A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2)

Colin retrieved the canvas pouch from the floor. As he teased the drawstring open, he spoke to the ladies in his calmest, most reassuring tone. “It’ll have to be done, I’m afraid. We’ll do as he asks, and then we’ll continue on. Everything will be well.”


Damn it all. Colin knew handing over the valuables was the only safe and responsible choice. Except for a knife buried deep in his boot, he was unarmed and at a distinct disadvantage. Presumably, the robber had associates holding the carriage driver and footmen at gunpoint, too. Any heroics Colin might attempt would doubtless end in someone’s injury or death. With four ladies in the carriage, he couldn’t take the risk. Still, he hated giving in. He cursed his own thoughtlessness. Why hadn’t he brought a pistol on this journey?

The answer was simple. Because he hadn’t expected to actually leave on this journey. He’d tried to cancel the whole thing, that first morning by the road.

He should have tried harder.

With shaking fingers, the trio of ladies removed their lockets, bracelets, rings, and hair combs. He shook the few coins he carried from his own pocket.

“What about her?” The robber thrust his pistol in Minerva’s direction.

“She’s not wearing jewels,” Colin said, angling himself between the pistol and her body.

“What about that reticule?”

Colin held out the canvas bag. “The reticule, Min.”

“But . . .” Her dark eyes were wild with apprehension. “But it has all my—”

All her money. All their money. Yes, Colin knew. And from the look in her eyes, he knew she would likely do something very stupid to save it, if he didn’t take command of this scene.

“Give it here,” he said firmly. “Now.”

Her face blanched to the color of parchment as she unlooped the reticule from her wrist and dropped it in the canvas bag.

“There.” Colin pushed the heavy bag at the highwayman. “Take it and begone. Before I change my mind and crush your miserable, reeking face with my boot.”

“Not so fast.” The robber flashed his pistol in the direction of Colin’s signet ring. “Your ring.”

“Won’t come off.” Colin demonstrated, tugging at the gold band. “If you want it, you’ll have to take the finger.”

The ladies gasped at this suggestion, drawing the highwayman’s notice. From beneath his wide-brimmed hat, sharp eyes scanned the compartment.

His pistol pointed in Francine’s direction. “What’s in the trunk?”

“Nothing,” Minerva jumped to answer. “Nothing at all.”

Bollocks. Wrong answer, pet. That trunk’s contents were of no value to anyone, save Minerva herself. And a few dusty scientists, perhaps. But with her hasty denial, she’d just given the impression that the trunk was filled with gold doubloons. Now the robber would not rest without taking it, and Minerva would not surrender.

He leaned toward her. “Min, it’s not worth your life.”

“It is my life. Without it, I’ve done this all for nothing.”

“Give me that,” the highwayman ordered, holding the pistol steady with one hand and reaching for the trunk’s handle with the other.

“No,” Minerva cried, holding it back. “Please.”

Colin’s heart careened in his chest. Good Lord, the girl would get herself killed.

“Leave the trunk,” Colin said. He turned to the highwayman. “Leave the trunk, and you can have me.”

The robber’s lip curled. “You’re not my sort. But perhaps I’ll take the trunk and the girl. I like ‘em spirited.”

It took everything Colin had not to slam his fist into the man’s throat, that instant. Pistol or no pistol, he could pulverize the blackguard. He felt sure of it.

But there were others, he reminded himself. Outside the coach. An untold number of men, most certainly armed. He couldn’t risk them firing on the ladies.

Colin steeled his jaw. “What’s the girl worth to you? A few minutes’ fun? I’m worth a fortune in ransom.” He flashed his signet ring and brought out his most aristocratic accent. “Thousands. Let the ladies pass unmolested, and I’ll come with you. No struggle.”

He watched greed and suspicion wrestling in the robber’s eyes. The man wanted to believe Colin, but he wasn’t sure he could.

And then, from the opposite seat, Miss Cordelia Gateshead gave Colin the best, most timely gift he could ever hope to receive.

The girl clasped her hands together and sighed, “Oh, your royal highness. You mustn’t.”

Well. That sealed the bargain nicely.

As Colin made ready to leave the carriage, he pinned Minerva with a stern glare. “Listen to me,” he whispered fast and fierce. “You go to the next town. You find a safe inn. You send word to my cousin, and then you bloody well stay there until he arrives. Do you hear?”

Her eyes shimmered with fear. “But, Colin—”

“No arguments, damn it. Just do as I say. I need to know you’re safe.”

She nodded. Her bottom lip trembled, and he couldn’t resist soothing it with a brief, if rather unbrotherly, parting kiss.