The Highwayman Read Free Page A

too, and he supposed he must have struck it when he fell from his horse.
    Past experience had taught him that the best way to take one’s mind off physical discomfort was to concentrate on something else. To that end, he stared at the female who had entered the room on the heels of those two Friday-faced minions who had deprived him of his clothing, then left him to bleed to death.
    As a means of distraction, she left much to be desired, and he needed only one glance to take her measure. To begin with, she looked to be far past her prime. She was also something of a Long Meg, being rather taller than the average female. Her hair, partially covered by a lacy white cap, was a soft, though unremarkable shade of brown. And her gown, while obviously of the finest material and well made, was not designed to show off her feminine attributes to any advantage.
    If she even had any feminine attributes to show off, he thought sourly. He had no means of knowing whether or not she was married, but everything about her fairly shouted Ape Leader. To do her justice, however, she did possess a rather fine pair of clear, grey eyes.
    Had he not been in such pain, and so angry at finding himself here—wherever here was—and, worst of all, in such a damnably helpless state, he might almost have laughed at the expression of shock she’d worn upon first entering the room. That had soon given way to her present look of pinched disapproval. It took no imagination whatever to know that this female had never before been presented with the sight of an unclothed male.
    He watched her warily as she approached the bed and, in order to retain some control over his situation, he forestalled anything she might say by demanding, “Where the devil am I?”
    A small, strained smile had begun to form on her lips, but at his words she pressed them firmly together once more before replying, in a surprisingly civil tone, “You are at Meadowbrook, sir. My home. And I am...”
    He did not hear the remainder of her speech, for his senses began to dim as another wave of faintness washed over him. He squeezed his eyes shut as be fought it. When it finally passed, he spoke through gritted teeth. “And how is it that I find myself an unwilling guest here, ma’am?”
    A frown of concern creased her brow, but he was far too occupied with more immediate matters to note it.
    “I shall be happy to answer your questions, sir,” she said. “But at a later time, if you please. For now, suffice it to say that you have been shot; that the bullet is still in the wound; and that it must be removed and the bleeding stopped if you are to survive. I am sorry to state the matter so bluntly, but that is the truth in a nutshell.”
    “Bloody hell!” he muttered. Then, glancing behind her and seeing only one of the minions, he said, “In that case, I hope you have sent for a doctor.”
    From the expressions which crossed her face, he was certain that he could see into her mind with a great deal of accuracy. Quite obviously, she was magnanimously suppressing her natural instinct to object to his language. He felt certain, too, that she was attempting to make allowances for a man who was in a great deal of pain as well as weakened from loss of blood. It was a pity that he was not able, just now, to appreciate fully the humour of it all.
    She said, injecting a tone of rueful amusement into her voice, “Well, as to that, I am afraid that there is no doctor available.”
    His eyes had closed again, but now they shot open in another furious glare.
    Before he could treat her to more of what she undoubtedly considered his offensive utterances, she rushed into speech again. “However, sir, you are fortunate in that I have some knowledge of the healing arts. In fact, at the risk of sounding conceited, I am considered to be something of an expert in that area, and in the absence of a physician, I propose to remove the bullet myself.”
    “The hell you will!”
    Her mouth compressed once