A Highwayman's Honor: (A Highland Highwayman Novella #1) Read Free Page B

asked.
    He grinned and reached for a pitcher on the table beside the bed to refill her cup. “Usually, no.”
    She accepted the cup gratefully. “Don’t be shy on my account.”
    “I wear the mask for your protection.”
    She drank and handed the cup back to him. “Don’t you mean for yours?”
    “No.” He placed the cup on the table and grabbed a folded rag. “If you were to know my true identity, I’m afraid I’d have to…make sure the information went no further.”
    Elizabet didn’t think he was jesting. She also didn’t think he referred to a stern talking to. He sat beside her and reached for her chemise. She drew away from him and he frowned.
    “I’m not going to hurt you. I need to check the bandage on your shoulder,” he said his forehead creasing, as though he were somehow offended that she might think him a threat.
    “Well, you did just threaten to kill me if I saw your face. Not to mention it was your man who shot me. You can understand my caution.”
    His lips quirked up. “Indeed. It is always wise to be cautious.”
    He tended to her shoulder with surprising gentleness, cleaning the wound and re-bandaging it with skill and speed.
    “Bandage many gunshot wounds, do you?” she asked.
    “A few.”
    He responded without an ounce of humor in his voice and Elizabet was reminded what this man did for a living.
    “Not that I’m not grateful, but why am I here?” she asked.
    An eyebrow peeked up above the edge of the mask. “The horses bolted, taking your carriage and your parents off into the night, leaving you quite alone. You’d rather I left you in the dust to die?”
    “No.” She shivered and reached for the blanket but the movement sent another bolt of fire down her arm and she drew her breath in with a hiss. He stood up long enough to pull the thick quilt up to her neck and then sat back beside her.
    “Thank you,” she said with a sigh. “No. I’m glad you didn’t leave me to die. I suppose I just don’t understand why you didn’t. Bringing me to your home seems a dangerous thing to do. What if I were to escape? Unless you don’t plan on letting me live long enough to try.”
    Those full lips of his pulled into a smile again. “First of all, this isn’t my home. It’s…a place to go when needed. More importantly, I doubt you could even get out of this bed right now, let alone try to escape. But I haven’t kidnapped you for any wicked purpose. I simply couldn’t leave a woman alone on a dangerous country road bleeding her life’s blood into the dirt. Especially since I am responsible. I do have some morals. When you are well, you’ll have no need of escape. I’ll return you to your home. If I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t bother healing you.”
    “Oh,” she said, relaxing a little. She hadn’t thought he’d meant her harm, not when he took pains to care for her so carefully. But it helped to hear him say it.
    “Besides,” he continued, “you were unconscious the entire trip here and you’ve yet to see my face. So even if you were to escape, it would do you little good and me little harm.”
    He reached over and brushed a lock of hair from her face. She stared into his eyes, so dark a brown they were almost black, wishing she could see more of his face. His hair flowed uncovered to his shoulders. Brown, though not completely. The strands reminded her of a mahogany table that once sat in her grandmother’s parlor. Unremarkable until the sun hit it, highlighting the deep red tones of the wood.
    Most of his face was covered. The mask left only the lower half of his face bare and what she could see was covered in rough stubble. She had the sudden urge to reach up and run her fingers along his jaw line, his full lips. Feel the difference in texture. See if those lips were as soft as they looked. She clenched her hand in a fist and dropped her gaze.
    His smug grin left little doubt he knew exactly what path her thoughts had taken. “Your best chance for a quick