outrage. Honest, my arse!
Apparently, the wench had already scheduled a rendezvous for the night. She had chosen someone else instead of him. Why couldn’t she have simply said so instead of letting him make a fool of himself? He shook his head, pricked by the rejection. Lucien was always warning him he was easily duped by women. As usual, his sly twin brother proved right. Pleasure her well, my friend, he thought in disgust, but as he started to turn away, he saw a second male figure materialize out of the cluster of trees. And a third.
Damien stopped, frowned, stared. There was something sinister about the furtive way the three men crept out of the darkness. Willing his gaze to penetrate the dark copse to see if there were any more lurking in there, he could just make out the dim outline of horses hidden among the brambles. The hackles on his nape rose in instinctual warning. Hadn’t one of the subalterns at the barracks mentioned something about the criminal population that had taken up residence just outside of town?
Meanwhile, Miss White kept walking fearlessly toward them as though she knew who they were. Then Damien realized she could not yet see them because of the gentle ridge that rose up in front of her. His eyes flared with cold dread as the three men lined up across the road, as though preparing to ambush her. They’re not her friends. Savage energy began pounding in his temples, in time with the thunderous pumping of his heart.
They’re bloody goddamned highwaymen.
Already he was in motion, dropping his greatcoat, breaking into a run. He shook off the chains of the past few months’ civility with a mental roar of release. He had no weapon, but this posed little worry to a man who knew nine ways to kill with his bare hands. With each accelerating stride, his focus grew crisper, more sublimely clear, his mind already assessing the problem with mathematical precision, showing him his angle of attack.
As the girl neared the crest of the ridge, he poured on a fresh burst of speed, desperate to intercept her before the gang of criminals did. He felt his awareness heighten toward his battle state, then saw her freeze in her tracks at the apex of the rise. Finally she saw the men lined up across the road before her. Damien was too far away to make out what they said to her as they started toward her, but she whirled around and began running back toward the theater.
Come on, come on, he urged himself, pressing himself to sprint full-speed, but he was not fast enough to stop them from catching up to her. A fourth man on horseback came galloping out of the woods while the three on foot captured her within a few strides, grabbing her by her long hair. They tackled her to the ground in a plume of snow. She let out a scream that was quickly cut off when one clapped his hand over her mouth. Damien held back a roar of rage, for surprise was his only advantage. Murder in his eyes, he lost sight of her momentarily as he hurtled toward the rise.
When he came up over the ridge, he saw one man steadying the horse’s reins, while the other two held the girl by her armpits and her ankles, struggling to hand her up to the man on the horse. She fought them fiercely, kicking and clawing—until the one who had hold of her upper body pulled out a knife and threatened her with it.
Damien felt something dark inside of him open its red, demon eyes, roused to wakefulness at the silver glint of the knife, the beast in him scenting blood. Jumbled memories flashed through his mind: nights on piquet, bayonet charges. His awareness was distant, yet crystal clear, controlled to the point of eerie tranquility; everything seemed to move slowly. The greasy brigand sheathed his weapon again in order to lift the uncooperative girl; then Damien was upon them.
Ignoring their Cockney shouts, he elbowed the man with the knife in the face, snapping his head back, seizing Miss White around the waist to catch her from falling as the man
Apparently, the wench had already scheduled a rendezvous for the night. She had chosen someone else instead of him. Why couldn’t she have simply said so instead of letting him make a fool of himself? He shook his head, pricked by the rejection. Lucien was always warning him he was easily duped by women. As usual, his sly twin brother proved right. Pleasure her well, my friend, he thought in disgust, but as he started to turn away, he saw a second male figure materialize out of the cluster of trees. And a third.
Damien stopped, frowned, stared. There was something sinister about the furtive way the three men crept out of the darkness. Willing his gaze to penetrate the dark copse to see if there were any more lurking in there, he could just make out the dim outline of horses hidden among the brambles. The hackles on his nape rose in instinctual warning. Hadn’t one of the subalterns at the barracks mentioned something about the criminal population that had taken up residence just outside of town?
Meanwhile, Miss White kept walking fearlessly toward them as though she knew who they were. Then Damien realized she could not yet see them because of the gentle ridge that rose up in front of her. His eyes flared with cold dread as the three men lined up across the road, as though preparing to ambush her. They’re not her friends. Savage energy began pounding in his temples, in time with the thunderous pumping of his heart.
They’re bloody goddamned highwaymen.
Already he was in motion, dropping his greatcoat, breaking into a run. He shook off the chains of the past few months’ civility with a mental roar of release. He had no weapon, but this posed little worry to a man who knew nine ways to kill with his bare hands. With each accelerating stride, his focus grew crisper, more sublimely clear, his mind already assessing the problem with mathematical precision, showing him his angle of attack.
As the girl neared the crest of the ridge, he poured on a fresh burst of speed, desperate to intercept her before the gang of criminals did. He felt his awareness heighten toward his battle state, then saw her freeze in her tracks at the apex of the rise. Finally she saw the men lined up across the road before her. Damien was too far away to make out what they said to her as they started toward her, but she whirled around and began running back toward the theater.
Come on, come on, he urged himself, pressing himself to sprint full-speed, but he was not fast enough to stop them from catching up to her. A fourth man on horseback came galloping out of the woods while the three on foot captured her within a few strides, grabbing her by her long hair. They tackled her to the ground in a plume of snow. She let out a scream that was quickly cut off when one clapped his hand over her mouth. Damien held back a roar of rage, for surprise was his only advantage. Murder in his eyes, he lost sight of her momentarily as he hurtled toward the rise.
When he came up over the ridge, he saw one man steadying the horse’s reins, while the other two held the girl by her armpits and her ankles, struggling to hand her up to the man on the horse. She fought them fiercely, kicking and clawing—until the one who had hold of her upper body pulled out a knife and threatened her with it.
Damien felt something dark inside of him open its red, demon eyes, roused to wakefulness at the silver glint of the knife, the beast in him scenting blood. Jumbled memories flashed through his mind: nights on piquet, bayonet charges. His awareness was distant, yet crystal clear, controlled to the point of eerie tranquility; everything seemed to move slowly. The greasy brigand sheathed his weapon again in order to lift the uncooperative girl; then Damien was upon them.
Ignoring their Cockney shouts, he elbowed the man with the knife in the face, snapping his head back, seizing Miss White around the waist to catch her from falling as the man
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