“Whot? And leave ye? Are ye daft?” one of the two said and then to Tarrant, “Leave the lad be, flash … no ‘arm done.”
So these three were perhaps family, or very good friends? Brothers perhaps? Tarrant thought as he listened to this exchange.
“Get out of ‘ere … m’blokes, save yerselves … go…”
Instead, they shouted threats at Tarrant, and then one toby tried something else, something close to pleading. In a Yorkshire dialect he said, “I disremember when I’ve made sech a muddle of me rig … ye ain’t the right party—no ye ain’t. So if ye’ll let me young brother go, we’ll be on our way, and treble ye no more.”
Tarrant’s thoughts regarding the punishment of highwaymen was harsh. They were a dangerous lot that often took more than money and jewels…
But as he held the lad pressed up against his body, something disturbed him about this particular high toby. For one thing, the shape of the young toby’s bottom against his thighs felt … bloody hell!
Just a moment now … this wasn’t right, there was hint of perfume about the lad—rose water … and hell and fire, he was getting a damn hard-on.
He twisted the lad around, and both her hood and scarf went askew. Even in the dark and the fog, she was too close for him not to know. He stared into her eyes with complete shock, and for the first time in a long time, he was left totally speechless and totally entertained.
Oh famous, he thought, if I had been drinking heavily, I would have an excuse for this dream. It must be a dream because this can’t be possible and yet, here she is, the Lady Taffeta—playing at highwayman!
She made a frantic attempt to pull free, but he yanked her hard. The next thing he knew, he had her spun around where she landed, wrapped nicely, in his arms. Her cloak parted, displaying the blousy white shirt she wore, and her full firm breasts pressed into his chest as he held her close. His other arm went around her trim waist, and he was uncertain just how to proceed from there. I needed to think, for he was so very stunned. This was absurd … but… Damnation and brimstone! What was he going to do? Here was Lady Taffeta in his arms, which meant the two riding with her were the young Duke of Grantham and his uncle, Lord Nigel.
He remembered her small handgun in the dirt and kicked it farther away and told the two men on horseback jabbering threats at him to stuff it. He was going to allow the lads to save face, but he meant to have a little fun with the lady. She knew that he knew; he had seen it in her eyes.
He needed time, and so he maintained a gun pointed at her, and told the boys, “This lad is dead if either of you make one move.” His tone was ominous, for if this was a prank, they needed a lesson to wake them up to reality.
Tarrant could see one lad was nearly foaming at the mouth with fear, and nearly felt a moment’s pity for the lad whose fear, he could see was for the girl in his grip. The lad said, “Now guv, ye won’t want to be ‘urting the lad … it ain’t ‘is fault, ye know, so let ‘im go. Do, and we’ll be calling it a night, even-steven … what ye think of that?”
He turned Taffy once more and held her rump against his cock, and for one moment, closed his eyes as sensations traveled through him. He managed to set desire aside but continued to hold her tightly as he said on a low note, “Right then, little toby, we shall deal … you and I, because it amuses me to do so.” He looked at the lad he assumed was her brother under the knitted dark scarf and hood. “I tell you what, my friend. I’d be willing to release you two—but not this one. I should like to keep this lad for a bit longer.”
One toby spluttered to the other, “No … no…”
And then he said, “Oi couldn’t do without m’brother… Oi would be beholden to ye sir, if ye would let ‘im go…”
“What could you do for me in return? Naught, I think…” Tarrant meant to teach them all a vital lesson.
He had seen it in her eyes; she knew he knew who she was, and she then surprised him by saying softly, and only for his ears, “Let them go, and me as well … Tarrant. You may take my promise that I shall repay the debt when you call it in.”
He grinned wickedly. “Fair enough,” he said and then, to banish any doubt of her future fate in this regard, he allowed his hand to slide to her breast under her cloak and cupped it, lingered there a moment. In a low husky voice, he said, “I just might hold you to it.”
“Ass,” she hissed quietly, pulling the hood lower over her forehead. He supposed this was for her brother’s sake. She wouldn’t want him to know about the ‘deal’ she had made to save them from this night’s work.
She moved away from him, and he said lightly, “Go then … no harm and fare thee well.”
He then set Taffy’s quiet horse in place for her to mount, moved in close to her, and whispered, “I shall see you in London … make no mistake.”
“I am afraid so,” she answered with a cold note and swung herself into her saddle.
In response to this, Tarrant laughed, greatly amused.
What the driver of Tarrant’s coach thought of all these proceedings, he immediately voiced as he watched the three highwaymen ride off into the darkness, “Ye jest going to let ‘em ride off then…?”
Tarrant only laughed again. “Aye, they aren’t any good at this profession, and I suspect they mean to give it up,” Tarrant said and then laughed again.
“Will ye still be wanting me to take ye to the tavern, m’lord?” the driver asked with a frown.
“No, Dods, I think I have had enough entertainment for one evening. Let’s return to my aunt’s and make an early day of it back to London tomorrow.”
As his coach lumbered forward, the rakehell Hotspur put his head back against the leather squabs and thought of Taffeta. She was a rogue, much like himself, and he fancied she knew the rules well enough, otherwise would she have promised herself away so freely? Why were they marauding people in the night? Why act the part of high toby? Why did her brother and uncle allow it? They were wealthy—nearly as wealthy as he. It troubled him, and the fact that it troubled him was a source of irritation.
~*~