The bandit went rigid, his hand tightening reflexively on her nape. “Why this house in particular?”

Daphne paled, but she didn’t flinch. “I visited there once, as a child. I’ve never forgotten.” She swallowed, hard. “It would mean a great deal to me. Please, sir, it’s all I ask.”

“You ask very little.” Another pause. “What would your father say if he knew you were aiding me—to rob your own home, no less?”

Daphne didn’t hesitate. “He would beat me senseless.”

The bandit’s hand relaxed, shifting to idly stroke her cheek. “You are extraordinary, my lady. Truly extraordinary. I only wish—” He broke off, lowering his arm to his side. “Go back to bed, Daphne. Go back to bed and pretend none of this happened.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

He started. “Pardon me?”

“Sir, I assume you’ve brought some jewel from your last robbery and that your intention is to leave it in your customary tin cup upon my father’s pillow. Is that right?”

Beneath his mask, the bandit smiled. “Quite right.”

“Well, didn’t you hear what I told you? My father is a very light sleeper. He will surely awaken. And then—” she shuddered, a spasm of pain crossing her face. “Suffice it to say that your mission would fail and you would fall victim to his rather formidable temper.”

“I appreciate your concern. But, at the risk of appearing immodest, I’m excellent at my craft. Rest easy, your father will not be awakened.”

“You’re wrong, sir.” Daphne gripped his coat sleeves. “But don’t let that deter you. Give me the jewel and the tin cup. I shall place them on my father’s pillow for you.”

“And if he awakens?”

“I have a far better chance of explaining away my presence in Father’s bedchamber than do you.”

“But if he is as volatile as you say, don’t you risk inciting his anger?”

Her smile was resigned. “I’m accustomed to bearing the brunt of my fathers hostility. Moreover, I am but one person. Your cause protects many. ’Tis worth the gamble.”

Tenderness constricted the bandit’s chest. “And are you so proficient a gambler, my lady?”

A flicker of something flashed in her eyes. “So I’m told, sir. I’m also quite a bit smaller than you and extremely light on my feet. So, indeed, the odds are with me.”

“Very well.” He found himself extracting the small tin cup and the ruby from his sack and handing them to her—yet another unprecedented action. “Here.”

Daphne glanced down and grinned. “The stone is from that monstrosity of a necklace belonging to Lady Druige.”

“It was garish, wasn’t it?” the bandit agreed.

A current of understanding passed between them. “Go, sir,” Daphne instructed softly. “I’ll finish your task. Only please, give the funds to that workhouse in Leicester, if at all possible.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you.” Daphne’s voice shook. “Meeting you was an honor, sir.” She turned and hastened to her bedchamber door. “Oh.” Pausing, she looked back over her shoulder. “I have a message for you. The children in the village school asked that, should you and I ever meet, I make certain you know you’re their hero. Which, given the vast potential of their loving hearts, is a most glowing tribute.”

“Now it is I who am honored.”

“Good night, sir. God bless you.”

“Good night, Daphne.”

He watched her go, assailed by a wealth of feeling as unexpected as his desire. Slipping out after her, he waited only until he’d heard her enter her father’s chamber before he followed, determined, with or without Daphne’s knowledge or consent, to ensure that she remained safe, undiscovered and unharmed.

She was impressively light on her feet, he noted, flattening himself against the wall outside Tragmore’s room and watching in admiration as she tiptoed across to her father’s bed. And her timing was impeccable. She executed the placement of the cup precisely as he would have, waiting until the marquis was drawing an inward breath, when he would be least apt to notice her whisper of a motion. Then, she acted, her touch as light as her step.

The bandit grinned. He’d learned at a dismally early age that in order to succeed in life one needed to possess three traits: cunning, skill, and instinct. Armed with all three, one’s future was ensured, one’s possibilities limitless.

Tags: Andrea Kane Thornton Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net