eyes. âAnd you will shut your mouth and behave yourself or Iâll return and hang you from the nearest tree. Capisce? â
âI hope you break your bloody neck,â the lad muttered.
âI would cut out his tongue, if I were you.â Carlos muttered. âIt would be a great improvement.â
Philippe ignored his captiveâs sharp gasp. âNot until I have the information I need. After thatâ¦well, you shall be quite welcome to hang him from whichever tree you prefer.â
CHAPTER THREE
R AINE WAS FURIOUS as she struggled to free herself from the folds of the damnable cape.
What an impulsive fool she had been.
When she had decided to take on the role of the Knave of Knightsbridge to dupe the magistrate, she had deliberately chosen the back roads and lanes near Knightsbridge to stalk her prey. The pickings were hardly fine, and more than a few nights she was forced to return to the cottage empty-handed, but the dangers were few. And most important, she managed to keep her father from the gallows.
How could Josiah Wimbourne be guilty when he was so visibly seen about the village at the same time the Knave was robbing carriages miles away?
Not that Tom Harper was entirely convinced that Josiah was innocent. But he could hardly arrest the man without some proof.
Today, however, her father had sternly informed her that this would be her last night of playing the dashing Knave. His shoulder had at last healed and the magistrate was temporarily thwarted. He was determined that his daughter would no longer court such risk.
Raine had discovered herself sharply disappointed by his command. Her daring charade had proved to be remarkably exciting as she had dashed about the countryside and collected a small fortune in coins and jewels to be handed over to her neighbors.
She felt as if she were actually accomplishing something important. Something that could give her rather empty life meaning.
An odd sentiment in a young woman, perhaps, but she had never been the sort of maiden to be content with keeping house and pandering to the needs of a man.
With the knowledge that she would soon be returning to her dull existence, Raine had taken a ridiculous gamble and chosen this well-traveled road to make her grand departure as the Knave. Her head had been filled with images of wealthy noblemen dripping in jewels and carrying crates of gold.
Her head should have been filled with the knowledge that such wealthy noblemen never traveled alone, and invariably possessed the sort of servants who were perfectly capable of protecting their masters.
As if to emphasize her stupidity, she was forced to helplessly watch as the dark, irritating Carlos vaulted on top her beloved Maggie and took off down the frozen road. At the same moment the raven-haired gentleman climbed into the carriage and with a low command to the coachman closed the door to lock them together in the shadowed interior.
Gritting her teeth as the carriage jerked to a start, Raine stared at the man seated across from her.
Had they simply met in the street, she had to admit that she would have considered him the most handsome gentleman she had ever laid eyes upon. Not that handsome really suited the elegant male features and startling green eyes, she decided. There was an undeniable beauty in the sweep of his brows, the prominent line of his cheekbones, the aquiline nose and the perfectly chiseled lips.
It was a glacial beauty, however, and Raine abruptly shuddered.
Carlos might be a hot-blooded brute, but she sensed between the two men, this icy fallen angel was by far the more dangerous.
Unnerved by the steady, piercing gaze, Raine halted her struggles with her cape and cleared her throat.
âWhat do you intend to do with me?â she demanded, careful to keep her voice low. The only bit of luck she had enjoyed this disastrous night was that her captors believed her to be a young boy. It was a belief she intended to encourage. God