My Lady Notorious Read Free Page B

can trust me.”
    She gave a short, bitter laugh.
    He waited until he could catch her guarded eyes. “There’s a loaded
pistol on the seat of the coach. I didn’t use it earlier because your
sister was covering my men. I didn’t use it when I collected your loot
because I didn’t want to. I’m an excellent shot. I could have disarmed
you, crippled you, or killed you at my leisure.”
    She frowned at him, then spun on her heel and left. He heard the outer door slam and knew she had gone to check.
    A few minutes later the old woman tiptoed in with a spouted invalid
cup. “I’m sure you’d like a drink, my lord,” she said, and proceeded to
carefully feed him a cup of startlingly strong, sweet tea. It wasn’t as
he usually drank it but he was grateful for it all the same.
    When he’d finished she dabbed up a few drips with a snowy cloth.
“You mustn’t worry,” she said, patting one of his bound hands. “No
one’s going to hurt you. Ch… Charles is a little edgy these days.” She
shook her head and real anxiety shadowed her eyes. “It’s all been quite
terrible…”
    Again he had the feeling they were not addressing trivial matters here.
    “What should I call you?” he asked.
    “Oh, I’m just Nana. That’s what they all call me, so you may as well
too. Are your hands hurting? I didn’t tie you too tight, did I?”
    “No,” he assured her, though his hands were pricking with pins and
needles. He didn’t want Charles to come back and find him free, or
she’d suspect he’d just been trying to get her out of the house. He
probed for a little more information. “And what should I call Miss
Verity?”
    “Oh,” said the old lady, who was clearly no fool, “Verity will do,
won’t it? You must excuse me, my lord. I have the meal cooking.”
    Chastity Ware hurried through the gloom of the orchard to the
shadowy shape of the carriage. She had stopped in the kitchen to pick
up the dueling pistols and musket. It was past time to return them and
the horses. But her main purpose, she acknowledged, was to check her
prisoner’s words.
    Her mind seethed with dark thoughts. What had possessed her to kidnap Cyn Malloren?
    There’d been a point to keeping the coach, though it had been a
sudden inspiration. Verity and the baby would travel much better in a
private vehicle than on the stage.
    And there had been a point in making him drive it. She hadn’t wanted
to take her attention off the men long enough to drive it herself. She
had little faith in Verity’s ability to shoot anyone in any
circumstance.
    But even if she’d had him drive a little way, she could have left
him in a deserted spot. She’d driven a gig. Surely driving a
four-in-hand was not very different.
    A rogue male was the last thing they needed.
    In truth, it had been his insufferable male arrogance that had goaded her.
    He’d stood there in his blue and silver with foaming lace, too
beautiful to be decent, and not at all awed by her pistols. When he’d
offered her a pinch of snuff she’d thirsted to puncture his
self-assurance, to see him lying in the dirt. As he’d guessed, however,
she hadn’t been able to shoot him over it. Then he’d turned the tables
by making that gracious little speech to his servants. If it worked, it
would delay and perhaps prevent pursuit.
    She wished she knew what game he played, but at least now she had
him safe for a while. And how he was hating it. She smiled grimly to
herself as she opened the carriage door.
    The inside of the vehicle was dark and Chastity had to feel for the
weapon, but she found it just as he had said. She pulled the pistol
out, and in the uncertain light of a quarter moon confirmed that it was
primed and loaded in both barrels. He’d been boasting, of course, when
he’d said he could have disarmed, wounded, or killed her—she’d been
armed too—but she acknowledged he’d had a chance if he’d cared to take
it.
    What made her tremble was how careless she’d been to give it to