A Dark and Brooding Gentleman Read Free

man. ‘Such impatience. There are better ways to persuade a lady.’ And then to Phoebe, ‘Forgive my friend.’ His gaze meandered over her face, pausing to linger upon her lips.
    A
frisson
of fear rippled down Phoebe’s spine. She knew then that she would have to give them the bag, to yield her possessions. Better that than the alternative.
    She threw the bag to land at their feet.
    Black Kerchief swung the bag between his fingers as he gauged its weight. ‘Far too heavy for a wee slip o’ a lassie like you.’ She could tell he was smiling again beneath his mask, but in a way that stoked her fear higher. ‘Search it,’ he instructed his accomplice and did not move, just kept his eyes on Phoebe. ‘Best relieve the lassie of any unnecessary weighty items.’
    Red Kerchief, or Jim as he had been called, lifted the bag and, making short work of its buckle fastenings, began to rake within. He would find nothing save herclothing, a pair of slippers, a comb and some toiletries. Thankfully her purse, and the few coins that it contained, was hidden inside the pocket of her dress.
    Phoebe eyed the man with disdain. ‘I have no money or jewels, if that is what you are after.’
    ‘She’s right; there’s nothin’ here,’ Jim said and spat his disgust at the side of the road.
    ‘Look again,’ instructed Black Kerchief. ‘What we’ve got here is a bona fide lady, if her accent and airs and graces are anythin’ to go by. She must hae somethin’ o’ value.’
    His accomplice emptied the contents of her bag out onto the verge and slit open the lining of her bag. Further rummaging revealed nothing. He dropped the bag with its ripped lining on top of the pile of her clothes and spat again.
    ‘Nothin’.’
    Phoebe prayed a coach would pass, but the road ahead remained resolutely empty and there was silence all around. ‘I did tell you,’ she said. ‘Now if you would be so kind as to let me pass on my way.’ She held her head up and spoke with a calm confidence she did not feel. Inside her heart was hammering nineteen to the dozen and her stomach was a small tight knot of fear. She made to step towards the bag.
    ‘Tut, tut, darlin’, no’ so fast.’ The black-masked highwayman caught her back with an arm around her waist. ‘There’s a price to pay to travel this road, and if you’ve nae money and nae jewels …’ His gaze dropped lower to the bodice of her dress and lower still to its dusty skirt before rising again to her face.
    Phoebe felt her blood run cold. ‘I have nothing to give you, sir, and I will be on my way.’
    He laughed at that. ‘I think I’ll be the judge of that, hen.’ He looked at Phoebe again. ‘I’ll hae a kiss. That’s the price to continue on your way.’
    She heard the other man snigger.
    The villain curled his arm tighter and pulled her closer. The stench of ale and stale sweat was strong around him. ‘Dinnae be shy, miss, there’s no one here to see.’
    ‘How dare you, sir? Release me at once. I insist upon it.’
    ‘Insist, do you?’ The highwayman pulled his mask down and leered at her to reveal his discoloured teeth. It was all Phoebe could do not to panic. Vying with the fear was a raging well of fury and indignation. But she stayed calm and delivered him a look that spoke the depth of her disgust.
    He laughed.
    And as he did she kicked back as hard as she could with her stout walking boots against his shins. He was not laughing then.
    A curse rent the air and she felt the loosening of his hands. Phoebe needed no further opportunity. She tore herself from his grip, hoisted up her skirts and, abandoning her bag, began to run.
    The man recovered too quickly and she heard his booted footsteps chasing after her. Phoebe ran for all she was worth, her heart thudding fast and furious, her lungs panting fit to burst. She kept on running, but the highwayman was too fast. She barely made it a hundred yards before he caught her.
    ‘Whoa, lassie. No’ so fast. You and I