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narrowed gaze moved to discover the vague outline of a horse and rider standing in the center of the road before them. “Damn.”
    Pulling in his head, Philippe reached into his pocket to touch the dueling pistol he always carried.
    Easily sensing Philippe’s sudden tension, Carlos straightened, a dangerous fire burning in his dark eyes. “Trouble?”
    â€œIt seems we are about to be introduced to the local bandit.”
    Far from worried by the news, Carlos slowly smiled. “Entertainment. Good.”
    Philippe chuckled at his bloodthirsty friend. “Hold, Carlos. I do not wish him dead. At least not yet.”
    â€œWhy ever not?”
    â€œIf anyone is to have noticed the coming and goings on this road it will be the resident highwayman. I wish to question this scoundrel before you put a bullet through his heart.”
    With a sigh Carlos reached down to flip open the trap door that Philippe had installed in the floor of the carriage, a clever addition that had saved their lives on more than one occasion.
    Philippe waited until Carlos had slipped from the carriage, knowing that his cunning friend was plotting to circle around the highwayman and take him from behind. It would be Philippe’s task to keep the scoundrel distracted until Carlos was in position.
    Keeping the pistol in his pocket, with his finger on the trigger, Philippe waited until the carriage stopped, then stepped out onto the road and walked toward the head of the horses.
    â€œStand and deliver.” The highwayman was gruffly commanding as he waved a small pistol toward the offended groom.
    Swann gave a snort of disgust. The groom possessed a rabid dislike for thieves and cutthroats and was always happy to shed the blood of any who crossed his path.
    â€œGet out of my way, you pathetic worm, or I’ll rip out your heart and…”
    â€œThat will be enough, Swann,” Philippe drawled as he stepped toward the middle of the road.
    â€œBloody hell, I am well able to handle a half-grown rapscallion without your assistance.”
    â€œI haven’t the least doubt in the world, but it does not seem entirely fair that you should have all the fun.” Philippe kept his gaze upon the highwayman, who had shifted the pistol in his direction. Seated upon a dappled gray, the bandit sported a brilliant crimson hat and flowing cape, and he had possessed the sense to wrap a muffler around his lower face. Still, Philippe sensed that beneath the gaudy costume he was a small, nervous sort of man. A cold smile touched his lips. “There is nothing like a bit of target practice to relieve the tedium of a journey.”
    â€œAye, but now you have ruined the gloss on your boots and I shall be the unfortunate soul who will have to spend endless hours polishing them,” Swann groused.
    â€œWe all have our crosses to bear.”
    â€œSome of our crosses are greater than others,” the groom muttered.
    â€œThat is enough,” the highwayman snapped, waving the gun in a dangerous fashion. “Put your hands in the air before I lodge a bullet in your heart.”
    â€œGood God.” Philippe gave a sudden laugh at the high-pitched voice. “I believe it is no more than a babe, Swann.”
    â€œYoung enough to still be sucking his mother’s teat. A fine welcome to England, eh?” Swann readily joined in Philippe’s amusement. “Being robbed by a brat still wet behind the ears.”
    The villain sucked in an outraged breath. “I am old enough to pull the trigger, sir.”
    Overhead the clouds parted to reveal a slash of moonlight that bathed the frozen landscape in a silver mist. The chilled air stirred the crimson cape, making it appear like a river of blood swirling around the slender form.
    Philippe’s smile never wavered as he moved forward with a slow, deliberate step. A part of him was aware that Carlos was creeping through the shadows, and that Swann was behind him with