His snug black breeches were wool, not velvet, and his shirt was white, not black. He wasn’t here for business, then.
“I’ve come to save my props from the rain. Will you help me, seeing as you’re here?”
Help him? She ought to be bolting for Pandora at this very moment. “Of course.”
Had she said that? She knew she shouldn’t have. He ran up the hill and snatched up the three props, then turned and strode back to the rest of them. Windblown, his golden hair bounced in time with his steps as she followed.
She concentrated on his broad back, watching the play of muscles beneath his thin shirt as he flipped over the canvas and piled the hats on top, bundling them up and tying the four corners in a neat knot to make a parcel. He hefted it, testing its weight, then turned to her. “You can carry this, aye? Before you, on your horse?”
He didn’t sound angry at her, more like he was simply resolved to complete his task in the most efficient manner possible. Kendra was somewhat relieved, but she moved in a haze of unreality.
She managed to find her voice, however. “If you’ll hand it up to me, yes, I’m sure I can carry it. Where are we taking it?”
“A cottage over the next hill, not too far.” He gathered the pipes under one arm and lifted the bundle by its knot. “Let’s be off, before it starts raining in earnest.”
His horse was tied by hers—amber, of course, his glossy coat a tawny tan color. Pandora’s hide was a deep chestnut, and Kendra thought they made a handsome pair.
It was difficult to see over the bundle in front of her, but it was a short ride.
The cottage was unlocked, and the highwayman made short work of tethering their horses before depositing the pipes inside and returning for the bundle. After handing it to him, Kendra slid off Pandora slowly…so slowly…and a second later he was back, and his large, strong hands were spanning her waist as he eased her to the ground.
His fingers lingered on her waist a little longer than necessary, and she felt their warmth through her habit. She looked up at him. He looked older than her, but not as old as most of her suitors. He had a wide mouth, the full lower lip perfectly straight across the center bottom edge. She wanted to touch him, just there.
Her eyes locked on his, and her breath caught in her throat.
A crash of thunder rent the air, and big raindrops began pelting to the earth. He jumped back, motioning her to follow him inside.
She should leave. Now. But it was pouring…
The cottage looked more like a well-appointed hunting lodge, warm and cozy and very masculine. He shut the door behind them and wandered to a leather-upholstered couch, throwing his long form onto it with a surprising grace. “Close, aye? Five more minutes, and my hats would have been ruined. I thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” Kendra said from just inside the door where she still stood in a daze. She couldn’t believe she was in a hunting lodge with this dangerous man. It was incredible—and, all of a sudden, incredibly scary. She couldn’t remember ever having been alone with a man, save her brothers. And she didn’t know the first thing about this one—except that he was an outlaw.
The fear must have shown on her face, because he sat straight and waved at the cushion beside him. “You can sit—I don’t bite. You’ll stay till it stops raining, aye?”
“Aye—I mean, yes.” Outlaw or not, she loved the way he talked, the words slow and melodic. Though her heart was pounding, she screwed up her courage and moved to sit gingerly beside him. “I’m Kendra. Kendra Chase.”
“Trick Caldwell.”
“Trick?” she echoed, startled. She turned to him, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be frightening. “What kind of a name is Trick?”
“Ah, and that’s a story.” He smiled at her, a wide white smile that seemed to light up the cottage and belie the dreary day. Leaning forward, he reached out a hand and placed it on her wrist, just lightly, but a tingle raced up her arm and throughout her, warming her in the strangest way. Something snapped inside her, and the sense of unreality was gone.
She was here, really here, with the amber highwayman—no, Trick, she corrected herself—alone, and he wasn’t scary at all.
Well, not very.
FOUR
“ARE YOU hungry?” Trick asked suddenly.
She shook her head, wondering if he actually had food here. Surely he didn’t own this cottage. Well, maybe he knew where the owner kept stores, and she shouldn’t be surprised he would use them.
He was a thief, after all.
“Thirsty, then? Aye, I’m guessing a spot of wine would do you. You look tense.”
Tense didn’t begin to describe how Kendra felt. She glanced down at his long fingers ringed lightly around her wrist. “A…spot of wine would be nice, if you have it. Thank you.”
Releasing her, he rose with a leonine grace and made straight for one of the cabinets, as though he knew every nook and cranny of the place. Crystal goblets and a matching decanter were hidden behind the doors. He filled two glasses, and she took one, hoping he didn’t see her hand shake.
“I’ll just settle the horses and return, aye?”
“Where…?”
“There’s a small stable in the back.” He set his goblet on the mantel. Taking a heavy cloak that dangled from a peg on the wall, he shrugged into it and was out the door with a whoosh of wind.
She sat on
