming frustrated.
He shouldn’t be allowing thoughts of her to distract him from the here and now. Now that he knew Caddington was delivering money to London, he would strike at the man in the only way that could hurt him—by emptying his pockets again and again. And if it furthered Rafe’s ability to support Isla and Diana, then it was all the better.
The sound of hooves and wheels could now be heard. “Here it comes,” Will hissed, calling Rafe’s attention back to the road.
Rafe and Caspian drew their pistols. They each had two more tucked under their cloaks because of Molly’s warning. They’d taken coaches with just as many men before, ones ready to fightto keep their purses. Will and Caspian were as well trained as Rafe in the art of swordplay as well as with pistols. They would be able to handle the additional men tonight, but it was important not to be overconfident.
The coach came around the bend of the road. Just as Rafe was ready to call the charge, a crack of gunfire interrupted him.
Impossible.They couldn’t already be spotted, could they?
Just then, three cloaked riders emerged from the woods on the opposite side of the road, closer to the coach than Rafe and his companions.
“Who thedevilare they?” Will snarled as his horse reared up and stomped its hooves down in fury at being held back.
“Wait,” said Caspian. “You don’t think those are . . . ?”
“I’m afraid so,” Rafe growled. “It seems the men impersonating us are no longer content with taking our identities—now they are taking our targets as well.”
“The bloody cheek of them,” said Will. “Taking what’s rightfully ours to steal.”
Rafe watched the three imposters circle the coach. Their shouts were lost in the wind, but he knew what was happening. The night was not yet too dark, dusk having only passed an hour before, and rain clouds were only partly scattered across the sky.
Crack!Without warning, the four armed guards opened fire, smoke billowing out through the partially open coach doors, the flash of gunfire seen as white-hot bursts of light. After the imposters were caught off guard, the guards leapt out of the coach and pressed their advantage in the field of battle.
“The fools didn’t come armed like we did,” Rafe said as he realized what he was watching. He loosened his reins a bit as his horse danced with agitation.
“Pays to have a Molly on your side, eh?” Will said with a sly look to Caspian.
Rafe started to move forward, but Caspian grabbed his arm. “Rafe, you do not mean to help them? Surely...”
“I never like an unfair fight. It could easily have been us.” Rafe pulled free of Caspian’s hand and dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, charging out of their hiding spot and onto the road.
The scene ahead of him was chaos. Men were shouting and firing guns, lighting up the surrounding gloom with brief flashes. The rain had caused the coach’s wheels to sink deep into muddy ruts. Horses screamed and one of the three imposters fell from his saddle. Rafe halted his horse twenty yards away and lifted his pistol, aiming for one of the armed men from the coach, and fired with a thunderous crack.
The man went down, howling as he clutched his leg. Two others were focused on a second imposter who had come to the aid of the first.
“Get back!” Rafe took out his second pistol and fired at one of the guards. The imposter, who had crouched over his wounded comrade, whirled and lashed out with a slender blade, forcing one of the armed brutes back a step.
But he was not so easily deterred. The guard moved in and struck the thief across the face with a meaty fist, knocking the man out cold next to his companion. The guard now lunged forward, a wicked blade in his hand, intent on finishing the job.
Rafe removed a third pistol from his cloak and fired into the man’s back. The guard collapsed onto the muddy road. There was no time to ruminate on his sins. The thunder of hooves behind him told him Caspian and Will had joined the fray.
Their arrival gave Rafe a chance to see to the wounded thieves. Rafe first checked on the man who’d been shot. The one who’d been knocked unconscious was already starting to come around and groaned, touching his face. The imposters tensed as Rafe approached and slid off his horse, still wearing his mask.
“Ye’d best get him up and on his horse and be off or else ye’ll all be dead,” Rafe snapped in his Scottish brogue. “I’ll help ye.”
He grabbed the man who’d been shot and helped him mount his horse. Then he turned to the other man, who mounted his own horse. “Get out of here, now!” he snapped.
The man clutching his injured shoulder whistled sharply, the sound cutting across the road, and the third of the imposter thieves wheeled his horse around and headed straight for them. “Thank you...”
Rafe had the sudden urge to reassure the man he’d be all right, so long as he could get away from here, and prayed the man would.
“Cleanse that wound unless ye wish to die a lingering death. Go!” Rafe smacked his hand on the horse’s flank, sending the beast flying into the night. Then he spun and dove back into the fight. He flipped his hold on his last pistol to catch it by the handle and swung it at one of the men’s face. The man went down hard, and Rafe punched another man in the stomach, causing him to double over.
