"Indeed? Do you suppose you could teach me?" She smiled up at him again before dropping her blue-green gaze. "I suppose I shouldn't presume to monopolize your time. I know that you must attend to your business rather than my pleasure."
Her pleasure. Nicolas shut his eyes on a sudden image of Mariah lost in the throes of ecstasy.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Needham?" she asked.
"No, my lady," he replied. Unable to resist any longer, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. "I would take great delight in making my business your pleasure."
CHAPTER TWO
"Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense,
But good men starve for want of impudence." - John Dryden
MARIAH'S EYES JOLTED OPEN to discover her head resting against the broad, solid surface of Mr. Needham's shoulder. "I-I beg your pardon," she stammered. "I must have dozed off." Noting the carriage had ceased its movement, she asked, "Have we arrived?"
"No," Mr. Needham replied. "The road is obstructed by a fallen tree. I was loath to wake you, but 'twould be best if I alight to assist the coachman in moving it."
"Is it a very large tree?" she asked.
"I don't believe so, but it still must be moved. This is a heavily forested stretch of road, and there is no way around it."
Lady Russell sat up with a yawn. Eyeing them with blinking eyes, she asked, "Why have we stopped, Needham?"
"A tree has fallen across the road. I must go and have a look."
"Perhaps I shall go with you," Mariah said. "I am unaccustomed to sitting so long. It would be good to stretch my legs."
Mr. Needham inclined his head to Lady Russell. "Would you also care to alight?"
"I think not, Needham. One fallen tree looks much like another."
"As you will, my lady."
"A moment, if you please, Needham." Lady Russell reached beneath the seat and slid open a drawer, revealing a pair of pistols.
"You have a hidden compartment?" Mariah exclaimed.
"One can never be too careful, my dear. I have them cleaned and loaded prior to every journey. Marcus insists that I carry them in case of trouble." Lady Russell offered one of the weapons, muzzle downward, to Mr. Needham. "Have a care, Needham."
"I believe the tree is already quite dead," he quipped, "but thank you for the warning, madam." He tucked the pistol into the waistband of his breeches.
Mr. Needham opened the door and preceded Mariah out of the coach with a leap. Mariah hesitated upon noting the coachman had not let down the stairs.
"Would you like me to assist you, my lady?"
"If you please, Mr. Needham." She sucked in a breath as he settled his large hands on her waist. Their gazes met and held as he lifted her effortlessly to the ground. "Thank you, Mr. Needham," she said, feeling quite breathless.
"Nicolas, please," he murmured softly, his hands still on her waist. She darted a nervous glance toward the open coach door. They were in plain view of Lady Russell. He must have realized it too. He dropped his hands abruptly from her sides.
"Pray stay close by, my lady, whilst I go and assess the situation."
She breathed a sigh of relief when he turned his back. In truth, she was in great need to relieve herself but never would have said so in front of him. Heading in the opposite direction behind the coach, she located a thicket of shrubbery, where she quickly took care of her needs. After settling her skirts, she headed toward the front of the vehicle and froze at the sight of the coachman lying insensible on the ground. Her gaze darted upward to find two large masked men with pistols. One was mounted, and the other stood facing Nicolas with his weapon cocked. Thankfully, neither of the brigands had taken notice of her. She crouched along the side of the coach, close enough to hear but hopefully not to be discovered. Her mind raced. What to do?
"Keep yer hands where I can see 'em, guv. Make a move," the brigand bearing the pistol threatened Nicolas, "and I'll blow a hole in your gut the size 'o Bedfordshire."
"Is that where we are?" Nicolas asked mildly, as if inquiring about the weather. "I could have sworn we were still in Hertfordshire. But then again, you aren't really from here, are you? I detect a distinct hint of Newcastle. No, maybe not Newcastle," Nicolas amended. "But you are definitely from the north. I'm certain of it. West Riding perhaps?"
"Shut yer bloody yap!" the mounted man bellowed.
"I certainly commend your audacity," Nicolas continued unabashed. "A man must have bollocks of brass to rob a coach in full light of day when he can be so easily identified."
"What d'ye mean?" said the first thief. "Ye ain't seen our faces."
"I don't have to see your faces," Nicolas said. "Both your accent and his horse are easily identifiable." Nicolas inclined his head to the mounted man's horse. "I can't imagine there are many walleyed piebalds in Bedfordshire."
"Dead men tell no tales," said the first brigand.
"Ah! You quote Dryden? How intriguing. I am robbed by a highwayman of rare breeding." Nicolas arched a brow. Mariah wondered what he was about to taunt them so. Did he not realize the danger he courted? "Do you really intend to add murder to your crimes?" he asked.