My Lady Notorious Read Free

him by the
roadside. Rothgar was not a man to cross.
    She made a good recovery. “I’ll judge you on your own deeds, my lord. My word on it. Now, unhitch the team.”
    Cyn saluted ironically. “Aye, aye, sir.”
    He climbed down and stripped off his greatcoat and tight-waisted
frock coat. He tucked the foaming lace at his cuffs out of harm’s way,
and went to work.
    The sun had set, and there was little light. A damp cold bit into
him despite the hard work. The task took some time and she didn’t help,
just sat there, pistol at the ready. At one point she looked behind him
and said, “Go back to the house, Verity. Everything’s all right. We’ll
be there in a while.”
    Cyn looked around and saw the glimmer of a pale gown turn to go back
to the cottage. He’d lay odds that had been the other highwayman.
Everything about this situation intrigued him.
    What were two young women who appeared to be of gentle birth doing in this cottage?
    Why had they turned to thievery?
    And what, in God’s name, did they want with the coach?
    He rubbed the horses down with wisps of dry grass and covered them
with the blankets Hoskins kept ready for a wait. “They could do with
some water,” he said.
    “There’s a stream down the end of the orchard. They’ll find it. Let’s get up to the house. You take the loot.”
    Cyn gathered up his coats, not bothering to put them on again. He
went to the coach and collected the trinket case. He considered the
pistol thoughtfully. It would be ridiculously easy to pick up the
firearm and shoot his captor. As he left it there, he wondered whether
he would regret his foolishness.
    Within half an hour, the answer was yes.
    From where he lay spread-eagled on a brass bed, hands and feet tied
to solid corner-posts, he glared up at the three hovering women. “When
I win free, I’m going to throttle the lot of you.”
    “That’s why you’re bound,” said the one who still pretended to be male. “We wouldn’t know a moment’s peace if you were loose.”
    “I gave my word you had nothing to fear from me.”
    “Faith, you did not. You said you wouldn’t turn us over to the
authorities. You might intend other mischief—against my sister and
nurse, for example.”
    Cyn looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Charles“ was proving to be a
fascinating enigma. She had shed her cloak, hat, and scarf on entering
the cottage. Soon, almost absentmindedly, the wig had gone too. He
sympathized. He’d never liked wearing a wig and preferred the bother of
his own hair.
    Even stripped of disguise, she made a tolerably convincing young
man. Her suit of braided brown velvet fit neatly, and if a bosom
swelled beneath, the lace frill of her shirt hid it well enough.
    Her head was not shorn, but her hair was a sleek cap of light brown
dusted with gold, with just the ripples of a wave. It was an
extraordinary hairstyle for a female, but it did not look as outrageous
as it should, perhaps because she was not a soft-featured lady. She
made a handsome youth.
    She was smooth-skinned, of course, which made her look about
sixteen, though he would guess she must be closer to twenty. Her voice
was rather low-pitched. Her lips might be charming if she relaxed them
in a smile, but she kept them tight and angry. He didn’t know why the
devil she was so angry with him.
    Her companions were equally mystifying.
    Verity, presumably the sister, had long, lustrous wavy hair in a
shade between honey and gold, and a soft, feminine mouth. In contrast
to Charles, she had a lush figure. Presumably Charles had her breasts
bound, but iron bands wouldn’t obliterate Verity’s generous shape,
which was well-displayed by a low neckline and wide fichu. The outfit
she wore, however, was more suited to a serving maid than to a lady of
quality.
    Verity appeared to be the epitome of a womanly woman. To prove it
she was much more nervous and kindhearted than her sister. “We can’t
keep him like this indefinitely,” she pointed out.
    “Of